Chapter 53
Kaldrek had faced monsters in tunnels, torn through creatures born of blood and shadow, and stood unshaken against things far worse than anything this ballroom could offer. And yet nothing had prepared him for this.
The music swelled, far too refined to feel natural to him. It filled the room with a rhythm he could not fight, only follow. He stood at the edge of the dance floor, hand raised as Evelyne had instructed, waiting for the dance to begin.
Fuck, this was ridiculous.
Still, he remained. For her.
Evelyne stood before him, her hand poised to meet his, her golden gown catching the candlelight with every subtle movement.
She held herself with steady strength, chin lifted, as though she did not care who watched or what they thought.
He knew better. He knew she felt every gaze, every whisper beneath the music, and still she stood there.
For him. For her family. For the life she was trying to build with him.
So he stepped forward, took her hand, and let her draw him into the dance.
Around them, the other couples slipped into formation, debutantes and polished gentlemen moving as though born to such rituals.
Kaldrek felt the room’s attention turn toward him, curiosity and scrutiny following every step.
He ignored it. The moment Evelyne’s eyes met his, the rest of the room faded.
She looked unreal, like something the world did not deserve to hold.
He followed her lead, finding the rhythm as she guided him through each turn.
He would endure the steps, the stares, the whispers, all of it, if it gave her this moment.
If it gave her a life where she no longer felt torn between him and the people she loved.
That thought steadied him, even as instinct stirred beneath his skin.
He noticed the way men looked at her, the lingering interest that followed her every movement.
How had Evelyne lived twenty-three years without realizing how much she was wanted?
His mouth hardened as possessiveness coiled low in his chest. Every part of him wanted to step forward and make it unmistakably clear that she was not theirs to admire.
Wolves understood such things. Humans, apparently, did not.
But he forced himself to remain still and kept his concentration where it belonged.
On her.
Only her.
But of course, he still took stock of the room, of the others, of Holden. His second stood across from him with Aurelia, posture rigid and movements so controlled they seemed almost unnatural.
Good. He was holding himself together.
Kaldrek returned his focus to Evelyne as the music carried them on.
The steps came easier now, his body finding the rhythm it had resisted moments before.
He learned through her, matching her pace and following the subtle pressure of her hand, until the noise, the watching eyes, and the expectations slipped away.
There was only this.
He moved with her, not perfectly, not with the polished grace of the others, but with certainty. And when she smiled—
Holy hell.
He would do this all night if she asked. He would stand in a hundred rooms like this and endure every glance, every judgment, every whispered word, so long as she kept looking at him like that.
No force in this world could make him let her go.
“You’re doing better than I expected,” Evelyne murmured, a hint of amusement lifting her voice as she guided him through the next turn.
“That sounds like an insult,” he replied dryly.
“It is a compliment,” she said, her lips curving slightly. “You’re not only skilled with a dagger—it seems you’ve found your footing here as well.”
He huffed a quiet breath. “Do not let that spread too far. I have a reputation to maintain.”
Her smile widened, but before she could answer, his gaze flicked briefly across the room.
“Holden looks as though he is being slowly tortured,” Kaldrek muttered.
“You shouldn’t let your eyes wander during the dance, remember?” Evelyne teased, but followed his gaze. “Oh dear,” she whispered. “Aurelia is turning red.”
“She may combust,” Kaldrek said.
Evelyne bit back a laugh, her shoulders shaking. “At least they are trying.”
“That is one word for it.”
“You truly are doing well,” she added softly. “I mean it.”
“For you,” he said. “Only for you.”
His attention shifted toward the edge of the room.
“Your mother is watching.”
“She always is.”
“She looks as though she expects something to go wrong.”
“At least she is smiling.”
Kaldrek raised a brow. “She is likely counting the seconds until the music ends and praying we do not disgrace her before it does.”
Evelyne’s eyes moved across the room. “Heidara looks happy,” she said, her voice lightening. “And Alaric… They suit one another, do they not?”
“Shouldn’t you be looking at me?”
She smiled. “Hush.”
Kaldrek glanced toward Alaric and Heidara as they moved together with surprising ease. “Yes,” he said. “They do.”
Evelyne did not answer. Something in her posture shifted, and Kaldrek felt it before he saw it: the change in her breathing, the tightening of her hand, the sudden chill through the bond.
He looked back at her at once. “What is it?”
Evelyne exhaled, her mind fixed somewhere beyond him. “There is someone here,” she said quietly. “Someone who should not be.”
Kaldrek turned slowly, following her line of sight past clusters of nobles and drifting laughter until he found the far corner. A man stood half in shadow, his thinning auburn hair catching the light, his face faintly familiar.
Then fear and disgust surged through the bond, and Kaldrek needed no explanation. He had felt that same sharp unease before, on the night they had crossed paths with the man outside the Velenshire library. Something about him had been wrong then. Now, he understood why.
The realization snapped something loose inside him.
The music swelled toward its final notes, carrying the dancers through their last steps, but Kaldrek was no longer with them. The instant the song ended, he released Evelyne’s hand and moved.
“Kaldrek,” she started, reaching for him, her fingers catching the edge of his waistcoat.
He did not stop. She tried to pull him back, but it was useless. He was already crossing the ballroom, moving through the crowd with such purpose that people stepped aside without question.
“Kaldrek, wait,” Evelyne called behind him.
Not a chance.
He knew exactly who that man was.
And he knew what he had done to her.
***
Holden
Oh, he was fucked. Completely, utterly fucked—and somehow that almost made it funny.
Not that she wasn’t the most beautiful female he’d ever seen, because she was. The kind of beauty that stole a man’s breath, that made thought impossible. The kind wars were fought over. And somehow… she was tied to him.
Well. Not yet.
But if she kept looking at him like that, smelling like that…
Yeah. He wasn’t entirely sure how much longer he could keep standing there like a man who was not already falling apart for her.
And tonight?
She looked even better, which he hadn’t thought possible. There she was, standing in that dress—
Red.
Of course it was red.
Did she truly need to wear the one color guaranteed to ruin him? The neckline dipped just enough, and the way her hair fell to one side left her neck bare. Every time his gaze drifted there, his thoughts followed somewhere dangerous.
No.
Stop.
Get it together, Holden.
He clenched his jaw and forced his mind elsewhere. Anywhere else. But then she looked at him again, those bright blue eyes catching his, and everything else in the room disappeared.
This was torture. Actual, physical torture.
Even holding her hand—just her hand—was enough to leave him unsteady, his entire body wound tight as if he might snap at any moment.
And the worst part?
She didn’t deserve this.
Didn’t deserve him.
He was rough, impatient, always one step away from doing something reckless. And she…
She was everything else. Soft. Elegant. Intelligent.
He had known it the moment she woke in the tunnels. The instant her eyes met his and something in his chest locked into place, he had known he was in trouble.
Still, he had tried to ignore it. Told himself she was just another pretty female.
Just someone who smelled good. Really fucking good.
Enough to make him dizzy if he let himself think about it too long.
Like lilacs and vanilla and something warm he couldn’t name without sounding like a complete idiot.
And now here they were.
Dancing.
At this ridiculous excuse for entertainment that people insisted on calling fun.
Holden focused on anything that might kill the heat building in his chest—mud, blood, broken bones, Kaldrek’s armpit, anything—but her scent kept cutting through it, stronger with every step.
“Am I truly so dreadful to look at?” Aurelia’s voice drew him back. “You appear as though I’ve just murdered your favorite pet.”
Holden blinked.
He had no idea what she’d been saying before that.
She cleared her throat, louder this time. “I suppose conversation is not your strength.”
He let out a slow breath. “Quite the opposite, actually. Turns out I’m the most irritating member of the pack. Lucky for you, though, you can barely hear anything over this nonsense you call music.”
“Nonsense?” Aurelia’s brows lifted. “This, sir—” She paused, then sighed. “Well, admittedly, this particular piece is not my favorite. But the instruments themselves…”
She smiled.
And Holden nearly lost his footing entirely.
“Never mind,” she added, rolling her eyes. “You wouldn’t understand true beauty.”
He huffed a laugh, spinning her with more confidence than he’d expected he had. “You’re something else, you know that?”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
Her eyes lit slightly as the music picked up, and he caught it—that moment of genuine enjoyment. So he leaned into it, gave her a better turn, steadier this time.
She stepped closer on the return. Too close.
He couldn’t stop himself from lowering his voice near her ear. “I know beauty,” he murmured. “And you are… frustratingly… the most beautiful female I’ve ever seen. So try me, Aurelia.”
She blinked, but didn’t say a word. Color rose instantly to her cheeks, that sharp, unmistakable red that made everything worse. He watched it spread, felt her grip tighten just slightly as his fingers brushed against hers, tracing the edge of her hand without thinking.
And then—
Her scent hit him again, but stronger. And much closer.
His entire body locked in response.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Not now.
“Holden,” she said quietly.
Before he knew it, the music ended. Saved by the gods themselves.
He stepped back immediately, forcing distance between them before he did something they’d both regret. Kaldrek was already moving across the floor, looking like he was about to tear someone apart, which meant Holden was needed.
Perfect.
He gave her a quick bow—far too rushed to be proper—and turned away, grateful for the interruption. Because if that dance had gone on any longer, he wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to stop himself.