POV Khalil
I find her in the conservatory at twilight, surrounded by orchids and grief.
Eva sits among the flowers like something wilted herself, shoulders curved inward, head bowed.
Even from the doorway, I can sense the turmoil radiating from her—anxiety sharp as broken glass, guilt heavy as stone, exhaustion bone-deep and desperate.
My wolf responds before I consciously decide to act, pushing calm outward like a gentle tide.
I watch the tension ease from her shoulders. Watch her breathing slow. She doesn't know I'm here yet, doesn't know she's responding to my presence, but something in her relaxes anyway.
That's my gift. Or my curse, depending on the day.
When Eva finally looks up and sees me, she doesn't flee. Doesn't stiffen with wariness like she does around Matteo and Soren.
Instead, something like relief washes across her features—a softening that makes my chest ache.
"Khalil." My name sounds different on her lips. Gentler. "I didn't hear you come in."
"I didn't want to intrude." I remain in the doorway, giving her the choice. "Would you prefer company or solitude?"
She considers for a moment, green eyes searching my face. "Company. Your company, specifically."
I cross the conservatory slowly, settling onto the stone bench beside her. The last light of sunset filters through the glass walls, painting everything in shades of gold and amber. Eva's skin glows warm in its touch.
"Why mine specifically?" I ask quietly.
"Because you make me feel safe."
The admission comes out almost surprised, like she didn't expect to say it.
"Something about you lets me breathe. I don't feel like I'm being evaluated or hunted or..." She trails off, shaking her head. "I'm sorry. That probably doesn't make sense."
"It makes perfect sense." I lean back against the bench, keeping space between us that feels respectful rather than distant. "I have that effect on people. My wolf radiates calm—it's a bloodline trait. Most find it soothing."
"Is that all it is?" Eva turns to face me, something vulnerable in her expression. "Just your wolf's influence?"
"I'd like to think I'm pleasant company regardless."
A small smile tugs at my lips.
"But I've spent my whole life wondering the same thing. Do people genuinely like me, or do they simply respond to what my wolf projects? It's... unsettling, not knowing which connections are real."
Eva's eyes soften with understanding. "That sounds lonely."
"It can be."
I've never admitted this to anyone—not my family, not my pack. But something about Eva makes honesty feel safe.
"Everyone expects Alphas to dominate, to command, to radiate power that makes others submit. My wolf does the opposite. It soothes. It calms. My father spent years trying to train it out of me, convinced I was too soft to lead."
"Were you? Too soft?"
"I used to think so." I watch the sunset paint colors across the glass ceiling. "Now I wonder if softness is just strength that doesn't need to prove itself."
Silence settles between us, comfortable rather than awkward. The conservatory darkens around us as twilight deepens into dusk. Somewhere outside, night birds begin their songs.
"I feel trapped," Eva says suddenly, the words escaping like they've been building pressure for days. "Every choice is made for me. Every path is predetermined. I perform and perform and perform, and no one ever asks what I actually want."
"What do you want?"
The question hangs between us. Eva's laugh is bitter, broken.
"I don't even know anymore. I've spent so long being what everyone expects that I've forgotten who I actually am."
She wraps her arms around herself. "Some days I feel like I'm drowning, and no one can see it. They just keep piling more weight on top."
I don't offer platitudes or solutions. I simply listen, letting her words fill the space without judgment. My wolf continues its gentle work, easing the sharp edges of her distress.
"You're not what I expected," I tell her eventually. "The rumors painted you as broken. Pitiful. But you're neither of those things."
"No?" Her voice cracks. "What am I, then?"
"Brave."
The word comes without hesitation.
"You're suffocating under impossible expectations, carrying weights no one can see, and still you keep going. Still you face each day. That's not weakness, Eva. That's the strongest kind of courage."
Her eyes glisten in the dying light. She moves closer—not dramatically, just a subtle shift that closes the distance between us. Her hand finds mine on the bench, fingers intertwining.
"You see me," she whispers. "Actually see me. Not the princess. Not the political advantage. Just... me."
"I see you," I confirm. "I think I have since the moment we met."
Eva kisses me.
It's soft at first—questioning, uncertain—and I'm surprised by my own response. The gentleness remains, that's always part of who I am, but passion ignites beneath it.
Something possessive stirs in my wolf, something that wants to claim rather than simply soothe.
I cup her face in my hands, deepening the kiss, and Eva melts into me with a sound that goes straight to my core.
"Khalil..." My name is a plea on her lips.
I guide her down among the soft grass and scattered petals, the conservatory floor a bed of growing things.
My mouth traces the curve of her throat while my hands work at the buttons of her dress. Each inch of revealed skin is a revelation—soft, warm, trembling slightly beneath my touch.
"Tell me what you need," I murmur against her collarbone. "Let me give you something real."
"You." Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer. "Just you. Just this."
I worship her with tender intensity—learning the places that make her gasp, the touches that make her arch toward me.
My wolf purrs with satisfaction at each response, but something fiercer builds beneath the gentleness. Something that wants to mark her, keep her, make her mine.
When I finally join with her, Eva cries out softly, and I swallow the sound with my kiss. We move together in the darkness, surrounded by flowers and fading light, and the rhythm builds from tender to desperate.
She wraps around me like she's drowning and I'm solid ground.
The pleasure crashes through us both—her first, then me following moments later, burying myself deep as the release shudders through my body.
Afterward, Eva curls against my chest, her breathing slowly evening out. Petals cling to her dark hair. Her hand rests over my heart like it belongs there.
And I realize, with startling clarity, that I'm falling for her.
Not for the alliance. Not for political advantage. Not because my wolf finds her soothing or my pack needs her bloodline. For her—the broken princess who relaxes in my arms like she's finally found somewhere safe.
I press a kiss to her hair, breathing in her scent, still sweet, still changed in ways I don't quite understand, and hold her closer.
I'm falling for Evangeline Aldridge.
I have no idea how much that feeling will cost me.