KNOX

"You're an idiot," Iris declares from her position curled against Astor's side on the burgundy velvet sofa. Her dark hair spills over his massive shoulder as she gestures dramatically with her wine glass. "A complete and utter fool."

I drag a hand through my hair, still feeling the phantom weight of that emerald ring in my pocket. The sitting room feels too small suddenly, the ornate furniture and rich tapestries closing in around me like a trap. "Thank you for your overwhelming support, sister."

"She's right," Mom says gently from her chair by the fireplace, her emerald silk dress pooling around her feet. The flames cast dancing shadows across her face, highlighting the concern etched in her features. "Knox, darling, you can't just... ambush a woman with a proposal. Especially not after kidnapping her."

Dad remains silent in his leather armchair, nursing his brandy and staring into the fire. His disapproval radiates off him in waves—not about the failed proposal, but about my inability to secure the kingdom's future. The weight of his expectations presses down on my shoulders like a physical burden.

"I explained about the ceremony," I protest, pacing across the Persian rug that probably costs more than most people see in a year. "She understood what was at stake."

"Understanding the politics doesn't mean she's ready for marriage," Mom replies, her voice soft but firm. "These things take time, Knox. Courtship, romance, building trust—"

"We don't have time," I snap, my frustration boiling over. "The solstice is days away. If she doesn't accept—"

"Then maybe you should have thought of that before you decided to treat her like a political chess piece," Iris interrupts, sitting up straighter. Her green eyes flash with anger. "Did you even ask what she likes? What makes her happy? What her dreams are?"

I stop pacing, staring at my sister. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Everything!" She throws her hands up in exasperation. "Knox, you handed her roses without even knowing if she likes flowers. You proposed in some random clearing without considering what might be meaningful to her. You treated the whole thing like a business transaction."

Astor shifts uncomfortably beneath her, his massive frame making the sofa creak. "With respect, Princess," he rumbles, his deep voice cutting through the tension, "Knox is the Crown Prince. She should be honored by his proposal, regardless of... romantic considerations."

Iris whirls to face her mate, her eyes blazing. "Honored? She should be honored to be treated like breeding stock?"

"That's not what I meant—"

"It's exactly what you meant," she fires back. "Just because we're werewolves doesn't mean we've abandoned basic human decency. Women aren't prizes to be claimed, Astor."

"I never said they were," Astor protests, but there's uncertainty creeping into his voice now. "I just think... as his mate, she has certain obligations—"

"Obligations?" Iris's voice rises dangerously. "What about his obligations to her? To treat her with respect? To actually court her instead of demanding submission?"

I watch the argument unfold, feeling like I'm seeing my sister clearly for the first time. When did she become so... fierce? So uncompromising about things I've always taken for granted?

"Maybe you should have brought her favorite flowers," she continues, turning back to me. "Or asked what would make her feel special. Or, I don't know, actually gotten to know her as a person before deciding she should spend her life with you."

The words hit like physical blows. "I was running out of time—"

"You were running out of patience," she corrects sharply. "There's a difference. You wanted the easy solution, the quick fix. But real relationships don't work that way."

"This isn't about a real relationship," I argue, though the words taste bitter on my tongue. "It's about duty. Responsibility. The ceremony—"

"The ceremony, the ceremony!" Iris throws her hands up again. "Is that all you can think about? What about what Aubrey wants? What she needs? What would make her happy to be your partner instead of just your political necessity?"

Dad finally speaks, his voice cutting through the heated exchange like a blade. "Enough." The single word carries enough Alpha authority to silence the room instantly. "Knox, you have forty-eight hours to secure your mate's agreement. I don't care how you do it—romance her, seduce her, convince her of her duty. But get it done."

The ultimatum hangs in the air like a death sentence. Forty-eight hours to undo the damage of tonight, to somehow transform rejection into acceptance, to make a woman who clearly despises me agree to bind her life to mine.

"And if I can't?" I ask, though I already know the answer.

"Then your mother and I will choose another suitable mate for you," he says without a trace of emotion. "The ceremony will proceed as scheduled."

The finality in his voice makes my stomach drop. Another mate. Some noble's daughter who'll smile and curtsy and agree to whatever I ask because she's been raised to see marriage to the Crown Prince as the ultimate prize. The thought should be comforting—an easy solution to an impossible problem.

Instead, it makes me want to punch something.

"You know why that bothers you," Liam growls in my mind. "Because she's not Aubrey. Because no one else will ever be Aubrey."

I push his voice away, not ready to examine what that means. Not when there's so little time left.

"I should go check on her," Mom says suddenly, rising from her chair with fluid grace. "After tonight's... events, she might need someone to talk to."

"No," I say quickly, then catch myself. "I mean... I should be the one to talk to her. To apologize properly."

Iris snorts. "Right. Because your communication skills have been so stellar tonight."

Before I can formulate a cutting response, something shifts inside me. Liam goes completely still, his consciousness pulling inward like a predator sensing danger. The sudden change makes my skin prickle with unease.

"Something's wrong," he says, his mental voice tight with alarm. "Aubrey... something's happening to Aubrey."

I'm moving before the thought fully forms, my body responding to an instinct deeper than logic. The sitting room door slams against the wall as I burst through it, my family's startled voices fading behind me as I race down the corridor.

"Knox!" Iris calls after me, but I'm already taking the stairs three at a time, my heart pounding against my ribs.

"Faster," Liam urges, his panic bleeding into my consciousness. "She's in pain. I can feel it."

The royal wing blurs past as I sprint toward Aubrey's quarters, my boots sliding on the polished marble floors. Servants press themselves against the walls as I barrel past, their shocked faces barely registering in my peripheral vision.

I reach her door and pound on the carved wood with enough force to rattle the hinges. "Aubrey!" My voice echoes down the empty corridor. "Aubrey, answer me!"

Nothing. No response, no sound of movement from within. The silence makes my blood run cold.

"Break it down," Liam snarls. "Now!"

I don't hesitate. My shoulder connects with the door in a crash that sends splinters flying, the lock mechanism giving way under the impact. The door swings open to reveal Aubrey's chambers, moonlight streaming through the windows to illuminate...

My brain struggles to process what I'm seeing. Aubrey lies curled on the floor in her wolf form, her silver fur gleaming in the pale light. Shredded fabric—the remnants of a nightgown—surrounds her like the aftermath of a violent transformation. But what freezes my blood isn't the mess.

It's the way she's trembling. The way her body convulses like she's in agony.

Forced transformation. The realization hits me like a physical blow. Werewolves only shift involuntarily under extreme duress—unbearable pain, overwhelming trauma, or... magical compulsion.

I drop to my knees beside her, my hands hovering over her trembling form. "Aubrey? What happened? Who did this to you?"

Her wolf form shudders, and then the transformation begins in reverse. Silver light ripples across her body as bones crack and reform, fur receding to reveal pale skin. Within seconds, she's human again—and completely naked.

I avert my eyes immediately, shrugging out of my jacket to cover her, but she moves faster than I expect. Her arms loop around my neck, pulling me down until our faces are inches apart.

"Aubrey, what—"

She cuts me off by pressing her lips to mine, the kiss desperate and hungry in a way that makes my entire body respond instantly. Every rational thought flies out of my head as she deepens the kiss, her tongue sliding against mine with an urgency that sets my blood on fire.

"Something's wrong," the rational part of my mind whispers, but it's quickly drowned out by the rush of desire flooding my system. "This isn't like her. This isn't—"

But then she's pulling me closer, her naked body pressing against mine through the thin fabric of my shirt, and thinking becomes impossible. My hands tangle in her dark hair as she kisses me like she's drowning and I'm air itself.

"Knox," she breathes against my lips, her voice rough with need. "Please. I need... I need you."

The words shoot straight to my groin, making me harder than I've ever been in my life. Every fantasy I've had about her, every dream that's left me aching and empty—nothing compares to having her in my arms like this, wanting me with the same desperate intensity I've felt for her.

But even through the haze of desire, something feels off. This morning she could barely stand to be in the same room as me. Tonight she laughed at my proposal. And now...

"Are you sure?" I manage to ask, though it takes every ounce of willpower I possess. "Aubrey, what changed? What—"

She silences me with another kiss, this one even more aggressive than the last. Her hands work at the buttons of my shirt with shaking fingers, and when the fabric parts, she presses open-mouthed kisses to my chest that make me groan.

"Don't think," she whispers against my skin. "Please, Knox. Just... don't think. Just feel."

My control snaps like a overstretched rope. I capture her lips again, deeper this time, more demanding. My hands roam over her bare skin, mapping every curve, every soft swell that I've imagined touching for weeks. She arches into my touch, a soft moan escaping her that makes my blood burn.

"Aubrey," I growl against her throat, my voice rough with desire. "I want you so fucking much."

Her response is to pull me down for another kiss, her legs wrapping around my waist as she presses herself against me. The feeling of her naked body against mine, even through my clothes, is almost enough to make me lose what little sanity I have left.

I want her. God, I want her more than I've ever wanted anything in my life. And finally—finally—she wants me too.