Alpha King Elijah was a really tenacious man. But of course, he wouldn’t be king after all if he wasn’t relentless.
Not only were they expected to see him tonight, but he had even thrown a party for them. It would have probably been more glamorous, but Elijah must have kept it low-key out of respect for Alpha Henry’s death.
Knowing she would undoubtedly be the "star" of the occasion, Violet had been wondering what to wear to the party when one of the staff knocked on their door and handed over the dress Alpha King Elijah had ordered made for her.
Of course, it was unsettling that Elijah had arranged a dress for her, as if he had been planning this mont all along. Roman and Griffin practically tore the thing apart shaking it for foul play, but there was nothing. Roman had even gone as far as to put it on first—which was downright hilarious—and Violet had a picture to prove it. If there was magic sewn into it, he would’ve been the first to die.
It was sweet, though. The fact that they’d test it and willingly die first for her hit Violet in all the right places. She felt blessed. Besides, Elijah had probably just ordered the dress, not stitched it with his own hands. Last she checked, the man didn’t have sewing skills. There was nothing to fear.
When Violet slipped it on, she imdiately fell in love. The dress was a deep shade of royal purple, clinging to her figure so perfectly it was unnerving how they had gotten her asurents right. The fabric was smooth and rich, and she didn’t need a god to tell her it had cost a fortune.
The neckline bared her shoulders completely, her collarbones exposed in a way that drew eyes to the rune at her neck. At her waist, two circular cut-outs frad her sides. The left one revealed Roman’s rune as if the dress itself had been crafted just to showcase it.
A narrow cinch bound the fabric at her midsection, shaping her fra into the silhouette of a goddess. She went for minimal jewelry, just a single coiled bangle wrapped around her upper arm. Her makeup was pared down too—a sweep of color on her lips, a shadow to fra her eyes—just enough to sharpen her beauty without being excessive.
"You look divine, Violet," Roman murmured, lowering his mouth to kiss the rune at her neck. Violet sighed, tilting her head to give him more space.
She couldn’t help it. She was like a cat in heat, arching instinctively, and begging for more attention the mont his lips brushed her rune.
"Roman." Griffin’s growl cut in, not just because Roman was seconds away from seducing their mate back into bed when they didn’t have the ti, but because that kiss had hit him straight in the groin.
The mating rune was sensitive. After all, it was a sacred mark. If it had been any other male putting his mouth there, Griffin would have ripped their intestines out without hesitation. Mated pairs were possessive to the point of violence.
But theirs was different and rare. Rules bent around them and Griffin didn’t feel the urge to tear Roman apart, at least, not for that reason.
Still, Griffin scowled darkly. He wasn’t about to walk out of the room with a raging erection thanks to Roman’s antics. For that alone, Roman was going to get a piece of his mind.
Roman broke away with a dark smile, fully aware of what he was doing. Violet missed the heat of him instantly, a frustrating ache in her chest, but this wasn’t the ti for it. She forced herself to breathe. Maybe it was high ti she started learning to rein in that maddening libido of hers.
The three of them finally left the room, and made their way through the halls. Outside, the night air was cool, carrying the faint sll of roses that laced the gardens where the party was already underway.
White lanterns strung between the trees, spilling soft light across the trimd hedges and marble fountains. Tables draped in silk lined the pathways, heavy with wine and steaming dishes, while a string quartet played a romantic piece from beneath a rose arbor.
Everyone wore fine clothes and were clustered in small groups, laughter and conversations rolling quite easily.
But when Violet stepped in, frad by the n at her side, the atmosphere in the garden changed.
Roman flanked her left, and wore tailored black trousers that he paired with a deep charcoal dress shirt, the fabric carrying a sheen that caught the lantern glow. Two buttons were left open at his throat, flashing his tan skin while a slim leather belt sat snug at his waist, with the polished boots completing the look. As expected of Roman, he looked effortlessly sexy.
Griffin was her anchor on the right, looking every inch like a warlord. He wore hunter-green trousers that fitted around his massive fra but tapered neatly at the ankle. His black long-sleeved Henley clung to his chest and shoulders, the neckline half-buttoned to tease his bulk. Over it, he’d thrown on a dark gray vest, emphasizing his broadness without the need for a jacket.
Together they were quite the sight and wolves who had been so loud a mont ago found themselves watching in silence as the three crossed the garden like they owned it.
However, that confidence shattered in seconds. Violet didn’t even know where they ca from, but suddenly a wave of reporters sward them, their microphones thrust forward as blinding flashes lit the night like lightning.
"Look here, Violet Purple!"
"Is that Roman’s rune on your belly?"
"Could you tilt your head, let us catch the one on your neck?"
The questions ca rapid-fire, overlapping, and each flash seared her eyes until Violet felt like a prey caught in a cage. And just like that, it dawned on her the reason Elijah had sent her this dress. The bare skin, and the cut-outs on the dress.
She wasn’t dressed to attend the party. She was dressed to be the spectacle.
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