23: Theodore

I watched Emma lift her coffee cup to her lips, the simple movement captivating me with an intensity that would have been alarming had it not been so expected. My fingers tingled where they rested against the polished table, but I felt a warmth in my chest, an expanding heat that I recognized not as guilt but as something equally powerful: possession. Two centuries of waiting, and now she sat across from me, this werewolf woman with careful eyes and guarded smiles, simultaneously the answer to my oldest prayers and my most complex diplomatic challenge.

The dining room hummed with quiet conversation, silver clinking against china as the summit's attendees broke their fast. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, catching on the crystal chandeliers and scattering prismatic light across the room. Emma's dark hair shone with deep mahogany highlights where the sun touched it, and I found myself wondering how it would feel beneath my fingers. Aeson stirred within me at the thought, restless and eager.

‘She's beautiful,’ he purred, a sentiment I couldn't disagree with. ‘Our mate.’

Christian sat to my right, his presence both comforting and slightly irritating. My brother had always possessed an uncanny ability to see through diplomatic facades to the truth beneath, and his subtle smirk told me my preoccupation with Emma hadn't gone unnoticed. Across the table, Elijah and Elena maintained the carefully neutral expressions of practiced diplomats, though their eyes missed nothing.

"These reports from the border territories are concerning," Christian said, deliberately drawing my attention back to the documents spread between our plates. "Particularly the housing situation for displaced families."

I nodded, grateful for the return to matters I could address professionally. "The extent of the damage has been... significantly underreported to me." I kept my voice measured despite the anger that still simmered beneath the surface. My conversation with Emma last night had revealed failures in my administration that could not go unaddressed.

Emma set down her coffee cup, her green eyes sharp with interest. "The Eclipse Moon Pack has been hit hardest," she said. "But they're not the only ones struggling."

"Which is why," I said, seizing the opening, "as the three of you have been so instrumental in helping the displaced families from the earthquake, I would appreciate it greatly if you could join Christian and I after breakfast to go over the situation in more detail."

Emma nodded. "Of course."

"Whatever you need," Elijah added, while Elena offered a single, graceful nod of agreement.

The simple efficiency of their response struck me. No posturing, no political maneuvering—just straightforward willingness to help those in need. It was refreshingly direct compared to the convoluted court politics I navigated daily.

Emma's phone vibrated on the table beside her plate, the screen lighting up with a name that made her sigh. She glanced at her brother with a mix of exasperation and amusement. "It's Liam again."

"Third time this morning?" Elijah asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Fourth." She pushed back her chair, gathering her phone. "I swear he can't make a single decision without confirmation." Despite her words, affection softened her voice. "I'll be right back."

I watched her walk away, the crimson of her blouse a vibrant counterpoint to the pale marble of the dining room walls. She moved with the fluid grace particular to born wolves, her posture straight yet somehow suggesting constant readiness. A warrior's bearing, even in this peaceful setting.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Christian leaned toward me. "Well, brother, you've certainly found yourself an interesting mate."

"Christian," I warned, the single word carrying centuries of sibling communication.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Merely observing. An Alpha female who's serving as gamma to her brother's pack, now mated to the Lycan King? That's not just interesting—it's unprecedented."

"And potentially volatile," Elijah added, his voice low. "There are those in both our worlds who would view this as... problematic."

I met his gaze directly. The werewolf Alpha studied me with the careful assessment of one leader evaluating another. Not hostile, but cautious. Protective of his sister.

"I'm aware," I said simply. "The traditional factions of my court will be... unhappy."

"Unhappy is a diplomatic way of phrasing it," Christian murmured into his coffee.

"But changes are rarely comfortable," I countered. "And this bond—" I paused, searching for words that wouldn't sound like political calculation. "This bond is beyond politics."

Elena's expression softened. "The Moon Goddess has her own purposes," she said, the traditional phrase carrying weight in this context. "Mate bonds aren't formed by accident."

Aeson stirred more insistently within me at the mention of our bond, pushing forward until I felt my control slipping. Warmth spread through me, not unpleasant but overwhelming in its intensity. Emma's scent lingered in the air—wild honey and mountain herbs, intoxicating in its newness. I closed my eyes briefly, centering myself against the flood of sensation.

‘Mine,’ Aeson rumbled, the sentiment both primal and profound. ‘Our mate.’

Christian nudged me beneath the table, his eyes sharp with concern. "Rein it in, Theo," he murmured. "Your eyes are shifting."

I drew a deep breath, forcing Aeson back from the surface. The effort was more difficult than it should have been, the bond still raw and new, my Lycan unusually resistant to restraint. My hand trembled slightly as I reached for my water glass, the crystal cool against my heated skin.

"Forgive me," I said, embarrassed by the lapse in control. Centuries old, and I was behaving like a newly-turned adolescent.

Elijah's expression held no judgment, only understanding. "It's the new bond," he said. "It will settle eventually."

Before I could respond, a spike of foreign emotion lanced through me—hot, sharp anger that wasn't my own. The sensation was so unexpected, so visceral, that I nearly dropped my glass. Aeson roared to life within me, responding to the distress signal with protective fury.

‘Mate,’ he snarled. ‘Something's wrong.’

I stood abruptly, my chair scraping against the marble floor. "I'll be right back," I managed, my voice rougher than intended. "Emma's..." I searched for a tactful way to describe the emotion flooding through the nascent bond. "Well, angry is putting it politely from what Aeson is feeling from Artemis."

Elijah was on his feet instantly, pack instincts overriding diplomatic decorum. "I'll come with you."

We moved toward the dining room doors with deceptive casualness, though I felt anything but calm. The foreign anger continued to pulse through me, mingled now with a dangerous ripple of power that made the hair at my nape stand on end. Not just anger—rage, barely contained.

We pushed through the dining room doors into the grand foyer beyond. Emma stood near a decorative column, her back straight, her posture radiating tension. The phone call had apparently ended, but she was not alone. Minister Stavros loomed over her, his militant bearing at odds with the elegant surroundings. Even from this distance, I could see Emma's left hand clenching and unclenching at her side, a visible rhythm of trying to maintain restraint.

More alarming was the subtle shimmer in the air around her—a distortion like heat rising from summer pavement, but laced with flickers of pale green energy. The manifestation of an Alpha wolf's power, visible only in moments of extreme emotion. She was struggling to keep Artemis contained, the effort evident in the rigid line of her shoulders.

"—military aid is allocated based on strategic necessity, not emotional appeals," Stavros was saying, his tone dripping with condescension. "The Crown's resources must be directed toward developments that benefit the kingdom as a whole."

"Fortifying the Eclipse Moon border would benefit the entire eastern region," Emma countered, her voice dangerously steady. "The territory sustained structural damage that leaves it vulnerable to incursion. They've requested minimal support—two engineers and basic materials for reinforcement."