33: Emma

I stood in the hotel lobby, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from my silk blouse for the third time in as many minutes. The massive crystal chandelier above cast prismatic light across marble floors, a display of wealth as subtle as a howl at midnight. My fingers trembled slightly as I adjusted my mother's silver pendant, its familiar weight against my collarbone the only anchor in this sea of Lycan opulence. Eight o'clock. He would be here soon.

Artemis paced restlessly within me, her anticipation spilling into my human consciousness like water overflowing a dam. ‘Our mate is coming,’ she kept insisting, her excitement a stark contrast to the knot of anxiety tightening in my chest. I forced myself to breathe deeply, drawing in the mingled scents of polished marble, expensive perfumes, and beneath it all, the faintest trace of cedar and stone, honey and lightning.

His scent. Growing stronger.

I turned just as Theo entered the lobby from a side corridor, and the sight of him stole what little composure I'd managed to gather. He'd forgone his formal crown and royal attire for a dark blue button-down that made his amber eyes glow like flames behind glass. The fabric stretched across his shoulders in a way that reminded me of exactly how powerful a Lycan he was, even dressed casually. Yet there was nothing threatening in his approach—just measured grace that somehow made his imposing presence feel like protection rather than danger.

Artemis howled with joy inside me. ‘Look at him. OURS.’

"Emma," he said, his voice carrying that slight accent that made even my name sound like something precious. "You look beautiful."

The compliment warmed my cheeks, much to my annoyance. I was a battle-tested gamma, not some blushing adolescent with her first crush. Yet there was something in his gaze—a genuine appreciation rather than assessment—that disarmed my usual defenses.

"Thank you," I managed, grateful my voice emerged steady. "You look nice too."

His smile deepened, creating creases at the corners of his eyes that spoke of genuine pleasure rather than mere politeness. "Shall we?" he asked, offering his arm with that careful deliberation I was coming to recognize—a gesture of connection that left me free to accept or decline.

I placed my hand lightly on his forearm, the contact sending that now-familiar current of warmth up my arm despite the fabric barrier between our skin. Artemis practically rolled with delight within me, broadcasting images of our wolves running together beneath moonlight.

‘Stop it,’ I chided her silently. ‘This is just dinner.’

Her response was the mental equivalent of a snort. ‘Nothing "just" about dinner with our mate.’

I became acutely aware of the eyes tracking our progress across the lobby—curious Lycans pretending not to stare, werewolves openly gawking at the unprecedented sight of their king escorting a werewolf gamma with such obvious attention. A pair of elegantly dressed Lycan women whispered behind manicured hands, their eyes narrowed with speculation or perhaps disdain. I straightened my shoulders, refusing to be diminished by their judgment.

"Ignore them," Theo murmured, his voice pitched for my ears alone. "They're simply unaccustomed to change."

"Is that what this is?" I asked, gesturing vaguely between us with my free hand. "Change?"

His amber eyes met mine, unexpectedly serious. "I certainly hope so."

Before I could formulate a response, we reached a corridor branching off from the main thoroughfare. Unlike the grand public spaces of the Golden Compass, this hallway was more intimate, the lighting softer, the décor subtle rather than ostentatious. Theo guided me past several closed doors until we reached one with a small, elegantly engraved plaque: "The Forest Room."

He opened the door, revealing a private dining space that made me pause in genuine surprise. Unlike the overwhelming marble and crystal that dominated the hotel's public areas, this room had been designed with clear appreciation for natural beauty. The walls featured hand-painted murals of ancient forests, the trees rendered with such detail I could almost smell pine resin and damp earth. The ceiling held a clever arrangement of lights that mimicked stars peeking through a forest canopy, casting gentle illumination across a table set for two.

"This is..." I searched for words that wouldn't sound naively impressed.

"One of the new rooms," Theo supplied, watching my reaction closely. "Do you like it?"

I nodded, oddly touched by how clearly he'd considered what might make me comfortable. "It's beautiful. Reminds me of the northern forests in my territory."

Something like pleasure flickered across his features. He guided me to the table, then stepped forward to pull out my chair. The gesture was old-fashioned but performed with such natural grace that it didn't feel patronizing. I sat down, suddenly hyperaware of his proximity as he settled my chair, his scent enveloping me briefly before he moved to take his own seat across from me.

A server appeared almost instantly, presenting a bottle of wine for Theo's approval before pouring two glasses of deep ruby liquid that caught the starlight ceiling in its depths. As quickly as they had appeared, they vanished, leaving us in comfortable privacy.

"How is your pack holding up in your absence?" Theo asked, lifting his glass in a subtle toast before taking a sip.

The question—so normal, so considerate—helped ease the lingering tension in my shoulders. This was familiar territory, something I could discuss with confidence.

"They're managing well enough," I said, taking a sip of my own wine. The flavour bloomed across my tongue—rich berries, subtle spices, hints of oak. "Liam, my trainee, is handling most of the security coordination. He's actually quite skilled."

"But?" Theo prompted gently, clearly hearing the unspoken qualification in my tone.

I smiled despite myself. "But he still doesn't trust his own judgment. He's called me at least six times since we arrived at the summit, looking for confirmation he's doing the right things." I traced the rim of my glass with one finger, remembering our earlier conversation. "He's doing everything perfectly—he just needs constant reassurance."

"That's not uncommon in new leaders," Theo observed. "Even ones with natural talent."

"True. He found trace scents of an unknown shifter along our northwestern border earlier today—not wolf, not Lycan, but definitely shifter."

Theo's expression sharpened with interest. "That's unusual. What happened?"

"He took all the right steps—increased patrols, refreshed scent markers, documented the exact location. The only hesitation was whether he had the authority to contact neighbouring packs without Elijah or me present." I shook my head, a fond exasperation colouring my words. "I've told him at least a dozen times that security matters transcend protocol, but he's still learning that part of leadership is having confidence in your decisions."

"He sounds like he has potential," Theo said. "And a good mentor."