Aurora followed last into the grand hall, silver tray balanced in trembling hands. The scent of herbs filled the air, but her stomach churned.
The Alpha princes lounged at the long table. Alpha Mateo smirked. Alpha Cain barely looked up. Zev's silver stare was fixed forward—blank. The Queen sat at the head, still as marble.
Aurora placed her tray beside Zev. Then froze.
She hadn't bowed.
The Queen's eyes flicked toward her but said nothing.
Aurora backed away, heart hammering.
Queen Celeste tasted first—roast, then bread. A pause.
"The kitchen may continue," she said.
Aurora exhaled—barely.
Alpha Mateo chuckled. "I expected worse. My girl has hands."
Monica stiffened behind him.
Zev tore a piece of bread, tasted it, and—nothing. No comment. No glance.
He just ate.
And somehow… that was worse.
When the King stood, silence fell. His gaze swept the sons, then the girls.
"You were brought here to serve," he said coldly. "No glances. No alliances. Betrayal—real or imagined—will be punished."
He stepped forward, voice like steel.
"If I find one of you with a man who is not your Alpha…"
A pause.
"…your body will leave this palace in pieces."
Aurora didn't breathe until the guards escorted them out.
-------
Aurora stepped into the firelit chamber, crimson gown clinging to her frame, breath shallow. Zev stood near the hearth, arms folded, gaze steady. The silk whispered against her legs as she stopped just inside the door.
He didn't smile.
Didn't speak.
Just watched.
"You came back looking like a woman," he said finally.
No warmth. Just a statement.
Her throat tightened. "You told me to change."
Zev stepped forward, slowly.
"No one survives this palace by following orders. They survive by *outperforming* them."
He stopped a breath away, fingers brushing a loose strand from her face. Aurora didn't flinch.
"You're learning," he said, voice quiet. "Now let's see how fast."
She lowered her gaze but didn't move. Not yet.
His hand caught her chin gently—but with enough power to remind her who held control.
"I gave you a command last time. You hesitated. That won't happen again."
Aurora nodded once.
But Zev didn't release her. His thumb lingered, tracing just beneath her lip.
"Touch me," he said softly.
Not cruel. Not cold.
But still dangerous.
Aurora swallowed hard. Her hands rose—slower this time, more deliberate. She placed one hand over his chest, feeling the quiet strength beneath fabric.
Zev didn't speak. His eyes tracked her every move.
She moved her palm upward, along his shoulder, her touch steadier now. Learning. Mimicking what she'd read, what she feared.
"You're trying," he murmured. "But you still look like you're praying I'll vanish."
Zev's eyes stayed pinned to hers. "I told you to touch me. Did you forget so soon?"
Aurora hesitated. "I didn't forget."
"Then act like it."
He stepped closer, the heat from the fire curling between them. His chest rose steadily beneath the dark shirt, fabric taut over sharp bone and coiled strength.
"Not like you're smoothing silk," he said flatly. "Touch me like you understand what I could take from you. Or give."
Aurora swallowed. Her hand rose again—slow, unsure—but this time it didn't stop at his chest. She pressed gently against him, moving upward to his collarbone, then down the slope of his shoulder. There was no seduction in the gesture—only survival.
Zev didn't smile. But he didn't stop her either.
Her fingers trembled slightly.
"You're scared," he murmured, gaze unreadable.
She didn't deny it.
"But you didn't run," he added after a pause.
He stepped back. Not a dismissal—just a shift in assessment.
"Cover yourself."
Aurora blinked. "I'm clothed…"
Zev gestured toward the blanket folded on the chair near the hearth.
"That dress was chosen to make you seen," he said. "Use this to disappear. We're done."
She took the blanket, knees aching as she knelt by the fire.
"You'll sleep here," he said. "Tomorrow, I'll ask again. Let's see if you've learned."
He turned his back.
Aurora wrapped herself tight in the thin blanket, the heat of the chamber no match for the chill laced through her spine.
Then Zev's voice drifted through the room—quiet, almost thoughtful.
"Next time, don't hesitate."
"Next time, don't make me teach the same lesson twice."