Celeste stabbed at the salad on her plate so viciously that the fork screeched against the glass. Each scrape was a protest, each shove of lettuce an accusation. She didn't dare look at him right away, not when she could feel those burning green eyes boring into her from across the table. Finally, she gave in, cutting her gaze sideways.
Sure enough, Thane was watching her with that infuriating calm, as though she were a puzzle he intended to solve at his leisure. Leaning back in his chair, he folded his arms, the very picture of smug patience.
Celeste shoved a wad of lettuce into her mouth, glaring at him as she chewed far louder than was humanly possible. Lettuce didn't crunch dramatically, so she exaggerated it, chomping, gnawing, daring him to say something. When that wasn't enough, she crammed in another mouthful, cheeks puffing, chewing like a cow.
His lips twitched.
Oh, he was amused.
The bastard was entertained.
She stuck out her tongue at him childishly, showing off the half-chewed greens just to spite him.
Thane's chuckle rumbled low in his chest. "Alright. I think I've entertained this attitude long enough. Mind telling me what is going on?"
Celeste snapped her head toward him, eyes blazing. "Oh, entertained my attitude, have you?" Her tone dripped venom.
His fingers tapped once on the linen, then again, before he leaned forward, his palm pressing flat on the table. "Have I done something to upset you?"
Her fork clattered against the plate as she tossed it down. Crossing her arms, she mirrored his earlier pose. "Whatever would give you that idea?"
The patience in his eyes wavered, replaced with something sharper. "Enough, Celeste. I have something important to discuss with you, and you're making it extremely difficult. If you insist on continuing to act like a child—"
"Oh, go on," she purred sweetly, tilting her head. "Finish that thought."
The low thrum of power in his voice made her stomach flutter even as her anger sharpened. She was poking the wolf, and she knew it—but for once she wanted to see him drop that damn mask of control.
"How could you have upset me, Your Grace?" she asked too sweetly. "You've been nothing but condescending these last few weeks. Treating me like I'll shatter if touched too roughly. Sweet, considerate, polite. Keeping your distance, never so much as laying a hand on me." Her words lashed across the table like a whip.
Thane blinked, brows pulling together. "Let me get this straight—you're mad at me for being too nice?"
Celeste huffed. "What am I here for, Thane? You bought me as a whore. Someone to serve in your harem of beautiful women. Yet you never visit it. You never call me to your bed. So what is going on?" Her mouth curled into a smirk she didn't feel. "What's the truth? Are you visiting the local brothel? Or—" she tapped her chin in mock thought, "—have you taken a male lover and the harem is just a cover?"
The sound of his fist slamming against the table cracked like thunder. Plates jumped, silverware rattled. Celeste flinched despite herself, her eyes going wide at the raw fury that bled through his face.
"I am trying to be patient with you," he growled, voice vibrating with restrained power, "but another comment like that and—"
"And what?" she cut him off, pulse racing.
Silence stretched taut between them. She could hear her own heartbeat, feel the rise and fall of her chest, shallow and quick. She might have pushed too far, but wasn't that what she wanted? A crack in his armor, something real instead of the careful politeness he'd shown her?
Thane's nostrils flared as he inhaled, forcing himself to calm. When his gaze met hers again, the green of his eyes was nearly black. "There will be a gathering tomorrow," he said finally, each word heavy. "All the kings from the surrounding regions will be attending. They are coming to see the rare Omega."
The words fell like stones in her stomach. "What?" Her voice broke into a squeak.
"This is what I've been trying to tell you," he admitted, leaning back with a weary sigh. "I didn't want it to come out like this, but with all your ranting…well, now you know."
Her fingers curled into fists on her lap. "So what exactly does that mean for me? Will it be a replay of the auction block?" she whispered.
His jaw clenched. "After all the time we've spent together, do you honestly believe I would ever let that happen to you again?" His voice was raw, dangerous.
Celeste looked away, her chest heaving. Did she believe him? She wanted to. Gods help her, she wanted to. But the image of dozens of foreign kings staring at her like meat made bile rise in her throat. What did they want with her? What was she supposed to do—parade in front of them like livestock? Or worse…serve them?
"I don't know what to think," she admitted hoarsely. "I'm nothing but your concubine. Your property."
Something flickered in his eyes—pain? Anger?—but it vanished almost instantly, shuttered behind that cold emperor's mask. The warmth she had grown accustomed to over their shared dinners vanished, leaving only steel.
"I'll have Jubal see you back to your chambers," he said flatly, pushing to his feet. "My mother will prepare you and the other concubines for what will be expected tomorrow."
And then he was gone, his footsteps echoing down the corridor, leaving her alone at the table.
Celeste pressed a trembling hand to her lips. She had wanted to push him, to get a rise out of him, but now she'd gone and broken something fragile between them. Her heart throbbed painfully. Whatever connection they'd been building over weeks of quiet dinners, it felt like it had been shattered in a single night.
She sat in the silence, staring at the untouched bread, and for the first time since entering the palace, Celeste wondered if she had been wrong.
Had she just pushed away the only person in this place who might have truly been on her side?