The diplomatic gathering was supposed to be uneventful.
Ryan should have known better.
The Grand Pavilion glittered beneath hundreds of enchanted lanterns, their golden light reflecting across crystal chandeliers and polished marble floors. Nobles from every allied territory filled the room, their conversations blending into a pleasant hum of politics and diplomacy.
For the first time in nearly a week, Isabella had left the eastern wing.
And the entire kingdom seemed determined to notice.
Ryan stood near the far end of the pavilion, a glass of untouched wine in his hand.
His wolf was already irritated.
"Why are they staring?"
Ryan followed the direction of several wandering gazes.
Across the room, Isabella stood beside a fountain carved from moonstone.
She wore midnight blue.
Not black.
Not crimson.
Blue.
The color made her eyes look brighter and her skin glow beneath the lantern light.
Ryan immediately regretted attending this gathering.
"You promised."
His wolf sounded offended.
"You said we wouldn't hover."
"We aren't hovering."
"We are standing where we can see her."
"That's different."
"It isn't."
Ryan ignored him.
Mostly because the wolf was right.
Isabella knew exactly where Ryan was.
She hadn't looked at him once.
She didn't need to.
The bond carried awareness.
Not emotions like before.
Just presence.
Steady.
Constant.
Annoyingly reassuring.
She accepted a glass from a passing servant.
Immediately, three nobles approached her.
Perfect.
A smile tugged at her lips.
Perhaps tonight would be entertaining.
"My Queen."
Alpha Corin bowed elegantly.
"You honor us with your presence."
"You flatter me, Alpha."
"It would be difficult not to."
His gaze lingered.
Not disrespectfully.
But long enough.
Across the room, Ryan's jaw tightened.
Isabella felt it.
Not through the bond.
Because she knew him.
And because he was terrible at hiding jealousy.
By the second hour, matters had become ridiculous.
One Alpha complimented her intelligence.
Another praised her leadership.
A third spent ten minutes discussing military alliances while looking entirely too pleased to be standing beside her.
Ryan remained silent.
Barely.
His wolf, however, was conducting a personal campaign of outrage.
"They are circling."
"They are speaking."
"They are admiring."
Ryan took a very long drink.
Across the room, Isabella caught sight of him.
Their eyes met.
Only briefly.
But she saw the warning there.
The possessiveness.
The frustration.
The determination not to interfere.
It nearly made her laugh.
The disaster truly began when Lord Thane kissed her hand.
The gesture was perfectly proper.
Completely respectful.
Entirely diplomatic.
Unfortunately, Ryan witnessed it.
The crystal goblet in his hand shattered.
Silence rippled through the nearby guests.
Ryan stared at the broken glass.
Then at Thane.
Then back at the broken glass.
Several courtiers quietly moved away.
Just in case.
By the time the musicians began playing, the entire room had noticed.
Not Isabella.
Ryan.
Specifically Ryan watching Isabella.
The King's attention tracked her constantly.
Every movement.
Every conversation.
Every laugh.
Every smile.
The realization spread through the pavilion like wildfire.
The Alpha King was obsessed with his Queen.
Not politically.
Not strategically.
Personally.
Dangerously.
Hopelessly.
Everyone could see it.
Everyone except Ryan.
Who was far too busy pretending not to watch her.
Then came the final mistake.
Alpha Veyron.
Again.
The man either possessed extraordinary courage or absolutely no survival instincts.
Perhaps both.
He approached Isabella as the music swelled.
"My Queen."
His bow was graceful.
His smile charming.
His timing unfortunate.
"Would you honor me with a dance?"
Across the room, Ryan froze.
His wolf exploded.
"No."
Ryan remained perfectly still.
The room held its breath.
Everyone remembered the last time Veyron danced with Isabella.
No one wanted a repeat performance.
Including Veyron.
Who looked increasingly nervous.
Isabella considered him.
Then glanced across the room.
Straight at Ryan.
The challenge was obvious.
The entire pavilion saw it.
Ryan saw it.
His wolf definitely saw it.
The silence stretched.
Then—
"No."
The voice came from behind Veyron.
Deep.
Calm.
Dangerous.
Every noble in the room immediately stepped back.
Ryan walked forward.
Slowly.
Purposefully.
Like a king approaching a battlefield.
Veyron wisely retreated.
Immediately.
Without argument.
Without dignity.
Without looking back.
Ryan respected that.
A little.
The room became completely silent.
Ryan stopped before Isabella.
For one long moment, neither spoke.
Then he extended his hand.
Not a command.
Not an order.
An invitation.
The entire kingdom watched.
Isabella stared at him.
At the offered hand.
At the determination in his eyes.
At the possessiveness he was trying—and failing—to hide.
A slow smile curved her lips.
"You interrupted a diplomatic conversation."
"You were about to dance."
"Perhaps."
"You were."
The certainty in his voice made her smile widen.
"You sound very sure of yourself."
Ryan's gaze never left hers.
"I am."
The challenge lingered between them.
Then, finally—
Isabella placed her hand in his.
A collective sigh swept through the pavilion.
Half relief.
Half fascination.
The music softened.
Ryan guided her onto the dance floor.
Not possessively.
Not publicly.
Simply close enough that nobody else could interrupt.
The distinction mattered.
His hand settled against her back.
Her fingers rested against his shoulder.
The familiar position sent an unexpected ache through both of them.
Because they remembered.
Before the arguments.
Before the council.
Before the distance.
When dancing had been easy.
When touching hadn't required courage.
For several moments neither spoke.
The music carried them across the floor.
Slow.
Elegant.
Dangerously intimate.
Then Isabella finally broke.
"You spent the entire evening pretending not to watch me."
Ryan lowered his head slightly.
Close enough that only she could hear him.
The warmth of his voice brushed against her ear.
"I watched every second."
Her breath caught.
Ryan's gaze remained fixed on hers.
Steady.
Honest.
Possessive.
And entirely unashamed.
For the first time that evening, Isabella felt her heart stumble.
Because she knew he wasn't talking about tonight.
He had been watching.
Waiting.
Choosing her.
Every day.
Even when she refused to choose him back.
And for the first time in weeks—
That thought didn't hurt.
It felt like hope.