(Tilly Ann)
The whole dining hall suddenly went quiet. Even the servants couldn't help but stare at me blatantly like I had grown two heads.
"Matilda—" Mother started to say, but I interrupted her.
"I said respectfully. You heard me say respectfully." I looked at my father to back me up, and he did.
"She did say respectfully—"
It was short-lived. A look from Aurora Winchester made my dragon king suddenly interested in the best invention of mankind—potatoes.
"Apologize," Mother demanded.
"She really doesn't need to—"
"Shut up, Chase!" Mother and I yelled at him simultaneously.
Father shook his head at Chase and the Alpha, as if to say it was best not to involve themselves in this particular conversation.
After a lot of staring down from my mother, I was forced to render a definitely not heartfelt apology.
"Sorry," I murmured.
"Matilda?" My mother was about ready to throttle me, but Father intervened.
"That's enough now," he said, hiding a smile.
I think he liked that Chase Dubois came to my defense. Every father wishes to see his daughter's betrothed stand up for her.
The moment passed, but the anger and frustration in my chest didn't. I was tired of his games. I was tired of craving him all at the same time.
So I took a page from my father's book and focused on food.
"Kess, pass the bread," I said, staring straight ahead.
The bread basket was right in front of Chase. He picked up a roll and held it out to me.
I ignored his hand. I stood up, walked around the table, and took a roll directly from the basket myself.
All conversation died. Every eye was on us.
Chase slowly lowered the bread he was still holding. A small, rueful smile touched his lips.
"I'm afraid," he announced to the entire stunned table, "I am still in the doghouse with Matilda. And I shouldn't have touched the bread with my bare hand. It's unsanitary."
Talia giggled like a competitive raccoon, seizing the opportunity. "Oh, Prince Chase, don't be silly! I would love some bread, if you're offering…"
A hot, possessive bolt shot through me. I didn't even think. I just heard the sound of my own voice.
"Take the bread from my fiancé," I said, low and clear. "I dare you, Talia Goodworm."
"Tilly!" my mother gasped. Talia's mother looked horrified. But Mulan Dubois, Chase's mother, just watched with a faint, pleased glint in her eye.
Kessington, the traitor, grabbed a roll and offered it to Talia instead. "Here, ignore the stubborn billy goat I call my sister."
I reached over and pinched his side hard. He yelped and shoved me away. A real smile broke through my anger.
"Can we talk?" It was Chase.
"I can't hear you. I'm eating bread."
I pushed my heavy chair back, scraping it loudly on the floor, moving it closer to Kess and farther from Chase.
In one smooth, shockingly strong motion, Chase's hand shot out. He grabbed the leg of my chair and pulled. The chair—with me in it—slid effortlessly across the floor, stopping so close to him our shoulders almost touched.
The act was so sudden, so possessive, and so romantic that my breath caught. It literally caught. I found myself trying to remember how to breathe.
The whole world narrowed to the feel of his arm beside mine. To his face. His eyes. His lips. His everything.
He turned to me. Gently, ignoring everyone, he reached up and brushed a stray piece of hair that had fallen from my braid. His fingers were careful as he tucked it behind my ear. His touch was warm and sent a shiver down my spine. For a second, there was no one else in the room.
"I know you're angry at me," he whispered, his voice for my ears only. His tired eyes were full of sincere, aching regret. "I fucked up, Matilda. I should have protected you better. But I'm trying now, okay. I will do better for you, Tilly."
I looked at him, my heart pounding. For an Alpha heir to admit fault, even in a whisper, was monumental.
"And?" I whispered back, pushing. "You will give me what I want?"
If I was to uproot my life and move to a strange land to be with him, I needed to know he was capable of offering more. Because I wanted exactly what my parents have. I want to be fifty-two and silly. I want to giggle. I want it all. I want him all, the good man in the wheelchair and the whorish rake that practically takes my breath away.
He held my gaze, the struggle plain on his face. "You can have everything I'm capable of offering. Nothing more. Nothing less," he said softly, his thumb brushing my cheek once. "My everything, no one else's, I'm afraid. And we will make do, won't we, Love?"
I should have let it go, but I am Tilly Ann Winchester. I push and I push and I push.
"No."
"No?" He asked. "You do understand that this is more than I have given anyone in my life. Anyone Matilda"
"I'm not anyone. Haven't we established that yet, Chase?" I stared at him for a few minutes, something clawing at my mind. Something about him confusing the hell out of me.
"Do you even like me?" I asked him, sincerely and eagerly waiting for an answer.
"I don't know," he answered, holding my gaze without wavering. "...yet."
That's the weird part. Standing Chase would have flat-out said no and given no explanation.
"Will you break my heart?" I asked.
"No."
Which was strange, because a few hours ago, he'd told me he would, and that he'd break his own too if it made me feel better.
"Are you real?"
He was almost...two people except he looked exactly the same. If his game was to confuse me, Chase Dubois was doing a fantastic job.
"Is any part of you real? Is the wheelchair even real? You're like polar opposites at times."
He didn't say a word except throw a glance at his father.
"It's off" I murmured to him.
"What is off?" I asked him, clearly confused.
"Everything" He answered, his gaze still pinned to his father. "I am done, father"
"Chase!" His mother leaned forward to put another bread on his plate.
I had a feeling they were having a conversation without the rest of us.
I stood up to leave. Enough private conversation aired in public. Enough confusion.
But before I took a step, his hand closed around my wrist. Not hard, but firm. I looked down. His grip was warm, pleading. His eyes were wide, desperate. He was silently asking me to stay, not to make him do this here, in front of everyone.
We stared at each other.
"Let go of my hand. " I told him.
"Baby" His voice trailed off. I was surprised. Everyone was. It broke so many rules of proper society.
"I want to be enough for you" His eyes was on his father once again. "Can't I be enough for you?"
Then it was on me. "Can't you take what I am offering?" he asked.
"Let go."
After a heartbeat that felt like a year, his fingers loosened. He let go.
And I walked away, feeling the heat of his gaze on my back until I turned the corner, more confused and tangled up inside than ever.