The air in the grand chamber was stifling, filled with rose oil, nervous councilmen, and the sharp scent of tense Alphas. You hated these meetings—parading you like a jewel before foreign warriors, expecting you to smile politely while they sized you up like a treaty in silk.

You were no ordinary Omega. Heir to the Southern throne. Scholar. Strategist. And entirely uninterested in playing submissive.

The murmurs halted when the doors opened. A shift in scent hit the air—smoke, leather, steel. It was primal, commanding, threaded with power so thick it curled beneath your skin.

He entered like a storm.

John Price.

Alpha. General. Legend. His reputation preceded him—gruff, tactical, fiercely loyal, and utterly unshakable. He was older than the others presented to you. More dangerous too. His presence drew every gaze, though he didn’t flinch beneath the weight of attention. He wasn’t here to perform. He was here to assess.

You stood, crown of delicate gold glinting in the firelight, your chin high.

He looked at you.

Not your clothes. Not the curve of your neck or the scent of your skin. He looked you dead in the eye—like an equal. A challenge.

Good.

“General Price,” you said smoothly, voice silken but edged like a blade. “You honor us with your presence.”

His mouth twitched in what might have been a smirk. “And you with yours, Your Highness.” His voice was smoke and gravel, rough in a way that raked gently down your spine.

The council urged you both to sit. You obeyed with reluctance. He moved with relaxed power—shoulders broad beneath his coat, gloves pulled off with slow, deliberate precision as he spoke with your father about duty, about the borderlands and defense strategies. His voice never rose, but he spoke like a man who was used to being obeyed.

Still, his eyes kept finding you.

And yours, despite yourself, kept drifting back.

They served tea. You picked up your cup, fingers poised perfectly around the porcelain. When you drank, you felt the press of his gaze again, watching. Studying.

“I was told you were here to discuss potential political unions,” you said suddenly, cutting through the small talk. “Not to admire the décor.”

One of the nobles coughed in surprise. A few bristled.

But Price didn’t blink. “I was told the Southern heir wasn’t interested in unions at all,” he replied. “Just power in finer clothing.”

Your jaw clenched. “Is that what you think of me?”

“No,” he said, leaning back with a hum. “You speak too plainly to be false. I think you’re tired of having your strength softened to make others comfortable.”

Silence.

For the first time in months, you didn’t have a rehearsed answer.

“Then why come?” you asked, quieter now. “You don’t seem like a man interested in being chained to royalty.”

His eyes flicked to your bare neck for the briefest second. “I’m not.”

You arched a brow.

“I came,” he continued slowly, “because every advisor told me you’d be difficult. Stubborn. Unfit for an Alpha like me.”

Your mouth parted.

“And I thought—if even half of that’s true…” He leaned forward, voice low enough only you could hear. “Then you’re the only one worth my time.”

Your heart stuttered once.

The rest of the meeting passed in a blur of stiff protocol and veiled suggestion. But by the end, one fact had burned itself into your bones:

You had never met an Alpha like him. One who didn’t flinch at your fire. Who didn’t try to douse it.

You hated how intriguing it felt.

Later that evening, you found yourself alone in the quiet of the palace garden. Stars blinked overhead, and the soft clink of armor drew your attention. You didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“You shouldn’t be out here without a guard,” he said, stepping beside you.

You didn’t look at him. “I’m not afraid.”

“I know.”

You glanced at him, finally. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Price looked at you, gaze heavier than the armor he wore. “Maybe."