"You’ve ignored me for weeks!" you snapped, storming into the royal solar, your voice echoing off the stone walls. "Do you even remember we’re married, or was I just part of your treaty negotiations?"

King Lucien turned slowly from the fire, his golden eyes shadowed, unreadable. The flames behind him flickered higher, casting warm light over the deep navy of his embroidered tunic.

"You don’t understand what you're asking," he said, low and sharp.

"No, I don’t! Because you won’t tell me anything. You barely look at me. You avoid me at meals, you leave my letters unanswered, and you vanish every full moon!" You were shaking now—not just from rage, but from the pain of being unwanted. "If you despise me so much, why didn’t you just say so?"

The tension in the air thickened—then snapped.

In one step, he was in front of you.

Too close.

His hand gripped your wrist—not cruelly, but firm enough to steal your breath. His pupils dilated, glowing brighter in the firelight, and his chest rose and fell like he was trying not to breathe you in.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" he ground out, voice low and hoarse.

And then you saw it.

Just for a second—but it was enough.

Flicking up from his tousled hair, two sharp, fur-covered ears twitched with restrained agitation. Not human.

Your lips parted in stunned silence. He noticed. He stiffened.

"...You weren’t supposed to see that."