Ariana's eyes widened as Zavren's gaze locked onto hers. Her head spun with a million questions.
How was this even possible?
No wonder she had felt it that night—that eerie sensation, like she was walking into the devil's den. She had sensed it, known deep down that he wasn't an ordinary man. His presence alone had screamed danger, yet she'd brushed it off, especially since he had stayed at a modest local hotel that night.
But now… as he stood before her, his gloved hands gently holding hers, his grey-crimson eyes locked onto her like a predator, the world around them seemed to fall away.
The crowd stilled as though time had paused for their moment alone.
Then, his deep, smooth voice echoed—loud enough to break the silence.
"May I have this dance?"
Ariana's mouth opened, then closed, shock written all over her face. Slowly, she nodded, her cheeks flushing.
How could she say no?
Rejecting him now would only raise suspicions—and make things far worse. She was already in a mess far bigger than she could have ever imagined.
Ava, still as a statue, simply watched. Her body refused to move as Alpha Zavren led Ariana to the center. Her legs trembled, her wide shocked eyes fixed on them.
It was like her mind had gone completely blank.
Numb.
Ariana's heart pounded against her chest like a drum. His presence alone was overwhelming.
When the soft melody began, Zavren moved smoothly, placing one hand on her waist while his other held hers. She hesitantly rested her free hand on his shoulder.
This was tradition—one of significance.
The Alpha would always dance with someone of his choosing before the official mate ceremony began.
Many in the crowd were already wondering.
Had he caught her scent?
Had fate intervened?
Curiosity buzzed in the air, yet no one dared speak aloud.
The hall remained silent as the Alpha King and Ariana danced.
"Snowflake… I have missed you," Zavren whispered, the icy glint in his eyes never wavering, even as a faint, chilling smile curled on his lips.
Ariana's breath caught as he gently spun her. Everything was happening so fast—yet somehow, agonizingly slow.
He was the Alpha King.
The man she had slept with.
The one she was now pregnant for.
That meant he knew about the broken painting…
So then why hadn't he said anything back in the hallway?
Why had he acted like he didn't remember her?
Now, she was more terrified—because of how unpredictable he was.
And yet here she was—moving with him in perfect sync. The only sound echoing in her ears was the soft melody of the music and the thunderous tension between his piercing gaze and her racing heart.
Those eyes…
The same ones she had once dreamt about.
The same ones she would never forget.
"You're a very good dancer," Zavren murmured.
"Let me guess… you learned it before the day of your wedding."
The moment those words left his lips, Ariana paused.
Her body stiffened, unmoving for a second too long before she forced herself to continue. She stumbled, missing a step, but Zavren—almost like he had expected it—effortlessly caught her, guiding her movement so smoothly that it looked more like part of the dance than a misstep.
But her reaction had already told him everything.
H-How did he…?
Who told him?
Her thoughts spiraled. That day—the day before her wedding to Fredrick—her father had forced her to stay up all night practicing the wedding dance. She'd been exhausted, broken, yet desperate to be perfect.
But how did Zavren know that?
And worse… how did he know about her wedding with Fredrick?
"I could barely recognize you," he said, voice dipping with a quiet, taunting edge.
"You looked even more different than you did that lovely night…."
He paused, his eyes scanning her face, soaking in every flustered detail.
Ariana's cheeks flamed. She looked up at him, wide-eyed, stunned. Zavren let out a low chuckle, the deep rumble vibrating through her where his hand rested on her back.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he asked, his eyes locking onto hers with deliberate focus.
"Are you no longer interested in your king?" he added, his gaze studying her golden eyes—those same eyes that had once held determination and gravity that night.
His words sent a jolt through her.
"That night," he continued, tilting his head slightly, "I thought you were pretending not to know me. But then I realized—you actually didn't know. Alpha Zavren. And today?"
He grinned.
"That shock on your face… priceless."
Ariana's heart slammed against her ribcage.
This man…
He seriously needed to be called Alpha Shameless.
How could he talk about something like that so casually?
And he looked so… unbothered.
Ariana inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly, as if that alone could calm the wild racing of her heart.
"Let me guess…" Zavren murmured, his voice low and dangerous.
"You thought I didn't remember you."
His gaze dipped, slow and deliberate, before returning to her eyes. A wicked smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Wrong," he whispered.
"Who could ever forget those golden eyes—the way they went wide when I spread those gorgeous legs of yours?"
Ariana's body trembled, a shiver trailing down her spine. Something sharp sparked in her chest, and a flutter of unfamiliar warmth stirred in her stomach.
Then, without warning, he pulled her closer—so close she could feel the steady rhythm of his heart through his chest, while her own heart pounded like a village square festival with no directed rhythm.
Her eyes widened, lips parting as her breath caught.
Zavren smiled slowly, watching her every reaction with dark satisfaction.
"Just like that, Snowflake," he whispered.
Zavren's voice turned smooth like velvet laced with danger.
"The painting… It's very heartbreaking to know that it's now a passing thought and a memory."
He tilted his head slightly, amusement flickering in his crimson-grey eyes.
"It shattered—a long, ancient painting—destroyed within seconds. Isn't that… intriguing, hmm?"
Ariana shook her head quickly, her lips parting but no words forming. Her breath caught in her throat.
How was she going to explain this?
Her teeth covered her lower lip softly.
"Sweetheart," he continued, his voice dropping an octave, "you don't have to worry. It will be very gut-wrenching."
He spun her slowly, his hands steady, his touch commanding. His expression didn't change—it remained serious—even as his lips curled into a grin.
How did he do that?
Smile yet look so deadly at the same time?
"It surely wouldn't be proper," he added, his voice now brushing against her ear,
"for a king to punish his bride-to-be on the day of their wedding… would it?"
Ariana's knees nearly gave way.