Meanwhile, inside the house, chaos in the guise of preparation unfolded. Sally stood in front of a large mirror, pushing her chest up with her arms while trying to strike what she thought was a seductive pose.
Her face was caked with layers of makeup, her red lips pouted unnaturally.
"Higher, Sally!" her mother hissed, spritzing perfume with reckless abandon, the room quickly becoming a choking cloud of floral and musk. "Men like a confident girl with… assets on display."
Sally grunted as she shoved her cleavage higher. "How's this?" she asked, batting her lashes dramatically.
"Perfect!" her mother exclaimed. "He'll take one look and forget his own name."
Sally twirled in her dress, nearly toppling over as she examined herself. "What do you think he's still doing out there?" she asked, her voice tinged with impatience.
Her mother waved a hand dismissively, smoothing down the edges of Sally's dress. "He's trying to make a decision, I'm sure. You were irresistible. Men need time to compose themselves when faced with perfection."
Sally grinned smugly. "Of course. He probably needed to step out and calm down."
Her father, who had been lingering near the window with a glass of whiskey in hand, suddenly sniffed the air and frowned. "He's smoking," he announced, his tone sour.
Her mother's face froze for a moment before she quickly recovered. "Probably trying to clear his head. You're a lot to take in, Sally."
Sally beamed at the compliment. "You think so?"
"Of course," her mother said. "When he comes back inside, smile wide, tilt your head a little—yes, just like that—and tell him all about how you can cook and sew. And don't forget to mention your embroidery skills. Men love a woman who can embroider."
Her father cleared his throat, setting his glass down. "And you better remember to tell him how great you are with children. Even if you've never babysat a day in your life. He needs to know you're ready to start a family."
"Yes, Father," Sally chirped, her eyes glinting with ambition.
She stood straighter, adjusting her posture in the mirror. In her mind, she was already Mrs. Sally Caspian. The luckiest girl alive. The future mate of the alpha prince.
Little did she know, her carefully crafted dream was about to shatter.
———
Mirabelle was dragged off the tree, her chest heaving as her wild heartbeat pounded in her ears.
She barely had time to catch her breath before Caspian began circling her, his piercing red gaze fixed on her like a predator sizing up its prey. His movements were slow and deliberate, each step closing the space between them.
She swallowed hard, her instincts screaming to run, but her legs refused to obey. He tilted his head, curiosity and interest burning in his eyes. Then, with no warning, he bent his head closer and sniffed her hair.
"What are you doing?" she managed to whisper, her voice trembling.
He didn't answer. Instead, he groaned low in his throat, a sound that was both pleased and primal. The vibration of it sent a strange shiver down her spine.
Caspian leaned in further, his nose brushing the curve of her neck. She gasped, her body stiffening as he trailed behind her, his presence overwhelming and inescapable.
He loved her smell.
Her breathing hitched. She could feel the heat radiating off him, the sheer dominance of his aura.
He stood tall and imposing, his black suit molding to a body that screamed power and control.
She clenched her teeth, trying desperately not to let herself react to the dangerously attractive pull of his actions.
She was nearly as tall as him, her head barely reaching his chin, but the way he loomed over her made her feel small. He pressed closer, his nose tracing down the back of her neck, inhaling deeply.
"You smell…" he murmured, his voice husky and deep, "…perfect."
Mirabelle's hands curled into fists at her sides. The word stirred something deep inside her, but she pushed it away, unwilling to fall into the spell of his raw intensity.
Caspian's wolf stirred within him, a low growl of satisfaction rumbling in his chest. For the first time that night, he felt his restless energy calm, as though she were the missing piece he had unknowingly been searching for.
His primal instincts roared to claim her, but he restrained himself. Barely.
"You're trembling," he noted, his voice almost teasing.
Mirabelle stiffened, her sharp breath betraying her resolve. "I'm not," she lied, the slight quiver in her words betraying her.
Caspian smirked. "You are," he said simply, his tone filled with a confidence that made her want to both slap him and lean into him.
His gaze softened slightly, but the fire in his eyes never dimmed.
She pressed her back against the tree, trying to create distance, but he followed, his movements slow, deliberate, and unrelenting.
Caspian let his lips hover near her ear. "Why are you hiding?" he asked, his voice low and full of authority.
Mirabelle clenched her jaw, refusing to answer. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
But Caspian's wolf wasn't so patient. It wanted her answer. It wanted her. Now.
Caspian drew back, his breaths deep and measured, his eyes never leaving her face. "Come on," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument as his fingers wrapped firmly around her frail wrist.
Mirabelle yanked back instinctively, resisting his pull. "I'm not going anywhere with you," she protested, her voice laced with panic and defiance.
Caspian arched a brow, his patience wearing thin. "Keep struggling, and I'll throw you over my shoulder," he warned, his voice low and edged with dominance.
The threat made her freeze, her heart hammering.
She didn't doubt for a second that he meant it. With a frustrated sigh, she stopped fighting, letting her body relax just enough to keep his wolf from pouncing.
"Good girl," he murmured, a hint of approval in his tone as he began leading her back toward the house.
Mirabelle followed reluctantly, her feet dragging with every step. Her mind raced, searching for another way out.
When the house came into view, her panic flared again. She twisted her wrist, trying to break free, and in a sudden burst of adrenaline, she made a run for it.
But Caspian was faster. His hand shot out, grabbing her by the back of her collar. She let out a startled yelp as he pulled her back, spinning her around to face him.
"Really?" he said, his voice dripping with exasperation. "You're only making this harder on yourself."
His grip remained firm as they approached the house. Outside, his brothers were still lounging by the car, their postures relaxed but their sharp eyes tracking his every move.
They exchanged amused glances as Caspian passed, dragging Mirabelle with him.
The door creaked open, and the warm glow of the house spilled out to greet them. The lively chatter inside came to an abrupt halt as Caspian stepped into the room, Mirabelle in tow.
"Look what I found," he announced, his deep, husky tone filling the air like a command.
The room froze. Sally's painted smile faltered, her eyes widening in disbelief. Her mother gasped, clutching her pearls dramatically. Her father's face turned pale, his lips parting in silent shock.
Mirabelle kept her head down, her face flushed with embarrassment and dread. She could feel the weight of their stares, the room thick with tension.
Caspian's gaze swept over them, daring anyone to question him. "Hiding her in the attic, were you?" he said coolly, his words slicing through the silence like a blade. "Care to explain why?"