"Is Hale your fated mate?"
Serena finally broke, asking the question that had been on her mind.
Elara stopped mid-step. "Why would you just say that out loud? In his wing of the castle? Where sound travels?"
Serena danced a half-step ahead and spun on her toes to face Elara with a look of pure mischief. "You are the boldest person I know, yet you blush at the topic of your fated mate. What am I going to do with you?"
"Ideally? Not bring it up again until I have had at least two glasses of wine."
Elara wrapped her arms around herself, looking suddenly smaller in the wide hallway. "Besides, he hasn't said anything about us being fated mates... or anything at all. I don't think he is fully interested. He is still deciding whether he even wants a mate, let—"
Serena held up her hand, cutting her off mid-sentence. "There is no chance of that. None. He was so excited the night you met him."
Elara huffed quietly. "Or maybe he is just polite."
"He's nervous around you. But taking it slow doesn't mean he's unsure. He wouldn't give you flowers daily if he was unsure, or invite us to his private wing before a ball."
Elara's expression clouded, her hope clearly warring with her common sense. "Will you watch tonight and tell me what you think? Be brutally honest. I need to keep my expectations level."
"Of course. If he is messing with you, I will punch him."
Elara rolled her eyes. "You are terrifying."
They stopped before a heavy oak door, reinforced with iron bands etched in Drakenfell Beta sigils.
As Elara lifted her hand, a voice answered from within before her knuckles could even graze the wood, as if he'd been standing right on the other side.
"Come in."
When they entered Hale's study, he was leaning against his desk with the composure of a man who had not just run across the room to pose the second the door opened.
He took a step toward Elara, caught his foot on the rug, and only just managed not to faceplant, though his whiskey glass slipped from his grip in the scramble.
He lunged, catching the glass without spilling any whiskey. His forearm clipped a nearby candle stand in the process, and the candle toppled onto his desk. A loose paper caught fire instantly.
He began stomping it out, muttering to himself, whiskey sloshing out of his glass as he did so.
Then he went perfectly still.
He looked up at Elara with the face of a golden retriever who had just knocked over the Christmas tree, hopeful that she'd somehow missed all of that.
Serena stepped forward, set on helping this man no matter the cost.
"Hale, it is good to see you. Isn't she beautiful?"
She fed him the line like a stage manager saving an actor who had gone completely blank in front of a live audience. It almost worked.
"Yes," he said. "You. Pretty. Are."
He closed his eyes briefly, as if asking the gods for a merciful death. "I mean. You are pretty. Very. Gods."
Elara giggled, the sound easing the tightness in his chest.
"Careful. Keep complimenting a girl like this and she might start believing it."
She closed the distance between them.
Hale opened his mouth, likely to produce another broken sentence, but Elara kissed him before he could do further damage to the Common Tongue.
He froze, the tips of his ears going scarlet before the rest of his face caught up. Then a boyish grin broke across his mouth, like a man who had spent the last five minutes setting things on fire and still came out ahead. He grabbed both of Elara's hands without thinking.
"She's not the only one," a voice called from the corner.
Serena looked up to see Gavriel lounging, glass in hand.
For a man never short on words, Gavriel had gone quiet. She was stunning, and for once, even he knew better than to interrupt the moment too quickly by opening his mouth.
Silence stretched for a second too long, neither looking away.
Serena broke first, offering him a warm smile meant to ease the tension before it snapped.
"Great to see you as well, Gav."
It worked. Mostly.
He stood slowly and poured her a glass of whiskey. "Lovely gown."
Her fingers brushed his as she took the glass, and his hand lingered a second longer than necessary, like letting go required a conscious decision.
"I owe you much thanks. And for the earrings and shoes. They are lovely."
His eyes flicked to the earrings, then the shoes. They returned to her face slower than they'd left it. Like the route back involved stops he hadn't planned.
"Surprised you agreed to wear it. It's bold. But then again, so are you."
Serena lifted a brow, taking a slow sip. "Bold of you to gift the nicest gown in Drakenfell, complete with shoes and earrings, and not expect me to wear it."
"She is not exaggerating. You did well," Elara said, still holding both of Hale's hands. "One might think you were trying to start a political incident."
"I absolutely was. I just didn't expect the weapon to be this devastating." Gavriel reached past her for the whiskey bottle, his arm brushing across her breasts on the way. The bottle was accessible from the other side. "If you walk into that ballroom like this, someone is going to spill wine, insult royalty, or propose on the spot."
Serena flushed, warmth creeping into her cheeks. "You are being ridiculous."
That was an accident. Gavriel didn't even seem to notice he did it. But she did.
"And yet, you are enjoying every second of it. Wearing that dress and drinking whiskey." He was standing closer than when the conversation started. Serena hadn't noticed him close the distance, which meant he'd done it well.
"Living dangerously." She shook her head, trying to hide her smile behind her glass.
His grin died, just now catching the faint shadow along Serena's cheek and swelling of her lower lip—details most would miss, but not him. His body went still with a predator's suddenness, his eyes darkening.
Without thinking he lifted his hand and gently brushed his thumb along her swollen lower lip.
Heat flooded her cheeks as she stared up at him, suddenly far too aware of how close he was standing.
He leaned forward an inch, so close their lips almost touched. Time seemed to slow, the rest of the room fading as the charged silence stretched between them.
Serena's heart was thudding in her ears. Her emotions were a tangled mess. Probably because her first kiss had gone so spectacularly well.
"If you two are done, we have a ball to attend," Elara called flatly from across the room.
Serena jolted, snapping back to reality. Gods.
Gavriel schooled his expression, pulling his hand away, and his usual smirk fell back into place. "I was going to ask which poor soul you knocked out in the sparring ring. Or maybe you finally took up underground boxing. I hear you would be terrifying."
Serena sighed. "No. Just a very upset princess."
"She accused Serena of trying to seduce Dexmon." Elara's voice was dry as sand.
"I tried to tell her she was mistaken. I have only spoken to him a handful of times," Serena said, taking another sip of her whiskey.
"We did not want to seek her out," Elara added. "We were not sure she would recognize either of us."
Gavriel's brows lifted. "Well. That is unfortunate for her."
"For her?" Serena asked.
Hale cut into the conversation. "Her antics are going to end that betrothal if she is not careful. The amount of rumors she and Queen Bellatrix have been spreading is ridiculous."
It was the most coherent sentence Serena had ever heard from him, and pride bloomed in her chest. She noted he was still holding both of Elara's hands, too. Big day for the Beta of Drakenfell.
Elara bristled, her eyes flashing with indignation. "Rumors, slaps, sabotage."
"Sabotage?" Hale asked.
"She cut the back of Serena's dress too. Just reached over and sliced it like a deranged tailor. I half expected her to hiss and crawl backwards."
Elara caught Serena's eye, not saying the other part, which Serena was grateful for.
Gavriel barked a laugh. "Ah. So that is why you are wearing this dress." His eyes swept over her again, unmistakably satisfied. "I thought it would take me at least three more balls and a mild scandal to convince you."
"Yes. You saved the day, Gav." Serena's cheeks heated under the weight of his stare, for a reason she didn't want to unpack.
He swallowed. It was the first time she had ever seen Gavriel Sterling need a moment before responding. He covered it with a sip, but the pause was there.
"Do not let that go to your head," Elara snapped.
"I intend to be insufferable."
"You are already insufferable," Serena countered.
"And you keep pretending you do not like it."
Hale glanced between them. "If she walks into that ballroom looking like that, Agnes is going to lose her mind."
Serena turned her head towards him, exhaling a shaky breath. "Hopefully she will be too focused on Dexmon to notice. I would prefer at least one evening without theatrics."
Gavriel traced the rim of his glass with a thumb, his expression sharpening into something wicked. "Wager anyone? She makes a scene before midnight."
"I will take that," Hale straightened his spine, the clumsy golden-retriever energy vanishing. "She will hold it together just long enough to believe she is in control."
Elara laughed under her breath. "You sound very certain."
Gavriel set his glass down. "Stakes?"
Elara considered, then beamed. "Loser has to escort Queen Bellatrix for an entire dance. No excuses. No sudden injuries."
Hale groaned. "You are vicious."
"And," Elara added, clearly enjoying herself, "kiss her hand."
Hale sighed like a man preparing for execution. "Agreed."
Gavriel smirked. "Done."
Elara clapped once. "Excellent. I will be judging."
Gavriel lifted his glass. "Tonight, we are going to be very entertained."
Serena raised her glass with the rest of them. But something in the back of her mind told her 'entertained' was not the word for what tonight was going to be.
As she turned towards the door, Gavriel watched the dress move with her body in a way that made his cock ache. He had already decided ten days ago that he wanted Serena as his mate, and had been waiting for the right time.
Tonight he was claiming her. That dress was coming up around her waist, his mark was going on her neck, and she was going to be moaning his name.