Disguised Before The Alpha Prince

Chp 21

DEMYAN – POV

I sat in silence as the village women flooded in and out of the room, giggling, whispering, treating her like a bride about to meet her groom. I should have told them to stop. I should have insisted it was a misunderstanding. But I didn’t.

Instead, I watched the curtain behind which they led her. I listened to the rustling fabric, the quiet gasps and laughter as they fussed over her. My body still ached from the wound, but I barely noticed the pain. My focus was entirely on the girl behind the veil of silk.

When she finally stepped out—

I forgot how to breathe.

The sight of her made my throat tighten. She looked like something out of a dream—hair unbound and shining like midnight under firelight, cascading down her back with a few delicate curls brushing her collarbone. The dress they’d wrapped her in was soft, flowing, and it clung to her like it had been stitched just for her.

I’d seen Perin every day for weeks—smirking, scowling, fighting, deflecting—but now, standing before me, was Pearl.

And moon above, she was—

“Familiar,” I said. That was all I could manage.

Because she was. The curve of her jaw, the fire in her eyes, even the softness in her smile—it had always been there, hidden beneath the disguise. But now that I saw her like this, I couldn’t unsee it.

I was drawn to her. And that terrified me.

She looked away when I said it, pretending to fuss with the ends of the dress. “I didn’t have a choice,” she said. “They insisted.”

I’m glad they did, I almost said. But I didn’t.

Instead, I stood—wincing slightly—and crossed the space between us. “They want us to light a candle at the shrine, right?”

She nodded, still not quite meeting my gaze.

“Then let’s go. Might as well finish the part they expect us to play.”

But I couldn’t stop watching her as we walked through the village, side by side, lanterns flickering around us and petals falling from passing children. The moon was full above us, casting everything in silver. It felt surreal—almost too perfect. The villagers smiled and bowed their heads in approval as we passed, clearly convinced we were fated.

We reached the shrine, a simple altar beneath an old tree where white candles flickered and the air was rich with the scent of jasmine.

Pearl hesitated before picking up a candle.

“You’re supposed to whisper a wish,” she said softly, her voice barely above a breath.

“What are you wishing for?” I asked.

She gave me a look. “You’re not supposed to ask that.”

I smirked despite myself. “Figures.”

But when she closed her eyes and murmured something to the flame, her face softened in a way that made my chest ache. I realized then that I would give anything to know what she’d whispered.

I lit mine next. I didn’t whisper a wish.

I made a vow.

I’ll protect you, Pearl. Even if you never forgive me for finding out who you are.

We stood there for a moment, side by side again, just like we had been when we first started this twisted, strange journey together.

But this time, I could hear her heartbeat.

And worse—I could feel mine racing to match it.

The walk back from the shrine was silent, but not awkward. It was the kind of silence that settled between people who didn’t know how to speak without revealing too much.

Pearl walked a step ahead of me, her long hair swaying gently with each movement. The villagers had started to clear the streets, but a few still offered soft smiles as we passed—thinking we were just another couple in love. I wasn’t sure if I should laugh or be terrified by how easy it would be to believe them.

Once we reached the small house, she stepped inside first, lighting a lantern and placing it by the bedside. The room was warm, dim, and suddenly too quiet.

I closed the door behind me.

She stood with her back to me, undoing the sash of the traditional dress. “Could you… turn around?”

I did, without a word. My heart pounded at how gentle her voice had sounded—barely a whisper, like she trusted me not to break the moment.

When I finally turned back, she had changed into her usual clothes, her long hair still loose. She was brushing it with her fingers, eyes distant, expression unreadable.

“You were quiet at the shrine,” she said, not looking at me. “Did you… make a wish?”

I hesitated. “Something like that.”

“What did you wish for?” she asked, smiling softly.

I paused. “I thought you said we weren’t supposed to ask that.”

She laughed quietly, the sound curling through the air like a melody. “You remember everything I say.”

Only when it’s you, I wanted to say. Instead, I shrugged. “I remember what matters.”

She turned to look at me, and for a second, neither of us moved.

Then her voice dropped. “Demyan… do you believe in fated mates?”

I froze.

The question came out of nowhere, but it hit like a punch to the ribs.

“Why?” I asked carefully.

She shrugged, but her eyes didn’t meet mine. “Just something the old woman said… about us looking like mates. But I’m not… I haven’t been marked. And I don’t feel… anything like that.”

A lie. Or maybe a defense.

She didn’t know I was an Alpha. She didn’t know that the moment I touched her hand back in that bed, every instinct inside me screamed that she was mine.

“I think fate is a strange thing,” I said slowly. “Sometimes it hides what’s meant to be… until we’re ready to see it.”

She looked down at her fingers, then to the bed—the only bed in the room.

I cleared my throat. “You can take the bed.”

She frowned. “What about you?”

“The floor’s fine.”

She hesitated. “We can… share it. Just for tonight.”

The words hung between us.

I nodded, trying to keep my breath steady. “Alright.”

We laid side by side, not touching. The room was silent, save for the rustling of the wind outside and the soft, steady beat of her breath beside me.

Just when I thought she’d fallen asleep, she whispered my name.

“Demyan.”

My heart stopped.

Then she murmured something else—soft, broken, as if in a dream.

I turned to look at her. Her brows were furrowed, lips parted slightly. She was dreaming… and calling out to me.

I wanted to pull her into my arms, to tell her I was here. That she didn’t need to be afraid.

But I stayed still, letting the sound of my name on her lips settle into my bones.

She might not know what she feels yet.

But I do. Somewhere deep down, I wish Perin and Pearl were the same person. Then it would make sense why I was so confused about my feelings when I was with Perin—because Perin is a girl.

I have no idea when I drifted off to sleep, but a sudden voice pulled me out of it. My eyes flew open, and when I looked around, she was gone.

I got up from the bedding and began to search for her. My heart was racing. How dare she leave me alone here—without even telling me?

I stepped out of the room and noticed Maedra sitting under a tree. The same woman who had treated my wounds. She had a gentle smile on her face, and though her eyes were closed, it felt like she already knew I was there.

“Searching for someone?” she asked as she blew the smoke out of her pipe, her eyes still shut.

“Yes, I’m looking for Pearl. I have no idea where she disappeared to,” I replied, my eyes scanning around, hoping to catch even a glimpse of her.

“Your mate is gone—or should I say, your future mate. When you both entered the village, you didn’t even know her, and yet you lied,” she said calmly, puffing on her pipe as her walking stick rested beside her.

How did she know we weren’t a real couple? Was she some kind of shaman who knew everything? I looked at her suspiciously.

She chuckled softly. “I’m not a shaman. I let you stay in my village even after knowing you were pretending—because fate has planned something else for both of you,” she said with a mysterious smile.

“What do you mean?” I asked, stepping closer to her.

She raised her hand to stop me. “Someone is here for you. Leave now—I don’t like unwanted guests at my place.”

I turned around and spotted Karl standing at a distance, waiting. His expression was tense—he must’ve been worried about me.

I clenched my fists at the sight of Karl. It should’ve felt like relief—seeing one of my men after days of pain and confusion. But all I felt was an ache in my chest. My eyes wandered again, scanning for her. Pearl. The girl who nursed me back from the edge. The girl who had Perin’s eyes. Perin’s softness. Perin’s scent.

“She didn’t even say goodbye…” I muttered, more to myself than to Maedra.

“She couldn’t,” Maedra replied, finally opening her eyes. Her gaze was sharp, wise, like she saw more than the world around her. “That girl… she was afraid.”

“Afraid of me?” I asked, my voice hollow. The idea made something in me twist uncomfortably.

“No,” she said softly, shaking her head. “Afraid of herself. Of what she's starting to feel. You both are standing at the edge of something neither of you fully understands. But the heart always knows what the mind denies.”

I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “She’s not my mate.”

Maedra raised a brow. “Isn’t she?” she asked, tilting her head. “You tell me, young wolf. If she isn’t, then why are you still here searching for her? Why did your body refuse to rest until you knew she was safe?”

I didn’t have an answer.

I glanced again at Karl, who was waiting patiently. I should leave. My duty was calling. I had already delayed too long.

But…

“I owe her my life,” I said quietly.

“No,” Maedra replied. “You owe her your truth. When the time is right, she will need to hear it—from you.”

I turned back toward the house, my feet heavy. Everything inside me wanted to run through the trees, to find her. To ask her why she risked so much for me. To ask her if she… remembered my name on her lips while she slept. But I couldn’t. Not yet.

“She went to the temple,” Maedra said, breaking my spiral. “Wearing your lies like a shield. Brave, that one. She may not have a mark on her neck, but fate has already carved something far deeper between you two.”

My jaw tightened. “You think she’s—?”

“I think the moon has strange ways of weaving stories,” she said, slowly getting to her feet with her cane. “And yours is just beginning.”

I stood there for a moment longer, caught between duty and something far more dangerous—hope. Then, finally, I turned toward Karl, but my heart stayed behind.