Disguised Before The Alpha Prince

Chp 59

Pearl’s POV

I don’t remember falling asleep. One moment I was curled up in the corner of that secluded chamber hiding, waiting for the guard to leave and the next, I was jolting awake, breath shallow and uneven, heart thundering like a war drum in my chest.

The room was dim, the silence far too loud. My fingers curled against the cold floor as I sat up slowly, blinking through the haze of sleep. Something didn’t feel right.

A chill crept down my spine. I wasn't alone. I could feel it.

My breaths came in fast little gasps now, too loud in the stillness. I clutched my cloak tightly around myself as my gaze darted toward the door still closed. But the air had changed. It was warmer, heavy, thick with something I couldn’t place.

No footsteps. No sound.

But the presence was unmistakable.

Was it the guard? Had he followed me all the way here? My mind raced, did I lock the door? Could someone have slipped in? What if they had been waiting all along?

I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to calm the wild beating of my heart. It wasn’t working.

I slowly began to crawl backward, further into the shadows of the room, my eyes scanning the edges of the chamber. My lips parted to call out, but no words came. My throat had gone dry.

Then I heard it.

A breath.

Not mine.

Ragged. Heavy. Almost… pained.

My pulse froze.

I wasn’t imagining it.

Someone was here.

And they were close.

The air was so tense, I thought I might scream.

I turned my head slowly toward the sound, only to feel my blood run cold.

A figure, large, cloaked was slumped against the wall in the far corner. He hadn’t been there before. I was sure of it. But now, he was there. Breathing, barely.

And something told me, this wasn’t just any man.

The scent in the room was familiar. Wild. Overpowering. Almost intoxicating.

I covered my mouth with a trembling hand, eyes wide. Moon above… Who is he? and more importantly, how did he get in here… with me?.

I stayed hidden behind the thick curtain for a moment longer, my fingers trembling as they clutched the fabric. My mind screamed at me to stay there, to keep quiet. But my curiosity... my worry... it tugged at me harder.

The man's breathing had grown louder, labored and uneven, like each inhale burned his lungs.

Was he injured?

Was he dangerous?

I bit my lip, then slowly, carefully pushed the curtain aside just enough to peek out. The chamber was dimly lit, and the figure now hunched against the far wall, seemed to glow faintly under the weak lantern light. He was gripping his arm, shoulders trembling, his cloak loose around him. I could barely see his face, but even from this distance, the raw tension in his body made something twist painfully inside me.

I stepped forward quietly, trying not to make a sound. My soft slippers barely touched the floor as I crossed the space inch by inch, never taking my eyes off him.

His breathing hitched suddenly sharp and broken. His chest rose and fell like he was fighting something inside himself. He shifted slightly, and a low sound escaped him, a guttural, almost helpless groan that made my breath catch in my throat.

What was wrong with him?

Was he… sick?

Poisoned?

My heart pounded wildly as I stepped closer. That sound... it wasn’t rage. It wasn’t violence.

It was pain.

I was only a few feet away now. He didn’t notice me, too lost in whatever battle he was fighting with himself. His head was lowered, dark strands of hair clinging to his damp forehead. His hands were trembling, fists were pressed into the stone wall behind him, as if holding himself back.

Then he shifted slightly, and the lantern light caught the edge of his jaw.

My breath stopped.

That face...

Even behind the strands of hair and the shadows...

No.

It couldn't be—

Demyan?My eyes widened, my heart was stalling in my chest.What was he doing here?

And more terrifying, What had happened to him?.

I hesitated, my hand inches away from him, trembling in the dim light.

This wasn't the Demyan I knew, the one who stood tall, always composed, untouchable in his confidence. This man before me was unraveling, his body shaking as though it were on fire from within.

I could feel the heat radiating off of him even before I touched him.

But I had to. He was in pain. And even though a part of me warned that something was wrong—terribly wrong—I reminded myself of who I was supposed to be right now. Calm. Controlled. A helper, not someone overtaken by fear or emotion.

He needs help, I told myself. He needs to be treated and questioned later. You cannot get caught up in what you feel.

Steeling myself, I slowly reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. His skin burned beneath my palm, so hot it made me flinch.

"Demyan..." I said softly.

His entire body jolted at the sound of my voice.

He whipped his head toward me, eyes wild and clouded but unmistakably his. For a second, he looked as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His breathing stopped.

"Perin?" he rasped, voice thick and broken with disbelief.

The air between us shifted. His confusion deepened as his eyes scanned my face, as if unsure whether I was real—or just a hallucination conjured by his feverish state.

“What... what are you doing here?” he whispered, almost afraid to speak louder.

My heart pounded. I didn’t answer immediately. The way he was looking at me—it held too much. Pain, longing... and something deeper. I didn’t dare move. Not yet. Because I could see it—how close he was to losing control. And despite the heat of his body, the cold dread crept into mine.

My breath caught.

He… he called me Perin.

Not Pearl.

I blinked at him, unsure if I’d heard it wrong. But no his lips had formed the name I used when I was disguised. Yet… I wasn’t in disguise now. I was dressed plainly, as a girl. My hair wasn’t hidden. My figure wasn’t bound.

Why… why would he call me Perin now?

Confusion rattled me harder than fear ever could. I took a step back, the hem of my dress brushing the cold floor. My legs felt like they might give out at any moment. My heart was thundering in my ears not because of the danger, but because of the question now burning in my mind.

He saw me. Fully. And still… he said Perin.

Demyan’s breath was still ragged, his chest rising and falling as though his lungs couldn’t catch enough air. But his eyes, even through the haze, were locked on mine.

And that gaze wasn’t filled with surprise.

No.

It was recognition.

My thoughts scattered. How long has he known? Since when? Has he always known and pretended not to?

The weight of those unanswered questions pressed against my chest.

I took another step back, shaking my head slowly, trying to piece everything together. My lips parted, but nothing came out. There were a hundred things I wanted to say—demand—but the words tangled in my throat.

“Why…” I finally whispered, barely audible. “Why did you call me that?”

But Demyan didn’t answer. His expression shifted something flickered behind those eyes. Regret? Realization? Or was it just the heat overtaking him again?

Whatever it was, I suddenly felt like I was standing at the edge of something dangerous and deep and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to leap… or run.

“You knew,” I whispered, voice trembling, “you knew all along that I wasn’t a boy.”

Demyan didn’t speak.

“You pretended,” I accused, louder this time, my voice laced with something between disbelief and hurt. “You acted like you didn’t know, like you were oblivious but you knew.” My throat tightened as I stepped toward him. “Why would you do that? Why—”

But he wasn’t listening. Or maybe he couldn’t.

His body was pressed against the far corner of the room, his cloak half-fallen, breath coming in shallow gasps. Beads of sweat glistened on his skin despite the cold stone walls. His chest heaved, and I could see the muscles in his jaw clenching, fighting… something.

“Demyan,” I said, concerned about pushing through the confusion, “talk to me.”

I moved toward him again, desperate for answers, for anything. But as I reached out, he looked at me, really looked. And his eyes… they were burning.

Not just with heat.

With restraint.

Desperation.

Regret.

He raised a trembling hand and gently, slowly pushed me away. His touch wasn’t rough. If anything, it was heartbreakingly careful. As if I was made of something fragile.

“Don’t…” he managed to rasp, voice so low and hoarse it barely reached me. “Don’t come closer.”

I froze.

He turned from me, stumbling toward the other side of the chamber like a man losing his final ounce of control. And then—

He knelt, pulling something from a hidden space in the wall: a length of thick rope.

“What are you doing?” I asked, bewildered, taking a half-step forward.

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he sat on the floor, back against the stone column, and began wrapping the rope around his wrists tightening it with a grunt, his jaw clenched hard against the pain.

“Stop,” I whispered, horrified. “You’re hurting yourself—Demyan, why—?”

His breath hitched, but he didn’t meet my eyes. “Because if I don’t… I’ll hurt you.”

“Why would you hurt me?” I asked in a trembling voice, watching him struggle with the rope, his breath erratic, sweat trailing down his brow. “Why are you tying yourself like this, Demyan?”

His head leaned back against the cold stone, eyes barely open, but even through the haze clouding his gaze, I saw the war within them.

“I left the Imperial Academy,” he said, hoarsely, “because… at this time of the month, I go into heat.”

My breath caught. Heat.

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment before he forced them open again, struggling for every word. “Normally, I isolate myself here. I don’t let anyone come close. I’ve never…” His hands clenched the rope tighter. “I’ve never wanted to mate with anyone. Not just any she-wolf would do. But this time…”

He let out a guttural, strangled sound that made my heart squeeze.

“This time it’s different,” he rasped. “Someone drugged me. Aphrodisiacs. I know it was in the wine. I can feel it… twisting me inside. I can’t control myself anymore. If I stay near you, I’ll lose it.”

My mouth went dry. My limbs froze, but my heart pounded like a thunderstorm in my chest.

“And I would never—” he gritted his teeth as another wave of heat surged through him, “—I would never… force myself on the woman I love.”

My lips parted. I couldn’t breathe.

Did he just…?

He lifted his gaze, fire and agony swirling in his irises. “You, Pearl. You’re the only one I want. The only one my wolf has ever responded to. You’re my mate. And I’d rather die in this room than touch you without your permission.”

My knees buckled, and I sank to the floor, tears brimming over, rolling silently down my cheeks. I covered my mouth with my hand, unable to contain the quiet sob that slipped through. He… he loved me.

Through all his anger, his cold glares, the tension, the mystery he had been holding back this storm.

I remembered what I’d read. Male wolves in heat, it was unbearable. And aphrodisiacs? It was torture. Pure, slow, consuming. The pain could kill.

And here he was, tying himself, breaking his body, just to protect me.

He could die.

“Demyan…” I whispered, crawling slowly toward him, voice shaking. “You i***t…”

His head turned toward me, barely able to lift it. “Stay back, Pearl. Please. I can’t hold on much longer.”

But I was already moving closer.

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