Never Yours Alpha

CH 6 - Simon

SIMON POV

The palace received me with the kind of efficiency that pretended to be hospitality, servants appearing the moment I crossed the threshold as if they had been waiting behind the walls rather than alerted by any real security measure, which already told me more about this place than I liked.

They bowed, introduced themselves with soft voices and polite smiles, and addressed me as Sir Augustus Ratlige with the kind of reverence reserved for men who held power without deserving it, and I followed them through corridors of pale stone and polished floors while every instinct I had screamed that I was wasting time.

I should have been looking for Lily.

Instead, I was being escorted to a guest room.

The masking spray clung to my skin like a second layer of sweat, dulling my senses just enough to keep my scent buried while the potions worked under my skin, adjusting bone and muscle and color in ways I despised but tolerated because they kept me invisible, and because right now invisibility was the only thing keeping this from turning into a m******e.

Waiting had never been one of my strengths, and it sure as hell wasn’t Maddox’s either.

He paced inside me, restless and aggressive, reacting to the fae magic in the air like a challenge rather than a deterrent, and I had to keep my jaw clenched just to maintain the façade of polite interest while servants explained amenities I did not care about in a room I had no intention of staying in longer than absolutely necessary.

“This will be your accommodation during your stay, Ambassador,” one of them said, pushing open a door etched with decorative runes that looked impressive and would stop exactly nothing if someone actually wanted to get inside.

I nodded once, already reaching for the handle.

The room was large, expensive, carefully arranged to impress someone who needed to be impressed, with tall windows overlooking the inner gardens and silk sheets that smelled faintly of florals meant to calm guests who needed calming.

I wasn’t one of them.

The door barely closed behind me before I turned back toward the window, my fingers already testing the latch because leaving this room the way I had entered it felt like the wrong kind of obedience, and the urge to get out, to find her, to put my eyes on Lily and make sure she wasn’t already bound by something she hadn’t chosen, grew sharper by the second.

Maddox surged, sensing proximity, pushing against my control with a low, constant pressure that vibrated under my skin.

‘Find her.’

“Soon” I muttered under my breath, forcing my breathing steady while I planted my palm against the cold stone of the wall and waited for the spike to pass.

I had crossed into hostile territory under false identity less than an hour ago, and blowing my cover now would not help Lily, no matter how much every part of me wanted to act instead of wait.

I turned away from the window and reached for my case, intending to ground myself in something practical, when a faint sound outside the door caught my attention, subtle enough that a fae ear might have missed it, but wrong enough that mine didn’t.

Movement.

Too close.

My body reacted before I could stop it.

I crossed the room in two strides and pulled the door open hard enough that it hit the wall with a dull thud, revealing a woman who clearly hadn’t expected to be caught.

She stumbled back half a step, recovering quickly, dressed in a way that was not accidental and certainly not appropriate for someone simply passing by, her gown tight, short, and deliberately revealing in a palace that pretended to value decorum.

Maddox snapped to attention, reading her as potential threat before my mind even finished assessing the situation.

“What are you doing here,” I asked, my voice level and cold, because the fastest way to provoke a liar was not to accuse them, but to give them space to explain themselves.

Her eyes flicked past me, into the room, and then back to my face as she smoothed her expression into something coy rather than startled, which told me she was used to recovering quickly.

“I’m terribly sorry, sir,” she said, breathless but composed, “I was looking for an earring I seem to have lost, and I thought I heard it fall near your door.”

It was a lie, and not even a clever one.

There were no earrings on the floor, no reason for her to be here, and no hesitation in her tone that would suggest genuine embarrassment, only interest layered beneath the apology like a second meaning.

Maddox growled low, unimpressed.

I leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, blocking her view into the room while stepping just close enough to remind her that I was larger, stronger, and very much in control of this interaction.

“An unfortunate place to lose jewelry,” I said mildly, watching her eyes track my movements. “Especially outside a stranger’s door.”

Her lips curved into a smile that acknowledged the accusation without denying it.

“Curiosity can be dangerous,” she replied.

“So can listening at doors,” I answered, not smiling.

She studied me more carefully then, as if reassessing what she had expected to find, and when she spoke again, her tone shifted from flirtation to intent.

“I wanted to introduce myself,” she said, extending her hand. “Rosalie.”

The name clicked immediately.

Queen’s niece.

I took her hand and brought it briefly to my lips, playing the role without effort because I had spent years watching men like Sir Augustus Ratlige perform these gestures without meaning.

“Augustus Ratlige,” I said smoothly. “But I assume you already knew that.”

Her smile sharpened.

“Your reputation travels,” she said.

“I imagine it does,” I replied. “Though I wonder how much of it is accurate.”

Her gaze lingered, assessing, calculating.

“Would you happen to be related to Queen Petunia,” I asked lightly, as if the answer didn’t already matter.

Her brows lifted a fraction before she laughed softly. “Is it that obvious.”

“To someone paying attention,” I said.

Interest flared in her eyes.

“And are you paying attention, Ambassador,” she asked.

I was.

More than she realized.

“I am,” I said. “And I find myself in need of coffee.”

Her lips curved again, slower this time.

“There’s a private lounge near the east wing,” she offered. “Quiet. No servants.”

Perfect.

Time with the Queen’s niece before seeing Lily was not an inconvenience; it was an opportunity.

I gestured for her to lead the way, and as we walked through the palace together, her arm brushing mine deliberately once or twice, I kept my posture relaxed and my wolf tightly restrained, even as every instinct urged me to abandon this detour and go straight for Lily.

But this mattered too.

Because if Lily was being forced into a bond, if this marriage was more than political theater, then Rosalie would know.

And if Rosalie was circling Lily, then she was either a potential ally or a problem I needed to neutralize before it became dangerous.

As the lounge door closed behind us and the smell of coffee filled the room, I allowed myself a single, measured thought.

‘If they have touched her without her consent, there will be consequences.’

And this time, I would not step aside.