Page 50 of My Fated Alpha: The Royals

When she excused herself to go to the powder room, the marquis automatically offered, “Let me accompany you—-”

Soleil shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Thank you, milord, but no. Stop treating me like a damsel in distress—-”

“How about,” he said under his breath, “I turn you into a damsel in acute arousal—-”

“Milord!”

He let out a low sigh. “I shall wait here then.”

“You may wait for a long time,” she warned. “I need to fix my hair a bit. All those whirls and twirls...”

Ilie frowned. “It looks fine to me.”

“Oh, but you’re a gentleman and so you do not know better.” She curtsied to him and made her way to the powder room.

Inside, she waited for the other ladies to leave before locking the door.

She looked around her and almost laughed. The powder room...was decorated in shades of blue. Her gaze fell on the mantel clock above the fireplace.

Five minutes before midnight.

Soleil closed her eyes.

She saw her life flash before her eyes. Every precious moment with her Papa and her sisters, but oh, how curious, she thought. Every once in a while, Ilie’s image would drift across her mind, like he meant more to her than everything – even if she knew they were only together for a short while.

And then she felt it—-

Something inside of her starting to crack, like a monster about to come into the world and its sole purpose was to devour her.

Slowly, Soleil fell to the carpet.

She closed her eyes just as she heard the door behind her crash open.

Her sister’s screams—-

Her Papa bellowing for help—-

And then she felt him.

The marquis.

Ilie.

Outside, wolves began to howl, a cacophonous sound of despair.

The marquis had dragged her into his lap, shaking her. “What the fuck’s wrong with her? Tell me!”

“She’s cursed,” Fleur was crying.

Oh, Fleur. Always too impetuous for her own good.

“She needs a heartkeeper or she’ll die,” Aurora said in a rush, tears choking her voice.

And of course, Aurora, always thinking she needed to save the world just because she happened to be smarter than most.

“Open your eyes, damn you.”

He shook her, again and again, and still she wouldn’t have given in if she had not heard him speak again—-

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