Bonus Chapter 7

I stand frozen. 
Oh, Goddess...
I should have waited. I feel it so deeply in my bones now.
He isn’t just an Alpha.
He’s *the* Alpha.
Alpha King!
“Alpha King,” I echo, breathless.
He chuckles softly, and it rolls down my spine like velvet. So masculine and perfect.
Rhys shifts his weight slightly in a slow, deliberate way; he moves with such authority that I can see that he doesn’t need to shout to prove. His dark blue eyes stay on me, studying me like I’m something precious, rare.
“You all right?” he asks, his voice dipped in concern.
I blink. “Yes! I’m fine. I—” My cheeks burn. Oh Moon Goddess, I’m probably red as cranberries. “Sorry, I just didn’t know you were… I mean, that you were a king. That sounds so… Oh Stars.”
He grins again, amused. “It’s not as dramatic as it sounds. Promise. I’m still Rhys. Still knackered when I don’t sleep and still dead grumpy before coffee.”
I laugh, because I don’t know what else to do, and I clutch my fingers together to stop them from fidgeting. The pale lilac sweater dress I’m wearing suddenly feels much too soft and silly for royalty. My braid is loose, one strand falling over my eye, and I swipe it back quickly.
He notices.
Rhys’s gaze warms, lingers for a moment. “You look lovely, by the way.”
“Oh!” My voice comes out too high. I clear my throat. “Thank you.”
*Say something clever, Wren*.
“I like your… coat.”
He looks down at the dark navy wool hugging his frame, then back up with a smirk. “Cheers. Borrowed it from Ava’s fella. It’s a bit tight on the shoulders, though.”
We both laugh, and some of the awkwardness slips away like melting snow.
There’s a beat. A soft silence.
“Would you like to come in?” I ask quickly, stepping aside and nudging the door open a little more, my fingers tightening on the edge without meaning to.
He gives me a nod, then that maddening, lazy smile. “Sure, little queen.”
*Little queen.*
Oh, my Goddess.
The nickname wraps around me like a warm stroke, all teasing and reverent at once. I can feel the blush blooming high on my cheeks, all the way to the tips of my ears. 
Does he mean it as a joke? Or does it mean something more—something about who I am to him?
I try not to read into it. I fail miserably.
Rhys walks in like he owns any space he steps into, but not in an arrogant way. No, there’s something grounded about him. His presence is heavy. Just like his aura.
He glances around the room briefly, but his eyes return to me too quickly.
I close the door softly, then turn to face him. My heart is still racing. And he can hear it.
“So,” I begin, fingers twisting together, “how did you end up here?”
He raises a brow, then chuckles. “Straight to the interrogation, eh?”
“I didn’t mean it like that!” I protest, horrified.
He raises both hands, still smiling with a crooked grin. Goddess, he’s so handsome! “Easy, little queen. I was only having a laugh.”
The nickname makes my cheeks warm instantly, and I duck my head, pretending to fuss with the hem of my pale lilac sweater dress. I don’t know how he manages it—this effortless teasing that leaves my heart fluttering.
I chew the inside of my cheek, trying to calm the wave of warmth blooming across my chest.
I glance at him again, just in time to see him settling into the armchair by the frosted window, stretching his long legs in front of him. I wonder if he wants to appear less... threatening.
I can feel the tension beneath his casual posture. Like he’s holding back... something.
“I came because Ava invited me,” he says simply.
I blink. “She did?”
He nods. “Yeah. Wouldn’t take no for an answer, either. Said I needed a proper Christmas. My lot don’t really do the whole holly-and-jolly thing. We celebrate the New Year instead. Bit darker. A bit… louder.” He arches a brow. “So Ava said I was missing out.”
I smile at the mention of my cousin, heart warming. “That sounds like Ava. She always wants everyone to feel included.”
“Mm.” Rhys says, softer this time, “That’s Ava for you.” His dark blue gaze lifts to the window, and something shifts in his expression—fondness wrapped in memory. “She’s… one of the best people I know. A bloody saint, that one. Too good for this world, if you ask me.” Rhys exhales. “She’s got one of those rare hearts, you know? The kind you don’t meet twice in one life. Keeps you warm without even trying.”
There’s affection in his voice, pure and honest.
I sit on the edge of the bed, trying to keep a respectful distance, though my wolf is practically howling. She craves his scent. The pull is constant.
Yeah, he described Ava perfectly. “She’s my best friend,” I say, smiling with pride.
“Oh no,” Rhys says instantly. He turns back to me sharply. “She’s *my* best friend.”
My mouth parts. “Excuse me?”
He leans forward like a lazy cat stretching toward a dangling thread. He smirks. “We might have to fight for that title, poppet. Duel or something.”
A surprised laugh slips from my lips. “Well, I knew her first.”
“Doesn’t count. She saved my arse when I needed it most. Never asked for anything.”
My smile softens. “She does that.”
Rhys nods. “Yeah. Ava saw something good in me before I even did.” He clears his throat. “She didn’t even know I was an Alpha King at the time.”
My eyes go wide. I blink, surprised. “She didn’t know?”
“Nope. Took me in like some stray mutt. Gave me her sofa, her food. Teased the hell out of me for months after she found out.”
My throat tightens. I can *see* Ava doing that. 
“She does that,” I whisper. “She’s… sunshine.”
Rhys chuckles, but the sound is quiet. “Yeah. Bloody blinding, that one. Especially her aura.” He shakes his head, a touch of mischief curling in his smile. “I slept on her couch for two months before she realised I wasn’t exactly… ordinary. Still took the piss out of me when she found out. Said I snore like a beast and drink too much tea for someone who’s meant to be terrifying.”
I laugh again, shoulders easing. The image is too vivid. Ava teasing a brooding Alpha King over tea bags and blanket fluff.
“She’s got a gift for making everyone feel like they belong,” I say softly. Uncle Ethan and Aunt Allie are very proud of her. All of us are.
“Yes, she does,” he agrees, voice dipping lower.
There’s a moment between us. 
The snow still falls beyond the glass, soft and steady, and his perfect scent brushes the air close to my nose. 
His eyes hold mine. Deep. Searching. But not demanding. 
“She’s still *my* best friend,” I say, attempting indignation but failing miserably. I sound more like a flustered toddler than anything. “You can’t have her.”
Rhys’s smile tilts, slow and smug. “Then I’ll bloody well fight for the title. Because Ava? She’s the one who pointed me to where I’d find *you*.”
My cheeks burn. I try to swallow the lump in my throat.
I sit stiffly on the edge of my bed, my knees together, hands folded in my lap like I’m back at etiquette lessons. 
My pale lilac sweater dress clings lightly to my legs, the hem riding up the slightest bit as I shift. I pull it back down, unnecessarily. He hasn’t said anything else. He hasn’t done anything.
And yet, I feel exposed.
He called me *little queen*.
The name echoes in my head like a whisper tucked behind my ear. Not mocking. Not sarcastic. Just… reverent. Like he’d meant it. Like I’m someone *worth* calling that. Someone he sees that way.
*Little queen.*
And something about it makes my chest tighten, and my toes curl into the rug.
I tuck my braid over my shoulder, fingers brushing the tail of it nervously. It’s come a bit loose. My hair always betrays me when I want to look polished. Perfect. Controlled.
My cheeks burn. I know they must be red again. They always are. Every time he looks at me too long, or speaks with that slow, lilting accent of his that makes every word sound vaguely wicked—even when he’s just saying ‘sure’.
And I don’t know how to act around him. Not really.
Because Rhys’s not just handsome—he’s more than that. He’s powerful. An Alpha. *A King*. 
And he’s *mine.*
The truth of it keeps circling me.
Fated mates.
It should feel like a gift. A blessing.
It *is*.
And yet.
My chest constricts as the guilt creeps in again. I shouldn’t be here—flushed and shy and flattered—after everything.
I shouldn’t get to sit here and feel lucky. Not when I made such a mess of it all.
Because I *did* make a mess. A huge, public, shameful mess. In front of all my family.
Stupid. I’m so stupid!
I can still see it if I close my eyes—the way I cut Ava off mid-sentence when she tried to tell me someone was coming on the trip on that damn phone call. I didn’t even let her finish. She had this excited bubbly in her voice, that particular kind she gets when she knows something is going to change and she’s dying to watch it happen.
After all, she’s my Aunt Allie’s daughter.
I didn’t listen. Not my aunt or my cousin.
I was so determined to prove something to myself. So *desperate* to take control, to choose a future before fate could pick one for me. I thought I knew better.
But instead… I humiliated myself. Stephen is dead and I didn’t mean that to happen. 
I carved a path of embarrassment and mistakes right through my chest. And the worst part, the part I can’t stop circling back to, is that...
*Rhys was always coming.*
He was on his way.
And if I’d just listened to Ava—if I hadn’t rushed to end the call—I might have never even got Stephen’s chosen claiming mark.
I might have never had to see the disappointment in my family’s face, or feel that awful heat in my stomach when Stephen didn’t make me feel like I had been silently begging the Moon Goddess for.
I might have met Rhys with my whole family by my side to witness our first meeting; it would have been so perfect. Without all the noise and damage between us.
My stomach churns.
I clasp my hands tighter in my lap.
If I could go back—if I could reach into the past and grab that version of myself—I would shake her. 
I would say *wait*. 
*Just wait, Wren.* He’s coming. 
He’s already on the path to you. You don’t have to force anything. You don’t have to prove you’re brave by rushing into something that isn’t right.
But it’s too late now.
I hurt people. I hurt myself. And I hurt *him*. Not by choice, but by consequence. Because fate still led him here—to me—but not before I made it so much harder than it had to be.
And now he’s here.
Kind. Steady. Looking at me like I’m something worth waiting for.
It makes my throat ache.
How can he be like this? After everything? After watching me stumble and fumble my way through something I thought was love?
How can he still look at me like I’m worth fighting for?
I’m not brave like Ava. 
Or my sister Lily. 
I don’t know how to make wild choices or leap into adventure. I hold my breath through life, waiting for permission to exhale. I smooth things over. I smile. I apologise too often. I try to be what everyone expects because it’s easier than disappointing anyone.
But I disappointed *him*.
I feel my eyes sting, sharp and sudden.
No, no—not now.
I blink quickly, trying to chase it away, but the tears press forward anyway. Quiet and insistent.
He’s still watching me from the chair, not saying anything. Just present. 
I should be glowing with joy right now. A fated mate. A King. It’s everything I could’ve wished for. *More* than I even prayed for.
But all I can think about is how I almost ruined it before it even began.
I press my fingers gently beneath my eyes delicately, trying not to smudge my makeup, trying to keep myself composed. 
My vision wavers anyway.
This should be the happiest moment of my life.
But all I feel is the ache of *almost*.
And the relentless sting of regret.
Rhys hasn’t moved.
He’s still in that chair, arm draped casually across the armrest, watching me like I’m something precious that might crack if he so much as blinks. The dark navy wool of his jumper hugs his chest and arms, and I wish he wouldn’t look at me like that. Or maybe I wish he’d never stop. 
My heart lurches. I can’t bear the weight of silence any longer.
“I—I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice trembling, my eyes fixed on the floor because I can’t quite bring myself to meet his gaze. “I should have waited. It’s was so stupid. I was stupid.”
Rhys shifts, and that alone feels too much. “Don’t say that,” he mutters. 
But I do look at him now. 
And it’s not anger I see there. 
It’s something deeper. Tighter. Strained.
“I didn’t know,” I rush on, cheeks flushing hot as guilt surges in me again. “I didn’t know you were coming. If I had, Rhys, I swear I would’ve waited. I didn’t mean to make such a mess of things. I was just… trying to feel like I had a say in something for once.”
He exhales slowly. His jaw tightens. “Yeah. Well.” His beautiful British accent sharpens the edges of the next single word. “Didn’t much like knowing you choose a mate for yourself, love. Didn’t like it at all.”
I flinch.
“I know,” I whisper.
“I’ve been waiting for you for longer than you’ve even known what waiting feels like,” Rhys says, low and firm. 
He looks like he’s in his early thirties, so he’s definitely waited longer than I have. 
Rhys goes on, “Never gave up. Never doubted you’d come. I knew my Luna Queen would arrive when she was ready. And I was ready to wait.”
I blink, and the first tear spills free.
It lands on my knuckle.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper again, rising shakily to my feet and stepping closer to him. “Please, Rhys. Please tell me what to do. I want to fix this. I want to make you happy. That’s all I want.”
I stop just short of touching him, then lower myself to my knees before him. I barely feel the plush carpet beneath them. All I feel is the racing in my chest and the heat in my cheeks.
“Tell me what to do,” I beg, tipping my face up to him. “Please. I’ll do anything. I waited, prayed so long for this… for you. I want this bond. I want to make it work. I want *you*.”
His gaze drops to me slowly. And his silence scorches.
He studies me. For so long, I start to tremble.
Trying not to touch him, my fingers clutch the hem of my dress, and I try not to cry again. Try not to make a fool of myself. But I can feel my braid slipping loose over my shoulder, and I must look like a mess kneeling here like this. Desperate. 
But I don’t care.
Because my mate matters.
He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, towering over me from the chair, one brow arched. “Anything?”
My heart skips.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Anything.”