Chapter Text
The Royal Council had announced it weeks ago, and now the inevitable had arrived. The arranged marriage meant to stop the coming war between our kingdoms was no longer a rumor.
The Palace King of Ivalion had formally requested the hand of Prince Pete of the Harayia Kingdom a desperate, calculated move to halt Harayia's relentless attacks on the Palace of Hayraia. King Foe, ruler of Harayia, had accepted without hesitation, his signature sealing a pact that generations of hostility could not undo.
The news had spread like wildfire.
Two of the most powerful kingdoms, historically sworn enemies, were now bound together by marriage.
And today, that union was finally taking place.
"Pete, you can still run away," Prince Khun whispered beside me, his voice low, urgent.
I laughed softly, though it sounded hollow even to my own ears. "Didn't you say it yourself? That a prince must do everything for his people?" I forced a smile, though my stomach twisted in knots.
Khun's grip on my arm tightened. "I didn't say you had to take it this seriously!" he snapped.
"Prince Khun! You'll suffocate Prince Pete!" Arm scolded, rushing toward us.
"Why aren't you happy, Prince Khun?" Pol chimed in. "Pete is marrying your cousin the king of the strongest kingdom!"
Khun's glare could have pierced steel. "How could I be happy? That's Vegas! You all know who Vegas is! He's—he's not worthy of Pete!" His voice shook, but it wasn't just frustration. There was fear. Concern. Something deeper, something I didn't have the words to process.
I reached for his hand and squeezed it. "The decision has already been made by my father. There's nothing we can do," I said softly. "I have to obey, even if it goes against everything I want."
Khun's eyes widened in disbelief. "Why do you sound so calm? You don't even like Vegas or is there something you're not telling me?"
I shook my head, swallowing hard. "This, this is my duty as a prince. If it is my father's order, I must follow it."
Silence fell. Heavy. Suffocating.
I laughed softly, trying to cut the tension. But it felt hollow, even to me.
"I still don't understand why, out of everyone, Vegas chose to ask for your hand," Khun muttered.
"Maybe he thought no one else would accept him, given his personality?" Pol said cautiously.
"Unlikely," Arm replied. "So many nobles wanted him, despite his temper. Yet he rejected all of them."
Khun shook his head. "I agree with Pol. Have you seen him? He's terrifying but terrifyingly handsome."
Before the arguments could continue, the door opened. The signal. The wedding was about to begin.
My father entered, followed by his guards.
"The ceremony is starting. You may all step outside," he commanded.
Khun, Arm, and Pol bowed, their expressions grim, and left.
"You truly resemble your mother," my father said softly, drawing me into his embrace. I pressed my cheek to his chest, feeling the warmth I would soon be leaving behind.
"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you, my child," he murmured.
"I understand, Father," I whispered, holding back tears. Any hint of crying would ruin the makeup and the ceremony.
"Be good," he said, pulling back slightly, his eyes glistening. "No matter what happens come home to me."
I nodded, forcing a smile.
When he left, the room felt unbearably empty, like a hollow shell echoing with the absence of everyone I loved.
A few minutes later, the door opened again. It was time.
I stepped out slowly, escorted by the guards, toward the grand hall. My heart hammered violently. Every step felt heavier than the last. Damn it this is really happening.
And then I saw him.
Vegas Theerapanyakul.
No smile. No warmth. No affection. Just eyes sharp enough to cut glass, locking onto mine with precision. I couldn't look away.
Halfway down the aisle, my father joined me and guided me forward. I glanced at him tears glimmered in his eyes.
"Make sure he keeps you safe," he said shakily.
I forced a smile and nodded. Faces surrounded me nobles, soldiers, princes I barely recognized. Prince Khun openly wept, Arm and Pol wiped their eyes discreetly, guards stood stoic but tense. I gave them all a faint smile, knowing they were worried for me.
Finally, we reached the front.
My father placed my hand into Vegas's. His grip was firm. Cold. Ice against my palm.
Without a word, Vegas accepted me and led me to stand before the priest.
The ceremony began. The words floated past my ears without meaning. My body moved by obligation alone.
Then came the moment that stopped time.
"You may now kiss the bride, King."
I froze.
We turned to face each other. And then, finally, I truly saw him. Sharp features. Eyes colder than ice. Lips pressed in a thin line, emotionless. A faint crease in his brow hinted at annoyance or perhaps judgment.
Vegas Theerapanyakul didn't look at me with love.
He looked at me like I was a burden he never asked for but would never relinquish.
"This marriage is only for show," he murmured, voice low, just for me.
"Good," I whispered back, barely moving my lips. "I refuse to love a tyrant," I said coldly, deliberately.
A flicker of annoyance crossed his eyes.
Then his hand slid to my waist, firm, pulling me closer without permission. My palm pressed against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat. Calm. Unbothered. Like this entire ceremony meant nothing to him.
Slowly, deliberately, he leaned in.
I closed my eyes.
For a fleeting moment, our lips met. Not tender. Not warm. Controlled. Practiced. Void of affection.
As quickly as it happened, I pulled away.
We turned toward the crowd, faces perfectly composed, smiles polished and royal.
To them, it was the kiss of unity.
To us, it was nothing more than a performance.
Vegas Theerapanyakul did not look at me again.
And in that moment, I knew.
This marriage would be a battlefield long before it could ever feel like a home.
Even as the ceremony ended, I felt the weight of his gaze cold, possessive, commanding on my back as we walked through the hall. Every whisper, every glance, every subtle motion of his hand along my arm screamed ownership. My chest tightened. My stomach churned. I wanted to pull away, but I couldn't. He had me anchored with a force stronger than my own will.
Even when the crowd applauded, when nobles whispered compliments and gasped at our attire, I could only feel the invisible chain wrapped around me. He was a king, a ruler, a weapon and somehow, I was already part of his arsenal.
I wanted to run. To flee. But my feet refused. My body refused.
He leaned closer, whispering coldly, just for me:
"Remember this, Pete. You are mine. Not by choice, but by right."
I swallowed hard, the air thick in my lungs. And even though my heart screamed, even though my mind screamed, I found myself nodding-not out of acceptance, but because the truth was undeniable.
And as the crowd roared their approval, I realized something terrifying: the real challenge hadn't begun yet.
The battlefield wasn't outside the palace walls-it was here. Between him and me.
When I arrived at Vegas's palace, I wasn't treated like a spouse.
I was treated like a political hostage.
For an entire month, I felt like I couldn't breathe under the suffocating strictness of this place. Everything here was rigid-silent, cold, controlled. And worst of all, I had no one. I didn't know anyone, and I certainly wasn't close to anyone.
I spent most of my time locked inside my room.
Yes! my room.
We didn't sleep together. That was my choice. I refused. And I didn't allow anyone inside my space.
"Nop," I called out to Nop, the head guard. "You moved here? Seriously? This palace's vibe is completely different from ours!" I shouted, throwing my hands up in exasperation.
Nop laughed softly, the sound oddly comforting in this cold place.
"You really haven't changed, Prince," he said fondly, his eyes crinkling.
"But you're right," he added, a shadow crossing his features. "Everything here is different just like you and King Vegas."
I rolled my eyes, forcing a smile, but my stomach twisted. My heart beat faster than usual.
Then the atmosphere shifted.
The King of the Kingdom arrived and took the seat beside me.
Everyone immediately straightened and bowed.
I didn't.
"Is this palace meant to impress me?" I asked calmly, my voice trembling slightly despite my best effort to remain composed.
"No," he answered coldly. "It's meant to remind you who holds the power."
My chest tightened. The weight of his words pressed down on me, suffocating.
"You're no longer in your kingdom," he continued, his voice low and commanding. "You will follow the rules of this palace."
I lowered my head, biting my lip to stop the quiver that threatened to betray me.
Even my father had never spoken to me like that.
I hurriedly finished my meal, ignoring the nausea twisting my stomach. I just wanted to leave. But the moment I stood, a hand grabbed my wrist.
I froze and turned to him.
"Your training begins today."
"Huh?" I blinked. "Training? For what?"
A smirk curved his lips-sharp and unsettling. He raised his hand, signaling Nop to step forward.
"Take care of him," he said before turning away, leaving me standing there, confused and slightly panicked.
I stared at Nop, raising an eyebrow.
"Prince," he said gently, "we need to go to the training hall."
My mind raced. Training? What kind of training?
We walked through cold stone corridors, echoes of our footsteps bouncing back at me. My stomach churned. Each step felt heavier than the last, as though the walls themselves were pushing me back.
Nop opened the doors, and my breath caught.
Inside were swords dozens of them along with spears, shields, and weapons used in war. The metallic scent was sharp, almost suffocating.
"Everyone, listen up."
The entire room stopped and turned toward us.
"The training of King Vegas's spouse will begin now."
They bowed.
I frowned. My hands trembled slightly, and a cold sweat prickled my neck. "What kind of training is this?"
"By the King's order," Nop replied, his voice steady but soft, "you must learn how to wield a weapon."
My eyes widened. My fingers twitched. "Y-you're serious?"
He nodded. "This is essential. For your safety-should anything go wrong."
I forced a smile, bitter and shaky. "Well maybe I'll need these skills if I ever get angry enough to stab your king," I muttered under my breath, feeling the flush of heat creep up my neck.
Then I heard the whispers.
"Doesn't King Vegas know his spouse has a weak body?"
"That's the first time he's ever held a sword, right?"
My jaw clenched. Weak? Seriously?
I gritted my teeth, staring at the polished blades lined up before me. They didn't know me. They had no idea.
Didn't they know I was the best strategist in our palace? Didn't they know I had been trained in everything from battlefield tactics to diplomacy? They only saw a prince they didn't see me.
Pete. Calm down. Don't listen to them.
I inhaled deeply, letting the weight of the room fall behind me. Then, Nop handed me a sword.
I froze.
It was heavier than I expected-but it felt right.
"We can enter the ring now," Nop said quietly.
I shook my head. "I want a real opponent."
The room fell silent, and I could feel dozens of eyes on me, measuring, judging.
Nop blinked. "Prince Pete, are you sure—"
"I'm sure," I said confidently, raising the sword. My knuckles whitened as I gripped it tightly.
I stepped into the ring. The floor creaked beneath my boots. My heartbeat roared in my ears.
My opponent was larger, broader, and visibly stronger. He sneered, as if certain I would fail.
I didn't flinch.
I waited.
Then he struck.
I dodged, spun, slid my blade across him but he blocked it. My chest heaved as adrenaline surged. I kicked him in the stomach, forcing him back, and lunged again. My strikes were sharp, fast, reckless but I moved with a purpose.
He shoved me away, and I skidded across the floor. Nop's voice rang out sharply: "Prince Pete! Focus! Don't match his strength control the flow!"
I steadied my breathing. I could feel the sweat on my back, dripping, but I forced myself calm. I had to.
He attacked again harder this time, every strike fueled by aggression.
I met it.
Our swords clashed, sparks flying as metal met metal. I twisted, redirected, and finally, with one swift motion, disarmed him.
His sword clattered to the floor.
I pressed my blade to his neck.
Silence.
My breath came in ragged gasps. My hands shook. Blood smeared my palm from the cut I hadn't even noticed.
"It's truly foolish," I said, voice trembling but defiant, "to believe rumors that the king's only child is weak."
Before I could celebrate, a shadow fell over me.
"Enough."
I looked up.
Vegas.
The coldest glare I'd ever seen burned into me. My knees buckled beneath me, and I hit the floor with a thud.
"Prince Pete!" Nop shouted, rushing to my side.
I leaned heavily against him, panting. My hand bled, and my legs shook violently.
Vegas said nothing.
His presence was enough sharp, imposing, all-consuming. My heart raced, my chest tight, but there was something else this time. Something dangerous. Something that made me feel alive.
For the first time since I arrived at his palace I wasn't just a hostage.
I wasn't weak.
I was standing.
And whether Vegas liked it or not I was a force that refused to be broken.
When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was the ceiling.
It wasn't mine.
The unfamiliar carvings, the darker shade of stone, the heavy curtains filtering the light I froze instantly. My breath caught in my chest as my eyes slowly traced the room, my mind scrambling to catch up.
This wasn't my room.
Before I could sit up properly, the door opened.
And there he was.
Vegas.
He stood just inside the doorway, tall and unmoving, his presence alone enough to make the room feel smaller. His expression was blank no concern, no warmth, no relief. Just that same unreadable mask he always wore.
"You're awake," he said flatly.
I stared at him.
I didn't answer.
"You shouldn't have finished that fight if you knew you couldn't handle it," he continued, his tone sharp and controlled.
My fingers curled into the sheets.
Was he scolding me?
Of all people him?
The king who trained his soldiers until they collapsed. The man who believed pain was just another tool.
"They called me weak," I admitted quietly, my voice rough. I turned my gaze away. "No one gets to call me that. So—" I scoffed softly. "Why am I even explaining myself to you?"
As if he'd defend me against his guards.
As if he was my father.
As if he was someone who would protect me simply because I was his.
"My room and Macao's are down the hall," Vegas said after a pause, his voice colder now. "If you need anything, go there. Are you listening?"
I opened my mouth to respond—
The door burst open.
"Pete!"
Khun rushed in like a storm, his face pale and furious, Macao right behind him.
I reacted on instinct, pushing myself upright despite the ache in my body.
Khun crossed the room in seconds and wrapped me in a crushing hug.
"Pete!" he said again, his voice breaking.
"Khun," I whispered, my arms slowly coming up around him.
When he finally pulled back, Macao immediately stepped in and hugged me next, gentler but just as tight.
"Sit down, Phi," Macao scolded softly. "You might collapse again."
I laughed lightly, even though my chest still felt sore, and patted his head.
"I'm fine."
Then—
"Vegas! You bastard!" Khun roared.
I turned just in time to see Arm and Pol grabbing him as he lunged forward, fury blazing in his eyes.
My head throbbed.
I reached out to grab Khun's arm, but the moment my injured hand tightened, pain shot up my arm like fire. I sucked in a sharp breath and immediately let go, forcing my expression to stay neutral.
"Hey. Khun. Stop."
Vegas's voice cut through the room.
Firm. Absolute.
Then to my complete shock-he moved.
He walked toward me.
My body reacted before my mind could. I stepped back instinctively and bumped into Arm.
Vegas stopped directly in front of me.
Too close.
"Are you okay?" he asked quietly.
He took my hand.
I froze.
His touch was steady, warm too real. My heart skipped painfully in my chest.
Why was he standing this close?
Before I could process it, Khun shoved him away and yanked me back toward the bed.
"Now you ask if he's okay?" Khun snapped, fury shaking his voice.
"Khun!" Arm and Pol scolded in unison.
Vegas straightened slowly, his expression darkening.
"He's my wife," he said coldly.
I looked at him.
"A wife is meant to be loved, Vegas," Khun shot back. "How many times do I have to tell you not to treat Pete like your past lovers?"
Past lovers?
I blinked.
Someone actually dated him?
"Shh, Khun," I said quickly, trying to stop things from escalating. "I'm okay."
"Of course you'd say that," Khun muttered, pouting as he pulled me into another hug.
I smiled faintly. "Aww, my hia is really clingy."
"But I'm still here, Phi Pete," Macao cut in, trying to lighten the mood.
"I claimed Pete first!" Khun argued.
"But he's with us now!" Macao shot back.
"But Prince Pete belongs to King Vegas," Pol blurted out nervously.
Everyone turned to stare at him.
"I-I mean-because they're married," he finished quickly.
An awkward silence fell over the room.
I glanced at Arm and gave him a small nod.
"It's getting late, Khun," Arm said gently. "We should return to the palace."
Before leaving, Khun leaned down and kissed my forehead.
"I'll come back tomorrow," he promised softly. "I'll bring everything you like."
They left one by one Macao included.
The room felt emptier without them.
I thought Vegas would leave too.
He didn't.
"I'm going to rest," I said quietly. "Are you staying there?"
He looked at me, his gaze heavy.
"Whether you like me or not," he said slowly, "this is your duty as a prince even without love."
My chest tightened.
"You're asking me to marry my enemy," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Vegas didn't hesitate.
"I'm asking you to save your people."
Then he turned away and walked out, leaving the door closing softly behind him.
And somehow—
That hurt more than if he'd slammed it shut.
Days passed.
I wandered the palace like a lost child, talking to whoever I could whenever Macao wasn't around.
"Wow! This is really good!" I praised Auntie Lie.
She laughed softly. "Prince, everything I give you, you say is delicious. Are you just flattering me?"
I shook my head and called over my new personal guard. "Try it," I said, passing a spoon to him.
He hesitated, unsure. Auntie Lie and I watched him silently.
"Well?" I asked eagerly.
He finally smiled and nodded.
Auntie and I jumped in excitement.
"What's happening here?"
I turned. Nop had arrived-followed by Vegas, who scowled as if he had just caught me doing something unforgivable, and Macao, who looked far too amused.
Everyone bowed automatically.
I didn't.
"Macao! Try this," I said cheerfully, scooping some food with a clean spoon and holding it out to him.
"Did you make it, Phi?" he asked.
I shook my head.
"Auntie did."
"But you helped," Auntie added.
Vegas's dark eyes flicked to me, narrowing. He didn't move, didn't speak, but I felt his attention on me like a weight pressing my chest down.
"Are you sure my brother won't get poisoned?" he muttered, voice low and dangerous.
I raised an eyebrow, tilting the spoon toward him.
"Try it."
"Say ah, King Vegas," I teased, stretching my arm toward him. "My arm's getting tired are you going to eat it or—"
He paused.
Then, slowly, deliberately, he leaned down and took the spoon from me.
I froze.
The room seemed to stop. Even the guards didn't breathe.
The King of Ivalion was eating from my hand.
When he finished, he didn't say anything. His eyes stayed on me dark, unreadable, but softer than usual, like he was approving something only I would notice.
I couldn't help it. I smiled.
"The King is learning manners," I said lightly, giving his shoulder a gentle pat.
Vegas didn't move. Didn't scowl. Didn't correct me. He simply stared, and in that look, I could feel the subtle warning beneath it: Don't let anyone else touch what's mine.
I walked away and sat down, letting Macao follow immediately.
"Phi! You did that to Hia!" he whispered, excitement shaking his voice.
"The shoulder pat?" I asked.
He nodded frantically.
"No one's ever done that. He froze. We all did."
I laughed softly.
"Let your Hia be. I think he's already annoyed with me enough."
Macao shrugged.
"Isn't he eating?"
"He has a meeting later. Probably already ate," I said.
We walked to the library together, chatting quietly.
"When I found out you were marrying Hia," Macao said, "I wanted to go home but I still had to finish my studies in another kingdom."
I stopped walking for a moment, biting the inside of my cheek.
"Macao you know Hia and I don't love each other, right?" I asked quietly.
He nodded slowly.
"It's okay, Phi. As long as it's you. If it were Tawan, I don't know how I'd feel."
"Tawan?" I asked, confused.
"Prince of Ahdaya. You don't know him?"
I shook my head.
"Sorry. I mostly see Khun and people from Lania."
He nodded.
"Tawan was supposed to marry Hia because of an agreement-but everything changed when King Kinn summoned him."
"So what happened?"
"They discovered Ahdaya had dangerous intentions."
"Did Hia love Tawan?" I asked softly.
"No," he answered immediately.
"But Tawan loved Hia."
I winced.
"That's sad."
"Don't worry, Phi. I still vote for you," he said lightly.
"I'm not sad about that!" I protested. "I just feel bad for Tawan!"
He laughed, but then his tone softened. "Phi don't pity people who might hurt you behind your back."
I froze. Definitely siblings.
"Stop being so serious," I muttered. "You sound like your Hia."
"And Tawan only wanted to love. That's not a crime."
"Is there love that hurts, Phi?"
I paused. His words lingered.
"Yes," I admitted softly, almost to myself. "Like when people sacrifice themselves for everyone else. There's pain in knowing this isn't what we want but we accept it anyway. It hurts knowing we may never find the one truly meant for us."
"But Phi," he said gently, "you could still learn to love each other right?"
I didn't answer. I let the silence stretch.
Instead, I pulled a book from the shelf.
"This is the one you were looking for, right?"
Macao smiled, then excused himself.
"I'll leave you for now so you can read properly, Prince."
As soon as the door closed, I exhaled.
Macao's words hit harder than I expected. Could we really learn to love each other? I shook my head, trying to laugh it off.
I wandered through the palace, still deep in thought, until I noticed a figure ahead.
King Porsche.
I broke into a small run toward him.
"Pete," he greeted warmly. "I've been looking for you."
"Looking for me?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly despite my attempt at confidence.
"Why?" His eyes, dark and unreadable, flicked toward me as he grabbed my wrist, his grip firm enough that I couldn't pull away. "The meeting is about to start. You're the only one missing."
I yanked my hand back, startled. "Hey! Why am I included in that?" I protested, taking a step back.
His hand shot out faster than I could blink, flicking my forehead with a sharp pop.
"Ouch! Porsche, I'll tell-"
"Oh yeah? Who are you going to tell?" he teased, voice low, mischievous. "We're far from your palace. King Foe can't save you. Khun isn't here either. That leaves only—" He leaned close, so close I could feel the heat from his chest, "Vegas."
I froze. My heart skipped. My cheeks flamed. "Stop teasing me!" I shouted, but my words sounded smaller than I intended.
He laughed softly, the sound dark, smooth, and confident. "But it's true," he murmured. And just like that, the air around us shifted. Something sharp, possessive, and undeniably heavy pressed against my chest.
I looked down at my hands, trying to steady them. "Why do I even have to be there?"
"Because you're a prince," he said casually, his dark eyes tracking mine. "Soon to be queen."
I swallowed hard. "I don't want that," I muttered, barely audible.
Before I could react, Porsche tugged me along, and we entered the grand court.
We were the last to arrive. Representatives from every kingdom were already seated, murmuring quietly, exchanging notes and wary glances. I felt exposed, out of place-tiny, insignificant. My legs shook beneath me as I tried to settle into my chair next to Vegas.
Porsche gave me a reassuring nod, but my attention was drawn elsewhere.
A hours passed, I glanced at Porsche, who looked equally uncomfortable, eyes darting nervously around the room. I let out a soft, nervous laugh, trying to ease my own tension.
"What's so funny, Prince Pete?" A voice cut through the room, sharp and icy.
I turned. A man was staring directly at me, his eyes sharp, calculating. My stomach knotted.
"Huh?" I stammered.
"I saw you laughing. What's amusing?" he pressed, leaning slightly forward as if trying to intimidate me.
Heat rose to my cheeks. I could feel every gaze in the room burning into me but one in particular froze me in place. Vegas. His eyes, dark and unrelenting, bore into mine, warning anyone who dared challenge me.
Before I could say a word, Porsche jumped in. "Prince Pete is still new to meetings like this. Please excuse him."
I wanted to speak for myself, to say I could handle it, but Vegas's hand brushed lightly over mine. A subtle, almost imperceptible touch, yet it carried a warning: Stay. Silent. I've got this.
"You have no right to speak to my spouse that way, Tawan," Vegas said, his voice cutting through the murmurs like a knife.
My stomach dropped. My eyes widened.
"And none of you are allowed to disrespect my wife," he continued, his gaze sweeping across the room. Cold, sharp, authoritative. "Just because he doesn't yet know how these meetings work doesn't mean he won't learn. Let him grow into his role."
I felt my chest tighten. The room went completely silent, tension coiling in the air like a live wire. My mind whirled with disbelief. Vegas had he had defended me. Publicly. Against someone who could have caused a diplomatic incident.
I blinked, stunned, before blurting out, "I was listening. And honestly, I don't like your plan. It's too obvious."
The words slipped out faster than I could control, sharper than I intended. I could feel eyes flicking to me some confused, some annoyed, some alarmed.
"Why would you allow your subordinates to do that?" I pressed, my voice rising slightly as adrenaline surged through me. "Shouldn't you be the one to face the consequences? You're a prince, yet you don't consider your people's safety. You'd rather let them get hurt just to protect your reputation and you still plan to be king?"
The room froze. Gasps rippled like a wave.
Suddenly, I realized what I'd done. I bowed quickly, head low, my face burning. "My apologies."
"I'll excuse myself," I whispered, trying to escape, my legs shaking beneath me.
As I moved to leave, a cold hand shot out and grabbed my wrist not harshly, but impossibly firm.
"Where do you think you're going?" Vegas's voice was low, dark, almost threatening but beneath it lingered a softness I could feel in the press of his palm, in the way he held me so that no one could.
"I... I—" I stammered.
"You will stay," he said, his eyes locking on mine, dark and possessive. "And you will listen. This is your duty. Your people's safety isn't optional."
The heat in the room, the stares of every representative, the weight of responsibility I felt it all crash into me. And yet, under Vegas's hand, holding me steady, I also felt safe.
My chest heaved. My heart thudded violently. For a brief moment, the world narrowed to him and me dark, protective, possessive. A king claiming his spouse not with violence, but with an unspoken promise: No one touches what's mine.
I swallowed hard, nodding, unable to speak, trembling slightly not from fear of the room, but from the pressure of being held by him.
Vegas's grip loosened only enough to let me breathe, his eyes softening almost imperceptibly. A shadow of something like reassurance flickered in that dark gaze, a quiet warmth under the layers of control.
I realized, as I sat back down, that I could never be entirely independent here not with him watching. And yet for the first time, I felt like I could survive it.
Because Vegas Theerapanyakul was dark, terrifying, and ruthless but he was also mine.
I went straight to Macao's room, my legs barely holding me up.
"Macao!" I burst in and collapsed onto his bed, burying my face in the pillow. My chest heaved.
"Phi, what happened?" he asked immediately, dropping the book in his hands. Panic sharpened his features. "Kay said you were in the meeting what happened?"
I squeezed my eyes shut. "Macao. I just met Tawan."
His expression froze, and the book slipped completely from his hands. "What happened? Did he hurt you?"
"No, I think I hurt him?" I mumbled, my voice small, embarrassed.
"Huh? How?"
"He called me out for laughing quietly," I admitted, my fingers gripping the pillow tighter.
Before Macao could respond, the door opened abruptly and Porsche appeared. The shadows in the room seemed to lighten with his presence, his tall frame blocking the light. He didn't speak at first; he just stood there, brown eyes scanning me like I was something fragile and precious at the same time.
"I didn't even hear you laugh," Porsche said, plopping onto the bed beside me. "But Tawan, who was far away, somehow did."
Macao leaned forward. "And then?"
"Tawan called Pete out, saying we were letting him act that way in a serious meeting," Porsche continued. "But Pete he fired back. And Tawan lost."
I buried my face deeper into the pillow, trying to disappear. My cheeks burned, heart pounding at the memory.
"Do you know what Pete said?" Porsche pressed.
"I wasn't there," Macao joked, trying to lighten the mood.
Porsche flicked my forehead playfully. "Ow! So what did he say?"
I peeked out from the pillow. "'You still plan to be king in that state?'" I mimicked the words, but my voice trembled slightly.
"Whoa! Phi, you're amazing!" Macao clapped, eyes shining.
"And that's not even the best part," Porsche added, leaning in.
"What? What else?" Macao asked eagerly.
Vegas's voice echoed in my memory, low and impossibly dark: "No one is allowed to disrespect my spouse."
Macao froze, the words hanging heavy in the air. "Macao?" I waved my hand, laughing nervously. "You okay?"
Porsche chuckled. "It's genetic insanity."
I couldn't help laughing too, though it was nervous. "Did he really say that?"
"Yes. And Pete he looked like he was about to cry, using those puppy eyes on Vegas," Porsche teased, and I threw a pillow at him.
"That's not true!" I shouted, laughing.
"You were blushing," he said, catching the pillow effortlessly.
I groaned and tried to sit up. "I'm done. Take me with you, Porsche! I can't stay here another second!"
"Not possible," both of them said in unison.
"Why not? I've been stuck here for months!"
Porsche shook his head. "Vegas would get mad."
"No, he wouldn't! He lets me do whatever I want!" I protested, fists clenching in frustration.
"He allows it because you're his spouse and you're safe here," Porsche said gently, eyes soft but firm. "Outside is dangerous. You know that."
My heart thudded. The memory of Vegas's gaze in the meeting returned, cold yet suffocatingly possessive. That dark, unyielding presence of his that somehow made me feel like I could survive anything.
"What about you?" I asked, quieter.
"I'm always with Kinn," he replied. "If you want out, stick with Vegas."
I groaned, slumping back against the bed. "I can't escape him, can I?"
"You can't."
"Prince?"
"Prince?"
"PRINCE!"
I jolted upright, breath hitching as my chest tightened.
"Hm?" I muttered, still half-lost in sleep.
"King Vegas is summoning you to his chambers."
That sentence sliced clean through the fog in my head.
"What?" I sat up fully. "Why?"
"I apologize, Prince. I wasn't informed."
My fingers curled into the sheets. A bad feeling crawled up my spine.
I washed my face, fixed my clothes with shaking hands, and headed straight for Vegas's chambers.
The moment I stepped inside, the air felt heavy-thick with something sharp and suffocating.
Vegas was already there.
Standing.
Waiting.
Arms crossed. Jaw tight. Eyes dark and unreadable, locked onto me like I was prey that had wandered too far.
"If you called me here just to lecture me," I said coldly, "I'll save you the effort and leave."
Silence.
Not even a blink.
I scoffed and turned toward the door.
That was when his hand shot out.
Strong fingers wrapped around my wrist, iron tight.
I gasped and spun back, eyes flashing.
"Let go of me."
His grip didn't tighten-but it didn't loosen either.
"You shouldn't have spoken earlier," he said, voice low and controlled. Dangerous in its calm.
I yanked my hand free, anger bursting like fire in my chest.
"Shouldn't have spoken?" I snapped. "They were tearing me apart right in front of you! What was I supposed to do smile?"
He stepped closer.
Too close.
"You are my spouse," he said quietly. "Every word you say reflects on this kingdom."
"Oh, so now I'm just your image?" I laughed bitterly. "Funny. I thought I was your partner."
His eyes flickered.
Just for a second.
"You embarrassed me," he said.
That hurt more than I expected.
"And you embarrassed me," I shot back. "You stood there and let them treat me like I was nothing."
"I handled it," he replied sharply.
"No," I said. "You handled Tawan."
That did it.
The temperature in the room dropped.
Vegas's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking near his temple.
"You are not weak," he said slowly, dangerously. "But you are reckless. And I will not let anyone anyone turn you into a target."
"Then why did it feel like you were protecting him instead of me?" My voice cracked despite myself. "Your precious ex."
His eyes darkened, something possessive and furious flickering beneath the surface.
"Do not say his name like that."
"Oh, I'm sorry," I sneered. "Did I offend him?"
He grabbed the edge of the table behind him, knuckles whitening.
"You belong here," he said, voice rougher now. "With me."
I laughed, sharp and humorless.
"Funny," I said. "Because right now, I've never felt more alone."
For a moment, it looked like he wanted to say something.
Then his face hardened again.
"Leave," he said.
I didn't hesitate.
I turned and walked out before he could see the tears burning in my eyes.
Straight back to my room.
That man was infuriating.
And worse—
He hurt me.
"Kay," I said sharply the moment I entered, "tell my father I'm going home."
"R-right now, Prince?" Kay stammered. "But it's quite—"
"Now."
"But we must inform His Majesty—"
"What are you talking about?" I snapped. "I'm the prince. You answer to me. Not your ugly beloved king."
"Ugly?"
I froze.
"Macao!" I spun around. "Tell your brother I'm leaving. Right now."
Macao's eyes widened instantly.
"Huh?! Why? What happened, Phi?!"
"Your amazing brother defended Tawan instead of me," I said, pointing at my chest. "His own spouse."
Macao frowned.
"But Phi Porsche said Hia defended you."
"He defended me for appearance," I shot back. "Not because he believed in me."
"Prince, please calm down," Macao said gently, admitting concern into his voice. "You're breathing too fast. You might trigger your asthma."
I didn't answer.
I just sat down hard on the edge of the bed, shoulders shaking.
"Kay, you may leave," Macao said quietly.
Kay bowed and slipped out.
The moment the door closed, Macao wrapped his arms around me.
I leaned into him, the anger finally cracking open into something raw and aching.
"He's scary," I whispered. "And cold. And he doesn't listen."
Macao sighed softly.
"I know Hia," he said. "He scolded you because he was afraid. Afraid they'd hurt you."
That was enough.
Tears spilled down my face, hot and silent.
Macao wiped them away, staying with me until exhaustion dragged me back into sleep.
Later, downstairs, laughter and voices filled the dining hall.
That's when I saw Khun and Tawan talking.
"What did you do, you witch—"
"Khun!" I grabbed his arm instantly. "The food here is amazing. Come on!"
Arm helped pull Khun away before chaos could erupt.
"Pete! Macao!" Khun demanded. "Why is he here?"
"No idea," Macao and I answered together.
"And why are your eyes swollen?" Khun narrowed his eyes.
"Khun, eat," Pol said through a mouthful. "It's good."
I smiled sweetly at Pol.
"Right?"
He nodded eagerly.
"Pete, stop dodging," Khun snapped.
I inhaled slowly.
"Khun," I said softly, "I asked Porsche to take me home. He refused. Can I go with you instead?"
I pouted just a little.
Khun's face lit up.
"Of course! Movie night!"
"Khun, no," Arm scolded. "You'll kidnap him. He needs the king's permission."
Macao tugged my sleeve.
"Phi are you leaving me?"
"Never," I said immediately. "You're coming with me. We're just leaving your brother behind."
"But King Vegas will be angry," Pol whispered. "He's terrifying when he's mad. Like a dragon."
We laughed quietly.
"But we still have to inform him," Macao added.
I smiled, calm and dangerous.
"It's fine," I said.
"Khun will handle it."
And just like that—
With sunshine in my smile, chaos in my heart, and a cold king about to realize
that the one thing he tried to control
was already slipping through his fingers.
"No."
That was Vegas's answer to Khun after he explained our request.
Khun turned sharply, eyes blazing.
"And why not?"
The heaviness in my chest tightened. Every word from Vegas felt like a wall pressing against me.
"You're making Pete cry in this palace!" Khun snapped. "Do you think I wouldn't hear about how you defended Tawan instead of your own spouse, Vegas?"
Vegas's gaze slid toward me not warm, not angry-just intense. His presence pressed against me like a storm ready to break.
"I didn't defend him," he said quietly, but each word cut through the room. "I warned him about the whispers. The judgments. The people from other kingdoms who would take pleasure in seeing you humiliated."
My chest tightened. "Hey! He started it, not me!" I blurted, my voice shaky but loud.
I glanced at Khun, silently begging for help.
"So the price for that is letting him staying here?"
We froze, caught between frustration and uncertainty.
Vegas's eyes never left mine. Cold, possessive, unyielding but soft beneath the surface.
"He insisted his stay. Not me."
"You agreed to it, Hia?" Macao said sharply.
"That's enough," Vegas's voice cut through the air, low and commanding. "Go home. You two meet me later in my room. We need to talk."
"But—"
"Arm, Pol," Vegas added, his tone razor-sharp, "escort your noisy pet back to your palace. I already have two troublesome ones here. I don't need another."
Khun didn't get a chance to argue. Arm and Pol pulled him away. I swallowed hard, feeling the mix of relief and frustration, and followed Macao outside.
The garden was quiet. A breeze ruffled the flowers, and the tension from earlier clung to me like a shadow.
Someone was there. Waiting.
Tawan.
"Prince," he greeted politely, bowing. "I'm sorry for targeting you yesterday."
I nodded, voice tight.
"I'm sorry too."
He offered a small box. Chocolate. My eyebrows raised. Vegas liked chocolate?
"Could you give this to King Vegas for me?" Tawan said. His tone was careful. "We argued earlier this used to be his favorite when we were together. If I give it myself, we'd just fight again. I'm leaving tonight please, tell him."
He placed the box in my palm. It felt heavy not just from the chocolate, but from the weight of unspoken emotions.
That night, after changing into my sleepwear, I went to Macao's room but he wasn't there. My steps faltered.
Instead, I found Vegas.
He was sitting on the bed, body tense but relaxed in a paradoxical way, eyes flicking to me the moment I entered.
"Phi Pete, you're here," Macao's voice rang cheerfully from the corner. "Come on, let's start!"
We formed a circle. I could feel Vegas's gaze on me, dark and possessive, following every movement I made.
"The game is called Midnight Decree," Macao announced proudly.
I pointed at Vegas. "You go first."
He didn't resist.
Macao's questions came. I answered, we laughed but every now and then, I caught Vegas's subtle gestures: a hand brushing near mine, a lingering look, the smallest tilt of his head.
"I would," he said calmly when asked if he'd destroy me if we weren't forced together.
I froze. That calm, measured answer carried danger, but also something else a protective edge, like he wanted me safe even if it hurt him.
"You're awful," I muttered softly.
He smiled then. Not cruel, not soft just a fleeting, almost intimate curl of his lips. I hadn't seen him smile like that for anyone but me.
"Follow-up," I said, feeling bold. "Who holds more power publicly and privately?"
"Obviously me," Vegas answered without hesitation.
I caught his gaze, a spark of something possessive and intimate hiding behind his cold mask.
Macao blinked. "False. Publicly-Hia. Privately-Phi Pete."
I nodded, heart racing. He didn't protest, only gave me a slow, dark glance, as if warning me silently that he owned more of me than anyone could see.
When the chocolate box fell onto the bed, I froze for a second.
"Oh! Right!" I tossed it to him. "This is for you from Tawan."
He looked at me, eyes dark, almost unreadable. Then, softly softer than I expected he handed it to Macao.
"I don't like chocolate. You take it."
Even his refusal felt possessive, like he wanted the chocolate and maybe the gesture to stay away from me, but safe in his control.
Macao opened it immediately. I grabbed a piece for myself. Sweet, warm, but beneath it, the tension between Vegas and me simmered, unspoken and alive.
Vegas shifted slightly closer, shadowing me, just enough for me to feel his presence dark, protective, quietly demanding.
And somehow, I knew that tonight, I wasn't just eating chocolate or playing a game. I was walking on the edge of his possessive care, and I loved the danger of it.
"You want to try?" I asked, teasing lightly. "It's safe. Tawan probably won't poison you."
I held a piece of chocolate toward him, expecting him to just bite it and shrug.
Instead, Vegas took it from my hand, his fingers brushing mine.
I froze for a moment, heart thudding.
Fine.
I opened another piece and ate quietly, stealing glances at him.
While we sat in silence, a sudden thought struck me.
"Vegas?" I asked softly. "Are you okay? Your face it's red. Are you allergic?"
Macao froze mid chew, eyes widening.
"Hia—this has peanuts!" His panic was instantaneous.
"Do you have medicine?" he asked urgently, rushing to a drawer—
Only to reveal condoms.
I slammed the drawer shut, my heart skipping. Macao cursed softly under his breath, then moved to the next drawer.
Finally, he found the medicine case and handed it to Vegas.
Without hesitation, Vegas swallowed the allergy medicine, his jaw tight, eyes fixed on me.
I blinked. And that's when I noticed it he had already finished the piece of chocolate I had bitten earlier.
A shiver ran down my spine. He didn't complain. He didn't say a word. He just obeyed.
I watched Macao quietly hide the remaining chocolates and rush into the bathroom.
"Don't scratch," I whispered softly, brushing a lock of hair off his reddened forehead. "You'll hurt yourself."
Vegas closed his eyes at my touch, leaning slightly into my fingers. His breathing was steady, but his chest still rose and fell a little too fast.
I stared at him. Red, flushed, vulnerable but still his impossible, terrifying king.
When Macao returned, holding a towel, he paused and looked between us with a sly grin.
I hesitated, then turned back to Vegas. Carefully, I pressed the towel against his forehead.
He didn't pull away.
"Hey are you okay?" I asked softly. "You still ate it, even though it was making you react."
His eyes flicked to mine dark, intense, and possessive. "You fed it to me," he said quietly, almost too low for anyone else to hear. "You knew. And I.. I couldn't let it go to waste."
My stomach tightened. That tone soft, but edged with possessiveness made my heart hammer.
Macao glanced between us, concern and mischief warring in his expression.
"Phi should I call Phi Nop to watch over Hia?"
I opened my mouth to answer hesitated and Macao added casually,
"Or you could stay instead. You're married anyway, right?"
My gaze flicked to Vegas, lying there, breathing evenly now, chest rising beneath the blanket. If I left him alone and something happened, wouldn't it be my fault? My hand itched to stay close, to make sure he was safe.
"Phi Pete?" Macao waved a hand in front of my face, snapping me back to reality.
"F-fine," I stammered, my voice firmer than I felt. "I'm at fault too."
"You didn't do anything wrong," Macao said gently. "We didn't know it had peanuts."
Then he leaned closer, whispering dramatically:
"By the authority of the crown this may be fate. And as a historian, this is how history will remember it."
I stared at him, too stunned to respond.
Macao left quietly, leaving me alone with Vegas.
And the moment the door clicked shut, Vegas's hand twitched toward mine. Just barely but enough that I noticed.
"Stay," he murmured, voice low and rough. "Don't leave."
My chest tightened. The possessiveness in his tone wasn't harsh it wasn't violent it was all encompassing, dark but protective.
I didn't move.
"Good," he said, eyes softening slightly, almost vulnerable now. "You make me reckless."
I swallowed, heart racing. The thought that he trusted me enough to show me this side of him dark, possessive, soft all at once made everything in me ache.
I shifted closer, careful, brushing my hand against his.
"I'm not going anywhere," I whispered.
Vegas's lips twitched a shadow of a smile. He didn't speak, but the way he leaned back against the pillow, letting me be there, said more than words ever could.
For the first time that night, the palace didn't feel cold. It felt ours.
I glanced at the couch then back at Vegas, now asleep.
I stayed beside him for nearly two hours, hands twitching, making sure his breathing stayed steady. Every shallow exhale, every faint twitch in his fingers, made my chest pound.
Only when I felt certain he was truly asleep did I carefully slip off the bed and move toward the couch. My legs were stiff, my heart still hammering, but I finally let myself collapse, sinking into the cushions.
"Hia? Phi?"
Someone was calling me.
I opened my eyes to see Macao standing there, flanked by Nop and Kay, their expressions a mixture of worry and expectation.
I scrambled upright but an arm wrapped around my waist, holding me in place.
I froze.
I looked down.
Vegas's hand.
My eyes went wide. My chest raced. Panic surged, and I kicked reflexively.
He toppled off the bed with a soft thud.
"Your Majesty!" Nop and Kay shouted, rushing to help him up.
"I-I'm sorry!" I whispered frantically, my hands flying up.
That's when reality hit me.
I wasn't on the couch.
I was on the bed.
The pillows I'd placed on the couch were still there.
He moved me.
I froze, staring at him as he slowly got up, brushing himself off. His gaze flicked to me dark, almost dangerous but softened slightly when our eyes met.
I felt Macao laughing softly behind me.
"Good thing Doctor Top is here," he said teasingly. "To check your allergy and see if you broke anything after getting kicked by your spouse."
I buried my face in my hands, cheeks burning.
Days passed, and life slowly returned to its routine.
I visited Auntie nearly every day and avoided Vegas whenever possible, afraid he might blame me or worse, decide I had to "pay" for my mistake.
"Prince," Auntie asked gently one day, her voice laced with worry, "how is His Majesty?"
"He's fine," I said honestly, forcing a casual tone.
"Is it true you gave him chocolate with peanuts in it?" she asked softly.
I nodded, my stomach twisting.
"But I was only asked to pass it to him," I explained quickly, cheeks hot.
"I believe you, Prince," she said warmly, handing me an ice cream.
I laughed awkwardly, taking it and biting into it as if nothing had happened but every bite reminded me of him, red faced, silent, and impossibly Hia.
"Prince."
I turned, and Nop stood there.
"His Majesty is waiting for you in his chamber."
I froze. My stomach flipped. Why?
Still, I followed him, every step heavy with nervous anticipation.
Vegas was standing in his chamber, already dressed, tall and composed as ever. His black attire seemed to absorb all the light, making him look untouchable.
"Hey are you okay now?" I asked softly, worry tugging at my chest.
"Hm," he replied shortly, eyes flicking to me and back to some distant point I couldn't see.
Then he tossed a purple and white outfit at me.
"Represent your palace," he said, adjusting the folds of his black clothes as though I wasn't even there.
"Where are we going?" I asked, trying to sound casual, though my voice trembled slightly.
"You ask too many questions. Go."
I pouted, muttering, but left his room to get ready.
It took me nearly an hour to finish hair, makeup, jewelry, every detail he had picked. My hands shook slightly, my heart pounding as I stepped out.
Vegas didn't speak. He didn't glance at me. He just grabbed my hand, his fingers firm and possessive, guiding me like I was part of him.
We reached the car. He let me get in first and that's when I noticed the convoy of vehicles behind us, loaded with luggage.
"Why is there luggage?" I asked, frozen. "Is this overnight?"
He gave a single, dark glance at me.
"Yes."
"But I didn't bring any clothes!" I protested, shaking him slightly.
He exhaled slowly, that calm but possessive tone I'd come to recognize.
"Clothes are prepared. Do you think I'd let you go without?"
I pressed back against the seat, swallowing. His eyes met mine, sharp and commanding, yet soft in a way that made my chest tighten.
"I had everything arranged. You were busy eating."
I shivered slightly under his gaze, suddenly aware of how much control he had over me. Yet it wasn't cruel control. It was protective, dark, and possessive in a way that made me want to trust him completely.
I asked quietly, still trying to catch a sense of where we were going.
"So where are we going?"
He didn't answer immediately. His hand squeezed mine, just enough to remind me I wasn't going anywhere without him.
"Pete," he said, finally. Dark, low, and commanding.
"I said I'd stop asking," I muttered, cheeks hot.
His thumb brushed over my knuckles, a soft, possessive gesture that made my stomach twist.
"That's wise," he said softly, voice rougher than usual, almost intimate. "Stay quiet, and stay close."
I nodded, heart pounding. My pulse raced, and I realized something. Being with him even when he was this dark, commanding, and unknowable felt safe. Somehow, impossibly, it felt safe.
By the time we arrived at the palace, night had already draped the sky in a velvet cloak. Lanterns flickered, casting long shadows over the sprawling entrance.
Vegas stepped out first and held out his hand. I hesitated for only a second before he helped me down.
The moment we entered, it felt like every pair of eyes in the room locked onto us. My chest tightened. Every whispered conversation seemed to quiet.
We walked down a blue carpet that led straight to the main hall. The room was full, glittering with nobles in elaborate attire, their gazes flicking between me and Vegas.
His hand rested firmly on my waist, almost possessively, as if he was marking me for anyone who might think to look too long.
"No matter what happens," he murmured, voice low and serious, close enough that only I could hear,
"you stay beside me. Do you understand?"
I looked up. Our eyes met.
I nodded slowly. "Yes," I said softly.
"As if I have a choice. I don't know anyone here."
He didn't respond. His eyes scanned the crowd, sharp and watchful, as though he could sense a threat in every shadow.
We continued walking.
"Vegas?" I called gently.
He glanced at me, eyes narrowing slightly.
"Is Khun not here?" I asked.
He shook his head.
"They said lunatics aren't invited."
I smacked his chest lightly. "That's your cousin!"
He didn't flinch. Instead, he continued speaking calmly.
"You know Tawan, right?"
I nodded.
"We were supposed to get married. Their kingdom is strong but this is the place where he was caught supporting questionable alliances."
I blinked. His tone was calm, but the edge in his voice made my stomach twist.
He continued, explaining Tawan's betrayal, the Northern faction, and how he was helping strengthen the weak kingdom.
I listened carefully. Despite his darkness, I realized he could also be careful, intelligent, and even considerate when needed.
"That's why you're invited?" I asked softly.
"Not just me," he replied. "Us."
The host bowed deeply as we entered the main hall.
"King Vegas and future Queen Prince Pete, I am honored by your presence."
"So are we," I replied with a smile.
"It's true," the king continued warmly. "King Vegas is extremely fortunate to have Prince Pete not only beautiful, but kind-hearted."
My face immediately heated. I stole a glance at Vegas.
Poker face. Of course.
"Please," the king said, "let me escort you to your seats."
Wine was served. I reached for my glass but Vegas's hand shot out, stopping me.
"No."
Firm. Absolute.
"But you're drinking yours!" I protested. "And I can't?"
"It's strong," he said flatly.
"One sip," I begged.
He didn't answer immediately, just watched me, his eyes dark, unreadable.
"Whatever," he muttered, stepping aside.
I drank it quickly. Warm, bitter, and surprisingly good.
"Wow this is nice. Can I have another?"
"Enough with the pout, Pete," he said flatly, voice sharp now. "It won't work. I don't want to babysit a drunk child."
"I'm not a child!" I snapped.
"Then stop acting like one," he replied coolly. The way he said it, it made my stomach tighten. Commanding, possessive, but protective all at once.
I sulked.
Hours passed with speeches I barely understood. I clapped late, laughed awkwardly, and tried to follow protocols I didn't know.
And the worst part? Hunger gnawed at me.
"Vegas," I whispered softly.
"Hm?" he answered, eyes still scanning the hall.
"Vegas," I tried again.
Nothing.
"Theerapanyakul," I said clearly, just to get his attention.
Finally, he turned his head. I grinned at his reaction.
"What's wrong with you?" I asked. "Is this still going to take long? Because, you know,"
"Because what?" he asked, brow furrowed.
"I'm hungry," I whispered. Then, stepping back slightly, I added softly, "I just can't wait any longer."
"What? I can't hear you. Speak louder."
I leaned closer, almost under his nose. "I'm hungry."
He stared at me for a long moment, dark eyes flashing.
"You're really strange," he said, soft laughter breaking through his usual stoicism.
I nudged him gently with my shoulder. "Stop teasing me. We've been here for hours, and I still haven't eaten."
His laugh grew louder. That low, rich sound that always made my stomach twist.
He raised his hand as if to call someone but I stopped him.
"Never mind," I said shyly.
He frowned. "You're confusing. You say you're hungry, but when I try to take care of it you stop me."
I shook my head. "It just feels too important. Like I'd be cutting in line or something."
"Pete," he said softly, but his voice was low and dangerous, dark like a shadow moving through candlelight,
"You're not foolish enough to forget that I am the highest ranking king in the entire South. So why are you scared?"
"Hey, stop being so arrogant!" I snapped, cheeks burning.
After that, neither of us spoke, though we sat side by side, the tension buzzing between us.
When the ceremony ended, food was placed in front of me. My eyes lit up immediately.
"Thank you," I said happily.
"You're welcome, Prince Pete," the servant replied.
While I ate, Vegas asked permission to step away, apparently to speak with officials. I nodded, trusting him but my eyes kept darting toward the doorway, counting down the minutes until he returned.
Once I finished eating, I glanced around, searching. His presence always grounded me but now, without it, the room felt cold and endless.
"He's really going to get it from me later," I muttered under my breath.
"It seems the King of Ivalion has truly fallen for the beautiful Prince of Hayraia."
I turned toward the voice.
A young man bowed when he noticed me looking. He couldn’t have been much older than Macao.
He approached slowly.
"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Prince Pete. I'm Prum, the third prince of this palace."
I smiled politely.
"Nice to meet you, Prum."
Even as I spoke, my eyes instinctively searched for the missing king.
"While your king is away," Prum said gently, "may I ask you for a dance?"
A dance?
"I don't know how to dance," I admitted, hesitating.
He extended his hand.
"I would be honored to teach you."
Vegas had told me not to leave my seat but now he was the one who had disappeared.
I glanced at Prince Prum again then slowly placed my hand in his.
He guided me to the center of the dance floor. His hand settled lightly on my waist, making me flinch slightly, and he placed my hand on his shoulder.
The music swelled, a rich, lilting tune that seemed to wrap the crowd in its rhythm. Many people were dancing, but it felt like the room had shrunk to just the two of us.
"That's it, Prince Pete," Prum encouraged. "You're doing just fine. No teaching needed."
I smiled, feeling the warmth of his guidance. For the first time that night, I felt a bit at ease.
After a few minutes, I was moving more naturally.
"Prince," Prum said carefully, "King Vegas won't be angry that I was the first to dance with you, will he?"
I paused.
"He's not even here," I replied. That made Prum laugh softly.
"If he does get angry," Prum asked teasingly, "will you protect me?"
"Of course," I said easily. "It's just Vegas."
He laughed harder, shaking his head. "But to others, Prince Pete, it's not 'just Vegas.' The King of Ivalion is feared and admired for a reason."
I went quiet. He wasn’t wrong. Vegas was terrifying powerful, dark, impossible to read.
"I'll protect you," I assured him sincerely. "I promise. If he gets angry, you're safe with me."
We were laughing lightly when Prum suddenly froze.
I followed his gaze.
Vegas.
He stood there like a shadow, tall and unyielding, black coat sweeping over polished shoes. His presence pulled the air out of the room, a dark gravity that everyone else seemed to feel without realizing why.
Prum immediately released me. I did too, my pulse spiking.
Vegas wasn’t looking at me. His eyes—cold, sharp, and impossibly focused—were locked on Prum.
If looks could kill, Prum would already be gone.
I stepped closer, heart pounding. My hand shot out and grabbed Vegas’s arm.
Instantly, his hand snapped to my waist, pulling me flush against him, spine pressed to chest, his grip firm but controlled. He didn’t break his stare with Prum not even a fraction.
"Hey," I whispered urgently, trying to calm him, "don’t scare him."
His gaze flicked briefly toward me, softer this time, just enough for me to see the possessive heat simmering underneath the cold exterior. His jaw tensed, lips pressing into a thin line.
"Didn't I tell you," he said, voice low and dangerous, "not to leave your seat?"
"I… I didn’t know," I stammered, cheeks burning.
He tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes softening, just enough that I felt the familiar pull of safety under his shadow of control.
"Pete," he murmured quietly, almost for me alone, "you belong here. With me. Not anyone else."
My heart lurched. His grip tightened subtly at my waist, not painfully, but in that way that made my chest ache with the need to stay right where he wanted me.
I swallowed, words caught in my throat, but the heat in his gaze made it impossible to look anywhere else.
Prum coughed nervously and stepped back, sensing the tension. I felt Vegas’s hand hover protectively over my back, a silent warning to anyone who might step too close.
I clenched my fists, heart racing. There was fear, yes but also a strange, thrilling warmth in being claimed so completely, even in the midst of a crowd.
“Sorry,” I muttered, apologizing. “It took so long and he invited me to dance. I couldn’t really say no.”
I glanced around nervously. Half the room’s attention seemed fixed on us. Reflexively, I edged closer to Vegas, trying to hide behind him.
“I didn’t mean to make you angry, King Vegas. In fact, I was the one who insisted Prince Pete join him—"
“Thank you for taking my wife while I was away, Prince,” Vegas interrupted, his voice calm but edged with authority. “But now that I’m here, you can step aside. Let me dance with my wife.”
Before I could respond, he grabbed my hand and pulled me firmly into the center of the dance floor. My heart skipped. The moment his hand landed on my waist, pulling me close, the noise of the crowd faded into a distant hum. Every eye in the room seemed to shrink away except for his, focused only on me.
I placed my hands lightly on his shoulders. He pulled me even closer, chest pressing against mine. I could feel the heat of him through the fabric, his strength keeping me pinned just enough to remind me: I was his.
“Jealous, are you, my king?” I teased, leaning in slightly, trying to provoke him.
“Pete Theerapanyakul,” he said, low and dangerous, spinning me so I faced him fully. His grip on my waist tightened. “I’m not in the mood for games.”
“Could it be,” I dared, my voice light but teasing, “that the fearsome King of Ivalion is jealous over someone barely older than his youngest sibling?”
His dark eyes flared, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. “Did you see how they looked at you?” he said suddenly, voice low but sharp. “The way he put his hand on your waist as if he could claim you? As if anyone else could even touch what’s mine?”
I froze under his gaze. His voice carried weight, ownership—each word echoing like a claim over me.
“They all want you, Pete. I know it,” he murmured, his lips brushing just past my ear. “Maybe I should thank Kinn for introducing you to me. Because now they don’t just fear me they envy me. Envy that I have you, and they don’t.”
The heat of his body pressed closer. His hand stayed firm on my waist, thumb brushing subtly against me, asserting possession. I could barely breathe, a swirl of panic, excitement, and something tender crawling through my chest.
The music slowed, yet Vegas didn’t release me. Instead, he guided me with a gentle yet unyielding pressure, leading me with perfect control. Every step, every turn, reminded me of his dominance but his fingers were soft enough to leave me wanting more, craving his nearness.
I whispered nervously, “I—” but he silenced me with a glance, dark and sharp, yet softened just enough by the warmth behind his eyes.
“Do not speak,” he murmured, voice low, nearly a growl. “I will take care of you. Only me.”
I felt my knees weaken slightly under him, heat rising in my chest as the crowd continued to murmur around us. But it was like we were alone like no one else existed.
A few minutes later, the dance ended. Vegas refused every other request from people wanting to dance with me. Even as the music faded, his hand lingered possessively on my waist, guiding me through the crowd like a shadow that no one could penetrate.
Finally, he led me toward the private room we’d designated to rest. Every step was slow, deliberate. His dark eyes scanned the crowd, daring anyone to come near, while my heartbeat raced in tandem with his silent warning: I was his.
Once inside, he pulled me close again, forehead resting lightly against mine. “You’re mine, Pete. Everyone sees it now. Don’t ever forget it,” he whispered softly, yet the possessiveness in his voice made my chest tighten.
I could only nod, speechless, swallowed by the mixture of fear, admiration, and an aching warmth for the man who was both terrifying and, soft for me.
I immediately rushed into my room, slamming the door behind me and leaving him standing outside in front of his own door. I collapsed onto the bed, inhaling the sharp, intoxicating scent lingering in the room. My chest tightened as I froze for a moment, overwhelmed by it, but forced myself to ignore it and went to the bathroom to shower and calm myself.
Even in the bathroom, the scent clung to the walls, wrapping around me like a shadow. It had disappeared in the main hall and the crowded hallways, but here, in the quiet solitude, it was all-consuming. My hands shook slightly as I tried to wash it away, but no amount of water could erase the feeling it left my heartbeat racing, my chest tightening with every breath.
I hurried through my shower, desperate to fall asleep, but the moment I tried to relax, my chest tightened further. My breaths became shallow, uneven. Panic crept in. I clutched my nose, trying to force myself to breathe only through my mouth, thinking it would help but it didn’t. My vision blurred slightly, and a wave of dizziness hit me as weakness spread through my body.
I paused, fear flashing through me. Should I call Vegas? But we haven’t spoken since he dragged me back earlier in the hall My mind raced. The thought of telling him made me hesitate yet I could barely breathe. Seconds felt like hours as I struggled, trembling all over.
Finally, I forced myself upright, my body quivering uncontrollably. I staggered toward his door, each step a battle, and pressed myself against it, trying to steady my breath.
I pressed myself against Vegas’s door, fists shaking as I pounded weakly. “V‑Vegas…” My voice cracked. My body swayed, almost collapsing.
The door swung open, and suddenly he was there. Just there.
His arms moved like lightning, catching me before I fell. One hand gripped my waist, pulling me flush against him; the other pressed against my back, steadying me. His presence was overwhelming commanding, protective, possessive. I felt his heartbeat through his chest, pounding in sync with mine.
“What’s happening? Are you okay?” His voice was rough, urgent, full of something deeper than concern.
“Pete? Are you having an asthma attack?” His grip tightened slightly, but not painfully just enough to keep me anchored.
I couldn’t speak. My chest burned, and tears blurred my vision. All I could do was nod weakly, shivering.
“Stay awake,” he ordered, his voice low, shaking with a rare edge of fear. “Pete, listen to me. Focus on me. On my voice.”
I blinked, trying to breathe through my mouth, but it wasn’t enough. My arms felt heavy, my legs weaker with every tremor. I was sinking, and he wouldn’t let me.
“Sshh,” he murmured, pressing his forehead lightly to mine. “You’re not going anywhere. Not while I’m here.”
I felt his hand move to hold mine, thumb brushing back and forth, grounding me, keeping me tethered to reality. His other hand tightened on my waist, pulling me impossibly closer, like he was claiming me against everything suffocating me.
“Pete stay with me. Look at me. Don’t close your eyes,” he said, voice breaking, jagged with worry. “I’m calling the doctor. You’re going to be fine. You hear me? Fine.”
I tried to nod again, but my body shook violently, chest heaving. My lips quivered, and tears streamed freely now.
“Don’t you dare pass out,” he whispered fiercely, voice low but sharp, possessive. “Not on me. Not now. Not ever.”
He shifted me carefully, lowering me to the floor so I could sit safely, still pressed against him. His hands never left me one supporting my back, one gripping my arm. He breathed shallowly, controlled, keeping me steady.
I heard his hurried steps leave briefly, the faint click of the telephone in his hands, but I felt him stay, looming protectively behind me. The darkness of the hallway pressed in, but Vegas’s presence was a shield, unyielding, grounding me.
Every shallow breath I took was mirrored by him, every tremor in my body reflected in the tension in his muscles. His dark gaze, even when not directly on me, radiated an almost dangerous possessiveness like anyone who tried to touch me now would have to face him.
I wanted to tell him I was okay. I wanted to tell him I could handle it. But I couldn’t. My body was mine no longer it belonged to panic, to fear, to him holding me together.
And somehow, that made me feel both terrified and inexplicably safe.