My breath caught. So easily? It couldn’t be. There must be something.
“But…” He leaned forward, eyes dark and intense. “I want something in return.”
Of course. There were always strings—territory, power, dominance.
“What do you want?” My voice stayed firm.
Marcellus tapped one finger against the table, the only sign of tension. Sunlight filtered in through enchanted glass, casting sharp shadows along his jaw.
“Well?” I pressed. “What’s your price?”
A slow smile curved his lips, “I won’t ask for much. Fall in love with me.”
“What?” The word burst from me. My glass trembled in my hand.
“You heard me.” His gaze held mine. Steady. Fierce. “I want your real love, Isolde. Not just a pact between packs.”
My mind reeled. Of all the demands—a territory claim, sovereignty rights, blood-oaths—this wasn’t even close.
“I don’t understand,” I whispered. “You could ask for anything. Why this?”
“Because I know you’ve settled for someone you didn’t deserve.” He reached across the table, stilling my fidgeting hand.
Warm. Certain.
“You can’t order someone to fall in love. Love doesn’t work like that.” I breathed.
“I’m not asking for instant devotion.”