The Unchosen Alpha, the Self-Crowned Queen Chapter 11

The Unchosen Alpha, the Self-Crowned Queen Chapter 11

Lucien’s expression went still for about five seconds.

Then slowly, uncertainly, “You?”

“Blackwood Pack’s princess. Evander’s daughter. Maeve. The one your family arranged for you to marry. That’s me.”

He steadied himself against the counter, then let out a short laugh-not humor, just pure absurdity

reflex.

“So I ran all the way across the world-straight into the one person I was trying to avoid.”

We stood facing each other, a dishwasher between us. The hum of the kitchen light was the only

sound.

He broke first. “So if we’d both just stayed put, we would’ve met at some formal dinner our parents

set up. You would’ve been in some dress you hated, I would’ve been in a tie I couldn’t breathe in, and we would’ve smiled through the whole thing like it was fine.”

I didn’t deny it. That champagne gold dress was still folded in the bottom of my closet.

He stepped closer. “Maeve. Let me ask you something.”

“Go ahead.”

“Right now-are you standing here because you’re Blackwood Pack’s princess? Or because you’re

you?”

“I’m me.”

“Then so am I.”

He pulled me in. Chin against my head.

“To hell with the mating alliance. I love who you are now-not the name on that contract.”

I closed my eyes. In his arms, that familiar citrus scent mixed with the lingering spice-smoke from

the kitchen.

Maybe the least romantic confession addendum in history.

But it was enough.

That spring, Lucien asked if I’d go back north with him.

“Maeve. I need you.”

“Where?”

“The Northern Territories.”

I thought about it all night. He lay beside me, awake.

“Whatever you decide. I’ll be there.”

“You’re not worried about running into your family?”

“I’ve been gone five years. I’ll have to face them eventually.” He turned toward me. “Besides if can’t handle that, how am I supposed to be worthy of the most badass executive in the North?”

I laughed. “Flattery.”

“Fact.”

The day before we left, Elias saw me off at the airport. Same old coat, holding a bag.

“Spiced beef stew. Eat it on the plane.” He shoved it into my hands, clapped my shoulder. “Your sister’s run the Pack into the ground. Your mother’s been scrambling to find you. If you run into

them, don’t be soft. But don’t be too hard either.”

He said all that without looking back, then turned and walked away.

I stood at the security checkpoint for a minute, then pulled my suitcase toward the gate.

Lucien was waiting at the boarding counter with two cups-an Americano for me and… a hot chocolate with chili powder. He’d been experimenting.

“You sure this is drinkable?”

“Try it.”

I took a sip. Surprisingly okay-the heat and the cocoa bitterness clashing in a weirdly satisfying

way.

“It’s not bad.”

“Then it’s our drink.”

He clinked his cup against mine.

As the plane took off, Blackridge receded in the morning light. Five years ago, this city gave me a second life. Now I was going back to where I started-with everything I’d earned.