His fists were pounding against the railing, grunts echoing from the back of his throat. He was clearly frustrated, but did that excuse his actions? I shook my head, trying to clear the image of him from my mind.
Throughout the rest of the ball, I could feel Arthur’s warm gaze on me. Our eyes met a few times, his green eyes searching mine for something. I always looked away after a few seconds.
I tried to concentrate on the conversations around me, but the encounter had shaken me more than I cared to admit. I didn’t want to admit it, but the argument had ruined my night. And he seemed genuinely upset about it.
Had I overreacted?
After the ball, I showered and tried to sleep. But my mind was racing, replaying the argument and my reaction. I even considered apologizing to Arthur, something I wasn’t accustomed to doing.
The next day marked the beginning of the pack’s games. It was a tradition among the packs in the region. When a new alpha was about to take over, a season of games would be held to entertain and mingle the alphas and future alphas.
This time, it was my pack hosting the games.
We spent the morning setting everything up. I was so nervous I could barely eat lunch. By mid-afternoon, the guests started to arrive.
We had set up tables for snacks and drinks, and since the first day was dedicated to archery, we set up target tripods in one of our large gardens.
I was cleaning my bow and greeting the arriving alphas when a familiar scent hit my nose. It was Arthur. He was dressed in his pack’s guard uniform, a black outfit with a vest full of holsters. He looked even more attractive, if that was possible.
I greeted his father, Augustus, before turning to him.
“Arthur.”
“Clair,” he responded with a curt nod.
“You came,” I said, surprise evident in my voice. “Have you stopped running away and are you finally going to start taking on the responsibilities of your pack?” I teased him, immediately regretting my words when I remembered his father’s illness.
Arthur’s expression hardened. Just then, his father stumbled, his knee giving out. Arthur quickly stepped in to support him.
“Dad, are you okay? Do you want to sit down?” Arthur asked, concern etched on his face.
Seeing the love and worry he had for his father made me swallow hard. Maybe Arthur was a better person than I had given him credit for.
I quickly pulled up a chair from the drinks table and offered it to them. Arthur met my eyes and gave a short nod of thanks. His father declined the chair but accepted a glass of juice. Soon after, he seemed to feel better.
When the rest of the alphas arrived, we started the games.
As the official hostess, I took the first shot. A wide smile spread across my face when my arrow landed just two centimeters above the black dot marking the center. Tommy, my father, and a few other alphas took their shots, none of them coming close to my mark.
Then it was Arthur’s turn.
He pulled his bow from his back and drew an arrow. His movements were firm and precise, as if he had been doing this his whole life. He seemed strangely confident.
There was no way he could beat my mark. His confidence would be for nothing.
But then he closed his left eye, aimed for the center, and released the arrow. It whizzed through the air and hit the black dot dead center. My jaw dropped in astonishment.
Arthur turned to me, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. He placed his bow on his back and moved on to the next target. As he passed me, he leaned in and whispered, “I didn’t spend the last ten years just sleeping around and partying like you thought. I spent those years studying, Clair. And unfortunately for you, archery wasn’t just one of the courses I took—it was the one I excelled at the most.”
It wasn’t until he moved away that I realized I was panting.
Damn, Clair.
We competed in all twenty targets. Alpha Christopher and Alpha Vincent gave me some competition. They had done the same guard training as I had, so they were really good.
But Arthur was on a whole different level. He was so much better than me it almost felt unfair for him to compete with us. He looked like a professional among amateurs.
He won the first medal of the games by a landslide. After the competitions, there was a time to relax, drink, and eat. I could feel Arthur’s eyes on me again, his gaze filled with resentment. It was almost unbearable.
I felt an urge to apologize for my actions. It was unlike me—I couldn’t remember the last time I had apologized. But I felt like I needed to. It was almost instinctual.
I waited for him to go to the drink station and approached him. He looked up from the whiskey he was pouring and tensed when he saw me.
“Do you want a drink? Or did you come to insult me again?” His words were laced with pain. Why was he so resentful of me when we barely knew each other?
I sighed before speaking. “Actually, I came to apologize. But a shot of whiskey is always a good idea,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.
He looked surprised. “Apologies? Clair Troffenhol apologizing?” Arthur shook his head, a smile playing at his lips.
“Don’t get too comfortable with this, it’s not a regular occurrence. I made a comment earlier that was uncalled for.” I glanced away, letting out a sigh.
“I still think it was foolish of you to disappear for ten years under the guise of studying, and I can’t help but feel you were running from responsibility. But I know you returned for him, and you’re stepping up to lead the pack, for him.”
My eyes drifted to Augustus, seated a little distance away, before returning to Arthur. “And there’s nothing I respect more than the bond between a father and his son,” I confessed, meeting Arthur’s gaze and swallowing hard under the weight of his intense stare.
I felt trapped under his gaze, as if it had physically immobilized me. My breath quickened, my heart pounded, and when Arthur shifted slightly closer, my body instinctively leaned in to meet him. I could feel the warmth of his breath on my forehead, and my own breath hitched in my throat.
That was until Tommy walked into the station for a drink. I stepped back, catching sight of Arthur shaking his head.
“Whiskey, Clair? Are you truly your father’s daughter? Let me guess, two ice cubes?” Arthur attempted to lighten the mood.
I responded with a smile and a nod.
“Well, he’s the one who taught me how to drink,” I replied, shrugging my shoulders with a smile.
Tommy grinned as he poured himself a drink, leaving just as Arthur handed me my glass. Our fingers brushed for a moment, sending a tremor through my body.
“I also overreacted yesterday,” I added, just as Arthur turned to face me again.
“I appreciate your apology, Clair, and I respect anyone who can admit their mistakes.”
He took a sip of his whiskey, his gaze never leaving mine. The intensity of his stare sent shivers down my spine, leaving me breathless.
Then, he followed Tommy.
