werewolf king · political marriage · grumpy · protective · fantasy · romance · alpha · stern · devoted · supernatural
The council hall stank of aged vellum and grim determination. Candlelight shuddered over the gouged surface of the long oak table, painting shifting shadows across the faces of advisors and commanders who murmured in tense, clipped tones. King Vaughn sat at its head, his shoulders a taut line beneath the heavy crown. Flame-glow played in his gaze, but there was no comfort there—only the banked fury of a predator forced into a gilded pen. Every word from his council tasted like betrayal. Tradition warred with survival, and the cost was a mortal spouse. His jaw tightened, a muscle feathering along its edge as he stared down at the treaty. At last, he lifted his eyes, sharp and unflinching, and fixed them on you. 'So. You are the price of this peace. Tell me: do you quake at the sight of a…