The Triplet Alphas' Curse: Rejected by the Wolfless Luna.

Dark Fae Realm:

Aire’s smile disappeared.

For one suspended heartbeat, she simply stared at him.

Lysander? Asking her to marry him?

Her skin drained of colour. She instinctively stepped backward. She automatically took a step back again.

Every instinct inside her had quietly whispered, asking her to take as much distance as she could between her and Lysander.

Lysander watched her carefully.

She reached the edge of the enormous bed and lowered herself onto it without realizing she had done so.

The mattress dipped beneath her weight.

Neither of them spoke.

Aire folded both hands together upon her lap. She stared down at them, and her lips trembled in shock.

She swallowed, hoping it would ease the thousand emotions spiralling in her head but it wasn’t working.

She didn’t know what to say. Not because she lacked words, but because she genuinely couldn’t understand what had just happened.

Marriage?

Her thoughts drifted backward.

She remembered him lying. She remembered discovering his fake name, and that he was once human.

She remembered the throne room. She remembered Vaelor. She remembered the kiss.

The memory burned, and everything appeared to her in a flash.

Her fingers tightened together.

Several long minutes passed.

Lysander never interrupted her.

He simply waited, confident she would see no way out. As long as she would now spend the rest of her life here, it would be stupid of her to say no to his offer.

Aire slowly lifted her face. Her silver eyes searched his.

She separated him from Lyse. This was Lysander’s.

Quietly she asked, "Was this because of the kiss?"

Lysander frowned. He actually looked offended. Deeply offended. His brows pulled together.

"Do you truly think so little of me?"

Aire blinked once.

He stepped toward her. "You believe I’d ask you to marry me because of a kiss?" His voice carried genuine disbelief. "I am not some lovesick boy chasing affection."

His jaw hardened. "Also, if I wished only for your body..."

He stopped himself, and exhaled slowly instead.

"No." His voice lowered. "It has nothing to do with the kiss."

Aire continued studying him.

He sounded sincere. Unfortunately, so had every lie he’d ever told her.

"You asked immediately afterward." Her voice remained calm. "So naturally..." She shrugged faintly, emotionally tired. "I assumed the two were connected."

"They aren’t." He told her.

"They aren’t?" She asked, daring him to repeat it.

"No." He answered so firmly that she almost believed him.

Lysander began pacing slowly across the chamber. "I’ve been thinking about this long before yesterday."

His hands disappeared behind his back. "You simply... accelerated the conversation."

Aire frowned, wondering if he was about to blame her. "I don’t understand."

He looked at her. "And that’s precisely why we’re speaking." He stopped before the fireplace.

"Aire." He called her, staring into the fire, as if in deep thoughts. His voice became quieter. "You are no longer a visitor. You are an asset."

Her stomach tightened.

He continued. "Vaelor doesn’t see people. He sees usefulness."

"I know." Aire swallowed.

"You don’t." His eyes darkened. "You’ve only seen the beginning." He looked toward the fire deeply. "Once he decides exactly how valuable you are."

Aire already understood. She had seen enough.

He turned back toward her. "I can protect you." His voice came out a bit desperate.

The words hung heavily between them.

Aire tilted her head. "By marrying me."

He gently clapped his hands together, and his gaze on her sharpened. "Yes."

She stared at him. She swallowed in disgust, as she pressed her lower abdomen, to stop herself from throwing up anytime soon.

"That protects me?" She managed to ask through the emotions flowing through her at once.

"It gives you standing." He answered immediately. "It gives you a name that cannot easily be discarded." He pressed the bridge of his nose. "It gives you someone capable of opposing decisions made about you."

His expression remained steady. "It gives you me."

Aire blinked in shock. She couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. "You." She repeated, her voice small.

"Yes."

"The man who lied to me every day." Pain crossed her face. "The man who delivered me into this realm before Morrigan ever did."

His shoulders stiffened.

"The man whose brother intends to use me as a weapon."

He closed his eyes briefly.

"And your solution...." She spoke almost gently. "is marriage?"

Lysander nodded. "Yes." He sounded certain.

Aire looked away. Very deep inside her, she felt tired. Not angry, or heartbroken, but simply tired.

She rubbed absentmindedly at her wrist.

"So." She whispered. "I escaped one prison..." Her eyes drifted slowly around the enormous chamber. "only to be placed inside another."

Lysander frowned. "Marriage isn’t imprisonment."

"No?" She looked at him again. "What part of it is freedom?"

He hesitated briefly. "I am giving you stability." His jaw tightened, as he tried to compelled her, and realised it was useless.

He let out a frustrated desperate grunt, and decided to speak. "It is protection."

Aire shook her head in refusal. She stared at him with no emotion in her eyes, and her expression unreadable. "It is not, Lysander."

"It is—"

"A choice?" She interrupted softly.

Silence fell between them.

Lysander didn’t answer, because he couldn’t.

Aire smiled sadly. "There." She nodded once. "That’s the difference between us."

He looked genuinely confused.

"You hear protection." She told him. "I hear permission."

He frowned harder.

"I would never forbid you from living."

"No." She agreed. "You’d simply decide what living looks like for me from the moment I say yes to you."

The words struck him.

She could see it.

He hadn’t realized that, not until now.

He stood motionless.

"I..." He searched for an answer. "I would decide what keeps you alive."

Aire’s smile disappeared immediately. She saw it now, and clearly.

Lysander wasn’t pretending. He genuinely believed he was saving her. He simply never considered asking whether she wanted saving in the way he imagined.

Everything became painfully clear.

This wasn’t cruelty. He wad far certain that he this would be the only way for him to protect her.

He was utterly certain he knew what was best for her.

She lowered her eyes. "You’re selfish." The words escaped her lips quietly.

Lysander froze. "I beg your pardon?"

She met his gaze again. "You don’t hear yourself."

"I hear myself perfectly."

She shook her head. "You hear only your own answer."

He stared at her.

She continued softly. "You’ve spoken about protection. You’ve spoken about standing. You’ve spoken about politics."

She tilted her head. "You’ve spoken about what you believe." Her voice remained remarkably calm. "You never once asked what I wanted."

The room fell silent.

For several long seconds, Lysander simply looked at her.

"I already know." He broke the silence between them. "You need protection from Vaelor. I can do that. I can make sure he doesn’t exhaust your powers."

Aire’s heart sank.

There it was, exactly what she’d expected.

"You know what I want?"

"Yes."

"You know what I want." She repeated herself again.

Lysander took a soft step towards her. "You want to survive."

She nodded. "I do."

"And this is how." He spread one hand, urging her to accept it. "You marry me."

Aire slowly looked away.

He truly believed it. There wasn’t an ounce of manipulation in his face, only conviction. Which somehow frightened her more.

Conviction could not be negotiated with.

"You keep saying I have a choice." She whispered. "But every choice you’ve offered.." She looked back at him. "ends with you."

Lysander didn’t deny it.

"Every other outcome in this realm ends with you broken." He answered. "So yes."

His voice hardened. "It is either you marry me..." He took another step toward her. "or..." He paused, for his words to sink into her.

"you marry me." He deadpanned.

Aire felt something inside her quietly crack.

First, she had been dragged into another realm. Then, she had learned she would become a weapon.

Now, she was learning she would become someone’s wife.

She looked down at her own hands. They still looked like her hands. Yet somehow, her life no longer belonged to them.

All because she was born with silver hair due to the circumstances of her birth.

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