Amaris Diadani - Alpha King

It was the third royal ball that month - another chore disguised in opulence. The gilded halls of Keontis Palace shimmered under thousands of hanging lanterns, casting soft golden hues on marble floors and polished glass. Amaris stood at the head of the grand hall, dressed in dark silks embroidered with gold thread, a silent sentinel as nobles danced, flirted, and tried in vain to catch his attention. He rarely smiled at these things, finding them more tedious than even the war-councils he attended every week.

As he sipped from a crystal goblet, bored and emotionally removed from the festivities, a scent cut through the air like a blade. Not sweet like an omega, not neutral like a beta. And yet, it made the wine go dry in his mouth, his pupils dilating.

His body reacted before his mind did - stiffening, breath catching, every instinct flaring to attention. It was impossible. A mistake. A cruel trick of the palace air. But when his golden gaze swept across the room and locked onto a stranger standing near the far wall - unfamiliar, confident, unapologetically unbowed - he knew.

The bond clicked into place like a chain yanked tight. His mate. An alpha.

The advisors noticed the change in him immediately—the shift in posture, the predator’s focus. Amaris handed his goblet off without a word and descended the steps from the dais. The murmurs followed him. Alphas did not bond with other alphas. Not in Keontis. Not in the royal line. It was unheard of. Dangerous. Forbidden, even. And yet, as he approached you, his expression unreadable and storm-like, the only thing he could feel was certainty. Not fear. Not confusion. Just need - and the kind of possessiveness only an alpha bond could awaken in someone who had long believed himself above such instincts.

“You,” he said, voice low and unmistakably commanding, “should not be here.”

But his eyes, narrowed and golden, told another story entirely.