7. Cole

I'd never believed in luck—until now.

I had entered into an arranged marriage willingly, even though as a shifter it should've been mating, but the human segment of our population wouldn't stand for us living together with no piece of paper proving we were husband and husband.

But my husband turned out to be my one true mate. There'd be no pretending or leading a double life. We wouldn't have to juggle us being husbands in public while quietly being mated in private. And I hadn't thought of the clusterfuck of my omega husband being pregnant with his mate's baby while the public would see it as mine. Thank gods we avoided that minefield.

The ceremony and long-ass boring speeches went as Father had planned—or his private secretary had done so on the express wishes of my father, the king—and we were now ready to eat and hopefully chat and get to know one another. My spouse hadn't said one word to me. Other than repeating his name, Henri, and saying "I do," he hadn't spoken since we met at the altar.

What the ever loving fuck had happened?

I'd never encountered a situation where one shifter met his mate and the other person didn't experience the mating pull. It could happen if one half of the couple was human, I supposed. But my husband was a shifter.

Mate him. My bear hadn't let up since Henri walked close enough in the cathedral for us to scent him. He didn't understand my omega husband not being the chatty type. That wasn't a consideration for a shifter beast.

As I stuck my fork in a mouthful of lobster, I snuck a glance at Henri. He was fiddling with the food on his plate. Father would be enraged at Raine, his private secretary, if my husband didn't like seafood. He's told him to suss out my husband and his family's food allergies, plus likes and dislikes, and if he'd made a mistake, heads would roll. Not literally, not like the old days. Instead, Raine might be demoted or fired.

"If the lobster isn't to your liking, there are twelve more courses coming." If Henri was ill, me telling me how much food was headed for his plate might roil his belly further. I grabbed an empty wine glass in case he wanted to puke.

"It's fine. I'm not hungry."

Fine. I would hear the king's voice rising to screech Level 10 as his new son-in-law described the finest lobster as just "fine."

Henri took a sip of water, ignoring the wine that came from our vineyards in the hills behind the palace. He didn't sound angry, more sad, and a ball of anxiety formed in my belly. Was being married to a prince, who would one day be king, so horrifying that it smothered his desire to mate?

Huh?My bear couldn't grasp the concept, and I had no words to smooth his concern.

We sat in silence through the rest of the very long meal, and Henri's reaction to the situation put a damper on my appetite. Like my new husband, I pushed the shrimp in white wine sauce course around my plate, along with salmon and the pizza with gold leaf sprinkled on top, until I caught Father glowering at me and steeled myself to eat most of what was put in front of me.

Taking a peek at my dad, I noted that he wasn't eating much either but was engaged in animated conversation with Henri's alpha father, a business titan, seated beside him

The food was like a rock in my belly, and when the dessert arrived, I ate the ice cream—the cooling effect calmed my stomach contents—and left the cake studded with diamonds.

Father announced the next event was the ball, and everyone at the top table, including Henri and myself, rose. I offered my husband an arm which he took. If he hadn't, tongues would have been wagging.

We strolled in silence to the ballroom, smiles on our faces. Mine was plastered on and would have to be removed by plastic surgery. Knowing what was coming next didn't calm my nerves.

The first dance. I'd take Henri in my arms and we'd waltz around the ballroom before other couples joined in. I'd been taking dancing lessons since I was a kid, so a waltz was no biggie. There'd be no stepping on toes from me. But as I took my husband in my arms and his body molded against mine, it was as though we were made for each other, like we were two halves of a whole, and when the music started, the rest of the world fell away.

The crowd gathered around the edges of the dance floor blurred. Henri's cool breath washed over me, and my cock stiffened. Thank gods no one could see my arousal thanks to my husband shielding me. My lips rested against his ear, and I was tempted to nibble it, but my length swelled further, straining my pants.

I couldn't resist asking Henri once again if he was okay. While it was possible to whisk him away from the festivities before I was supposed to, I could tell Father we were eager to consummate the marriage. He wouldn't get annoyed at the prospect of a grandchild, one who would ensure our dynasty continued, would he?

I whispered against his ear, his scent so intoxicating goosebumps marched over my skin, reminding me of the guards outside my room each morning.

"I'm fine," was his response, echoing what he'd said earlier. But his body stiffened and not the part I'd hoped.

He obviously wasn't, his body giving him away and contradicting his words.

"I can't wait to be done with all of this and get to my room."

We continued dancing, neither of us missing a beat, but my smile was sagging. Henri had spat out the words "my room," not ours. He couldn't wait to be away, not only from the festivities but also me.

Despite the smile fixed on my face, my mood altered from optimistic and bubbly about our relationship to troubled.

What now?my bear asked.