3rd Person
There was a time when Lydia had dreamed about witnessing a Prince’s temper tantrum – mostly because she always imagined it would be her son, and she would have been so thrilled to be a mother and queen that she wouldn’t have cared about a childish outburst. Seeing a fully grown man, an Alpha she was hoping to seduce, rant and rave was a different thing entirely. Prince Damon had arrived back from the failed meeting with Sinclair to discover that Ella was long gone, and promptly torn her bedroom to sheds in the heat of his anger. Walls punched, curtains torn, furniture toppled and broken – at this point it looked like a tornado had swept through the room, and Lydia was both disgusted and alarmed.
She wasn’t sure whether she should make her presence known or not. The guards had fetched her after they returned and filled her in on the situation, but Damon’s destructive fury worried her. Ella’s warnings about the man abusing his mate rung in her ears, and right now she had no trouble believing it. Lydia was furious with herself for not noticing the small army infiltrating the palace, but she’d been preoccupied trying to plan a romantic dinner for the Prince once the ransom was completed. In her mind Damon would have returned to the palace to retrieve Ella once Sinclair agreed to surrender, completed the trade and come home to celebrate with her. However now she was more worried that the Prince would blame her for concocting the plan and missing the invasion.
Lydia tried to make herself as small as possible, hovering just inside the doorway and praying to become invisible. He wouldn’t kill her… would he? The way he was shouting and cursing sounded much like an overwrought toddler, but this man was twice her size and could easily snap her like a twig if he wanted to. What have I gotten myself into? She thought anxiously, true doubt assailing her for the first time.
Right on cue, the Prince whirled around and saw Lydia, cowering with her arms wrapped around her slender body. Her body language reminded him so much of his late wife that a fresh wave of wrath slammed into him. He didn’t need to be reminded that his mate had been taken from him, especially not by this schemer. “You!” He seethed, jabbing an accusatory finger in Lydia’s direction, “this is all your fault! Where the hell were you!”
Her eyes widened, “I–” Before Lydia could say another word, the Prince crossed the room and slammed her back against the wall, wrapping his powerful fist around her throat.
“Shut the hell up.” He ordered ferociously. “You stupid bitch, you come here bragging about being able to help me because you know Sinclair sooo well, but your plans have done nothing but backfire! I told you he wouldn’t give up his campaign that easily! I told you he would stage a rescue!”
Lydia wanted to snap back at him, to tell him he never would have even had the opportunity to kidnap Ella if it wasn’t for her. After all, his rogue attack had failed miserably, and she’d been able to tell him exactly how Sinclair’s emergency protocols worked. She was the reason he was getting so much sympathy in the press, the reason his ratings were so high. But she couldn’t say any of this, because he was still shouting at her, his claws digging into her throat.
“You’ve been a pain in my ass since the moment you arrived!” He related, “Honestly, you have some nerve – waltzing in here as if you aren’t just the barren reject of a lesser man.”
Lydia’s jaw dropped, and despite the fact that she could barely breathe, she argued, “How dare you – that isn’t true!”
“Oh give it up!” The Prince countered, a sadistic glint in his eye. He’d always preferred to inflict physical pain, but there was no denying how pleasurable it could be to destroy a woman emotionally. “I called your husband, you know. I wanted to rub it in his face that you’d transferred your allegiance to me and you know what he told me? He told me that you came slinking onto his doorstep after you left Sinclair, promising to give him a whole litter of pups and bragging about all your experience as a Luna. And when he realized you were just a lazy gold digger who couldn’t conceive an original thought – much less a baby, he kicked you to the curb.” Damon informed her maliciously.
“You didn’t come back because Sinclair upgraded to a younger, prettier she-wolf, you did it because you had nowhere else to go.” Tears burned in Lydia’s eyes as the cruel man taunted her with her worst failures, but this only seemed to egg Damon on. “And I let you stay because I thought, I thought, your knowledge of Sinclair could still hold some value for me, but it turns out you’re as useless a strategist as you were a mate.”
His grip on her throat was getting tighter now, and Lydia dug her fingers into his hand, trying to pry it away so she’d have the space to breathe. “Please,” She begged. “I– I can still help you.”
“I don’t see how.” The Prince scoffed, “if anything you being close to me is weakening public sympathy for me.” He paused, a dawning light overtaking his features as Ella and Sinclair’s clues about Angeline’s murder swirled through his mind. “Why is it that you waited until my campaign was already on the upswing to offer your assistance anyway?”
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