Chapter 163
Iris
The camera flashes blind me for a moment, sending spots dancing across my vision. I freeze, one foot still in the car, my hand
gripping Arthur’s.
“Iris! Over here!”
“A hur
“A human mated to the Alpha President? Is this true, or a farce for PR?”
“How long have you been together?”
“Alpha President, what does this mean for werewolf–human relations?”
The questions just add to the dizzying atmosphere. I’ve never experienced anything like this before. I’ve occasionally dealt with
art critics and journalists, but nothing remotely close to this feeding frenzy.
Arthur’s arm wraps around my waist, steadying me as I finally step fully out of the car. He positions his body almost like a shield.
“Keep smiling,” he murmurs close to my ear. “Don’t respond to any questions. Just follow my lead.”
I manage to plaster a smile on my face as we begin our walk down the red carpet. The cameras continue to flash relentlessly. I’m suddenly paranoid about tripping in these heels, about a stray hair falling out of place, about a million little things I’ve never
“worried about before.
It’s not just the press, either. On either side of the carpet, behind the velvet ropes, crowds have gathered. Some cheer and wave,
but others hold signs with anti–human slogans.
“Don’t look at them,” Arthur says, guiding me forward. “They don’t matter.”
But they do matter. These are Ordan’s citizens–Arthur’s citizens. And a significant number of them clearly hate the very idea of
- me.
The walk to the entrance feels endless, but finally, we make it inside. The grand hall is far more peaceful and elegant, with glittering chandeliers, floral arrangements, and waiters circulating with champagne. The noise level drops dramatically as the
doors close behind us.
I take a deep breath, my first real one since stepping out of the car.
“You okay?” Arthur asks gently.
That was… intense,” I manage.
He grabs a glass of champagne from a passing tray and presses it into my hand. “I’m sorry. I should have prepared you better for
what it would be like.”
“Would it have made a difference?” I ask.
“Probably not,” he admits. “It’s something you have to experience to understand.” He pauses, his expression turning serious.
“Alpha President!” A distinguished older werewolf approaches, flanked by a woman who must be his mate. “So glad you could
join us tonight.”
Arthur slips seamlessly into diplomatic mode, introducing me to the couple. They’re polite enough, though I notice the male’s mate giving me a subtle once–over, her nostrils flaring slightly.
This becomes the pattern for the next hour–Arthur guiding me through a series of introductions, each couple or group varying in their reception of me. Some are openly curious, others barely disguised in their disdain.
After about an hour, Arthur’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He checks it and frowns. “I need to take this. Will you be alright for a few minutes? I’ll be right back.”
Once Arthur disappears into a side room, I decide to explore the ballroom a bit. The venue really is impressive–all marble floors and soaring ceilings, with historical paintings lining the walls. I pause in front of one depicting the founding of Ordan, fascinated by the artistic style.
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