The Hidden Princess At All-Boys Alpha Academy novel Chapter 182

Chapter 0282 

“I hate that,” I murmur, working to press myself closer to him, even though that’s not really possible. “I hate the idea of you scared, and alone, and talking to girls when I was just like… half a city away.” 

“But you were engaged,” he says, his voice strange- I think a little amused? I don’t know. I can’t quite parse it. 

“You knew about that?” I ask, looking up at him wide–eyed, 

“How could I not?” he asks, grinning at me. “You were all over the media – – and it’s all anyone would talk about, especially as it got close.” 

“Well,” I say, smiling myself a little too and reaching up to stroke my fingers through his hair. “What did you think about it?” 

“You’ll be disappointed in me, Ari,” he murmurs, lowering his face and taking a sniff of my hair. “I didn’t really think about it. It was all very far from what I had been instructed to think was important, what I could understand – a royal wedding…” he shakes his head. “I didn’t have a way to understand it, why it was important.” 

“Oh, come on,” I say, shoving his shoulder a little, my smile deepening. “You must have thought something.” 

Jackson grins at me for a long moment before he breaks, looking away from me like he can’t hold my eyes while he admits it. “Fine,” he says, heaving a little sigh. “I thought you were… very pretty.” 

“Pretty!?” I say, grinning and sitting up straighter with a happy squeak. “You thought I was pretty!?” 

“Just in passing,” he mutters, still not looking at me, a faint blush on his cheeks. “I saw a few pictures on the covers of magazines –” 

“So then how did you not recognize me when we met!?” I shout, laughing and tugging on his shirt, wanting him to look at me again. My mate, ever obliging, turns his head to smile at me. 

“Because you were a boy, Ariel – and you smelled like a boy, and I had no reason to equate the lowest–ranked Candidate at the academy with the pretty girl I’d seen on a magazine cover 

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“You thought I was prettttty,” I sing, a little delighted, wiggling victoriously in his lap. 

“And I was right,” he growls, snatching me closer and bending me back a bit in a way that makes heat coil in my core. “You are pretty. Much prettier in person, and not dressed up in all that bride–y gauze.” 

“Yes, all that bride stuff really was crap,” I say with a sigh, staring up at him, starry–eyed and swept away by how wonderful he is – at once handsome, and powerful, and cute. God, how does he manage it? 

But there’s still so much more I want to know, and I’m being selfish, turning this conversation away from him. 

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