Chapter 140: What happened at the banquet 2
The prince moved closer, his golden eyes glinting with an unsettling intent as his scent, sharp with the bitterness of alcohol, washed over Noelle. Holding back the wave of nausea, Noelle kept his face neutral, willing himself to endure the discomfort without a single twitch.
They walked in silence until they reached a dead end in the maze. Noelle turned to leave, but the prince was already there, blocking his path. In one smooth movement, the prince stepped forward, trapping him against the dense greenery.
"You see," the prince drawled, his voice low as he reached out, letting a few strands of Noelle’s hair slip through his fingers, "being who I am, I’ve been around beautiful people all my life—men, women. But you... you’re something else."
Noelle felt his jaw tighten, and he took a deliberate step back, putting some distance between them. "I appreciate the compliment, your highness," he said, keeping his voice even, respectful. "But I would be grateful if you took a few steps back."
The prince’s lips curved into a smirk, clearly amused by the quiet defiance in Noelle’s tone. Instead of complying, he leaned in just a fraction closer, his smirk deepening. "You’re tense," he noted, an air of arrogance lacing his words. "You don’t need to be so distant, not when your husband is not here."
The scent of pheromones hung thick in the air, an overwhelming reminder of the prince’s presence that only served to repulse Noelle further. He took another few cautious steps back, feeling the maze’s leafy walls close in around him.
"Regardless of my alpha’s current absence," he stated firmly, "it doesn’t change the fact that I belong to him and him alone. No matter the distance, I must turn down your advances."
The prince let out a laugh—an unexpected sound that echoed unnervingly in the confined space. "You see, in this world, there are those born into greatness, destined for greatness, and then there are those destined for mediocrity," he said, casually plucking a flower from the plant walls, its vibrant colors contrasting sharply with the darkness of the maze.
His gaze shifted to Noelle, the smirk returning to his lips. "That husband of yours, Thorne—Thorne, the so-called Crimson General. A man who refuses to stick to his predestined role," the prince continued, each word dripping with disdain.
Noelle felt a surge of incredulity rise within him. "You dare speak of my husband that way?" he challenged, his voice steadier than the roiling emotions beneath the surface. "Thorne has earned every ounce of respect he commands, and he has done so on his own terms."
The prince waved a dismissive hand, still toying with the flower as if it were the most interesting object in the world. "Respect? Or perhaps fear? You see, that’s the difference between a man of true greatness and one who merely basks in the light of others. Thorne’s reputation is built on blood and conquest, and yet you cling to him as if he is your savior."