But the wine had warmed her blood, and his gaze was doing things to her pulse that she couldn’t seem to control. Every instinct she’d honed over years of protecting herself was screaming warnings, but they were drowned out by something deeper—a pull she didn’t understand but couldn’t ignore.
As dinner wound down, Faith claimed exhaustion before the night could stretch any further into dangerous territory. Sheneeded space to think, to process what she’d learned and what it might mean for the week ahead.
Kovrak escorted her back to her suite, walking close enough that she could feel his heat radiating through the space between them. The restraint felt deliberate—like everything else about him.
Once at her door, he paused, his eyes studying her face with a piercing intensity that made her breath catch.
“Tomorrow is the opening ceremony,” he said, his voice carrying quiet authority. “You will stand beside me for that event.”
A statement, not a command. But weighted with meaning that made her pulse flutter.
“And afterward,” he added, something almost like warmth creeping into his tone, “I will show you the kitchens.”
There it was—the reminder that she had a job to do beyond being decorative arm candy. Professional obligations that didn’t require her to navigate the minefield of royal romance or tiger shifter politics.
“Goodnight, Prince Kovrak.”
His eyes darkened slightly at the formality. “Just Kovrak,” he said quietly. “Goodnight, Faith.”
She slipped inside her suite and closed the door, pressing her back against the solid wood.
What in the world—or galaxy—was that contract she signed really about?
FOUR
KOVRAK
Dawn light filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Kovrak’s private chambers, casting long shadows across the polished marble floors. Below in the main palace gardens, servants moved with practiced efficiency, arranging the final touches for the Opening Ceremony of the Festival of Twin Suns. Royal blue and silver banners snapped in the morning breeze, their trim accents catching the light of both rising suns. Everything appeared flawless and controlled, ready for the spectacle that would officially begin his twenty-first attempt at securing his future.
Kovrak stood motionless before the vast windows, already dressed in his ceremonial attire—blue jacket with silver threading that matched the banners, formal trousers that emphasized his powerful legs, and the ceremonial sash that marked him as heir apparent. His reflection stared back from the glass, every line precise and controlled. The exact opposite of what churned inside him.
What the hell is wrong with me?
For thirty-five years, he had been the master of his own emotions. Discipline equaled survival. Control meant strength. Merral had drilled those lessons into him until they becameas natural as breathing. Yet here he stood, watching servants arrange flowers and feeling his pulse race like some untested youth facing his first battle.
Faith.
Even thinking her name sent heat spiraling through him, making his tiger pace restlessly beneath his ribs. The creature had been eager since the moment their hands touched yesterday, prowling through his consciousness with single-minded focus.
Mine. Claim. Mark.
Sleep had been impossible. Every time Kovrak closed his eyes, he saw her in that midnight blue silk—the way it had hugged her curves, accentuated the swell of her hips, made her legs look impossibly long. The memory of her across the candlelit table, listening to him with genuine interest rather than calculated strategy, hit him harder than any political maneuvering ever had.
Twenty years of festivals. Twenty years of women who saw the crown, not the man. Not once had anyone asked about his childhood or acknowledged the weight he carried. But Faith had looked at him like he mattered beyond his title, and that simple recognition had nearly undone two decades of careful emotional armor.
His tiger hadn’t cared about conversation during dinner. It had wanted to sweep everything off that table, lift her onto the polished wood, and end twenty years of waiting in a single decisive act. The urge had been so powerful that Kovrak’s hand had gripped his wine glass too hard and he thought Faith would notice. But thankfully, she didn’t.
Control yourself, Kovrak.
But control felt impossible when it came to Faith. He’d walked back to her suite three separate times last night, stopping just outside her door with his hand raised to knock. What wouldhe have said? What excuse could he have given for appearing at her threshold late at night? He couldn’t possibly have told her the truth.
Faith, I need you.
Because the truth terrified even him. Kovrak had built his entire existence around never needing anyone, never depending on something he couldn’t control. Yet Faith made him feel like an addict facing his first taste of salvation—desperate, unsteady, and completely out of his depth.
The mate bond.
That’s what his tiger recognized, what had his beast practically purring with satisfaction. All those other women—competent, beautiful, politically advantageous—had never triggered this response because they weren’t his. Faith was different. Faith washis, chosen by forces older than politics or law.