"I'm not going." Landon's voice carried a finality I'd become all too familiar with.
"But you're the King, you can't just not go!" I insisted, smoothing down the dress I'd selected from the wardrobe that morning.
"Watch me," he replied, arms crossed over his massive chest, his gray eyes challenging me to argue.
I sighed, studying him as he leaned against the bedroom door frame. Despite being dressed impeccably in his formal attire—a black tunic with red stitching that accentuated his broad shoulders and his royal status—his expression remained stubborn.
"It's just a gathering of local Alphas. They want to meet their King, not the monster from the stories," I reasoned, approaching him cautiously.
His eyebrow quirked up at the word "monster."
"What? That's how they see you." I placed my palms against his chest. "Because you never show your face at any events. You send Ronan, you send Regina, but the King himself? Nowhere to be found."
