Coldsnap: The Billionaire Alpha's Fated Pregnant Princess (GL)-Chapter 356 - Driving Our Insecurity

He kept his eyes on the road, as far as I can tell. Even as he made this attempt to ’level the playing field’ with me. A fox who had been dancing on the edges of the game board with a hand of cards that could either be a winner or a bluff all this while.

"I trust her. So when she tells me there’s an apocalypse coming and asks me to believe it... then I believe her certainty, even if I’m not personally sure about the source."

"Pragmatic on the surface, but swayed by the emotion of it underneath. Every single Rimecoat I have met has been thus. There is a phrase that Helene’s father liked, popularized in this country by one of your presidents. Trust, but verify."

Letting myself laugh, finally, my hands find the topsides of both front seats as I pull myself toward the center of the car from my seat in the back to continue my rant. Showing teeth, sneer, and my spirit’s glowing blue eyes, I seek to provoke her ’right-hand man’ despite my thought to hold off..

Or, well, right-pawed male werewolf? Close enough.

"Your people take this phrase too literally. It is meant to acknowledge the possibility of malfeasance or an ignorance of malice when there are many mouths involved, but it is never meant to excuse an immediate kindhearted *faith* sourced from the past."

"Why have you avoided the bond with her?"

I can feel my face react to his tangent. My jaw tighten. So I close my eyes and sit back down. Listening to his fingers drumming on a steering wheel.

The first sign of nervousness he has shown this evening, likely thinking the abrupt question in the middle of my monologue was a band-aid ripped off with too little care. If so, he is right.

I tried to resist, but Vrika’s immediate defensive bristling in my mindscape had not lessened. Even though it constantly impresses similar questions to me - it does not appreciate him doing the same. And neither do I, because at least the spirit creature has been shown the underpinnings of my reasons.

> Fine. I’ll do it. <

"...Why do you refuse to marry Claire?"

"That’s different."

Immediate. Unhesitant. Proving he thinks his choices come from a superior place than mine. Or that his outlook is less fallible. A hypocrite knows another.

"Is it? You care about her. She cares about you, far too much. But you won’t commit. So tell me, Mr. Stroman. What’s your excuse?"

Clearly but not loudly, I stab at him with my tongue - as I always do to people who have touched nerves I should not have. Staring at my palm, fingers curled and nails painted red as candied apples.

As red as her business shirts or her skin when bit.

"Do you see some sort of unhappy end if you let yourself ask? A future you are sure that can never ultimately be, some understanding in your heart that she deserves something more normal, or maybe a fear that her mind will change and leave you broken?"

Those same fingers slide into the sleeves of a coat as I talk. Covering myself, armoring me against the very words I speak. Even though a layer on the outside does nothing for my insides.

"If you pretend to give it any thought, then maybe you’ll understand why I am not prepared to take the judgment in your question so quietly."

"In our world, it’s rude to answer a question with a question."

"No different from mine. What a coincidence."

That tension remained until we grew close to the venue. An impressive enough building complex that sprawled more than climbed. People in expensive clothing moved toward a main entrance, photographers clustered near the door there.

As well as near the other door, even as it was intended for more private guests. More limited in the number of flashes, more numerous in the number of hired staff members keeping people away. And right where he pulled up to, with attentive faces and cameras turning our way.

"For what it’s worth... I can’t tell if you’re the best actress I’ve ever met, or if you’re exactly what you claim to them to be. But here’s what I do know."

He put the car in park and turned to face me as directly as he could. Perhaps he should have driven a bigger vehicle, that position looks uncomfortable.

"It’s too late for keeping my friend from feeling attached to you, Citra. That ship sailed weeks ago when she decided you were worth protecting from the Duskpaw and worth waiting for. Don’t let me decide you are not."

My throat felt like I’d swallowed a stone and my hands both straightened either tail of my hair. Vrika was making a sound in my soul, somewhere between an embarrassed whine and an irritated growl, that continued on until the stocky man offered his hand to help me from the car. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

> So distracted by silly words, I let him walk all the way around without reacting... <

When I took it, because he seemed like he would not move out of my way if I did not... it felt more like... solidarity than security. Like nothing I’d said or done in the car turned him against me. It may have even had the opposite effect!

Why can I not make enemies of these people by being this way? Is it the hair color? The sound of Helene’s voice? Just the fact that werewolves are not the same as shifters, exactly? It was so *easy* in my old body!

"I’ll be nearby if you need anything. Try to enjoy the evening."

"...Try to enjoy yours. I have a feeling it is ruined for the both of us."

I’d smelled her immediately - but it didn’t stop me from dramatically removing my coat, twirling it over one of his shoulders, and walking toward the VIP entrance underneath the paparazzi flashes that hid calculating looks.

And that did not hide the hostile gaze of an auburn haired werewolf standing near the doorway. Victoria Whitecrest was either attending or ambushing me. Either way, I intended to fully, completely, physically and metaphorically...

Shove the Rimecoat Beta in front of her curdled milk stench and walk away.