Ruthless Alpha, and his Curvy Saint-Chapter 48

Lyra’s POV

I was humming as I pushed open the door to the room I shared with Sera.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d hummed. Couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this strange combination of hope and terror and genuine excitement about...

I stopped dead.

Sera was already awake, standing in front of our shared mirror in nothing but her shift, hair partially pinned, examining her reflection with the critical eye of a general surveying a battlefield.

"Where are you going this early?" I asked, moving toward the small trunk where I’d stored my traveling things.

"None of your business," Sera replied without looking at me, her attention focused on adjusting a pin. "Father wants me presentable for..."

She turned.

Her eyes went comically wide.

Her jaw literally dropped.

I’d forgotten I was still wearing the burgundy dress. Angel’s burgundy dress, altered and gathered and transformed into something that actually made me look like I had a figure instead of the straight lines I’d always loved.

"What," Sera said slowly, "are you wearing?"

"A dress." I kept my voice light, casual, moving toward the trunk. "Obviously."

"That’s not your dress."

"Very observant."

"Is there..." She paused, her expression shifting from shock to something more calculating. "Is there a masquerade ball I wasn’t informed about? Some entertainment Lord Merrick planned?"

"No ball."

"Then why are you dressed like..." She gestured vaguely at all of me, her lip curling. "Like that? Did you steal that from the fat girl? Are you trying to look as ridiculous as she does?"

My hands stilled on the trunk lid.

"Her name," I said quietly, not looking up, "is Angel."

"Whatever. Answer the question. Why are you wearing her clothes?"

"Why do you care?"

"Because you look insane, Lyra. You look like you’re playing dress-up in someone else’s wardrobe." Sera’s voice took on a mocking edge. "Or wait... is this some kind of charity thing? Are you trying to make the fat girl feel better about herself by pretending her clothes are fashionable?"

I found the sash, pulled it from the trunk, and stood.

"You’re right," I said, meeting her eyes in the mirror. "I am wearing Angel’s dress. She lent it to me. She helped me alter it. She spent the better part of an hour making sure I looked presentable." I paused. "Which is more than you’ve done for me in years."

Sera’s expression flickered.

"Since when do you need help looking presentable?"

"Since always, Sera. I’ve just been too proud to ask." I moved toward the door. "And for your information, Angel is kinder and more generous than you’ve ever been.

I left before she could respond.

*****

Angel’s POV

Lyra returned slightly breathless, her cheeks flushed, but she was still humming.

"Got it," she announced, holding up the burgundy sash triumphantly.

"Perfect." I took it from her and got to work.

The transformation, when it was complete, wasn’t perfect. Up close, you could see where I’d gathered fabric, where the dress didn’t quite sit the way it would on someone with actual curves.

But from a distance?

It looked real enough.

We sat on the edge of my bed afterward, both of us staring at Lyra’s reflection in the mirror across the room, neither quite ready to break whatever strange spell the morning had created.

"Can I ask you something?" I said finally.

Lyra smiled. "Yeah... go ahead."

"What do you hope to achieve with this?" I gestured at the dress, at her carefully arranged hair. "I mean, you know Merrick won’t actually be fooled by clever tailoring, right? He’ll see exactly what this is."

Lyra was quiet for a long moment.

"I know," she said finally. "I’m not stupid. I know padding and gathering can’t actually change my body." She twisted her hands in her lap. "But the thing is, Angel - Merrick hasn’t looked at me once since we arrived. Not once. I’ve tried to convince myself otherwise, tried to interpret every glance as interest, but the truth is obvious. He looks at you. He looks at the serving girls with curves. He even looked at that warrior woman with the broad hips who was serving last night."

She paused, her voice dropping.

"But me? I’m invisible to him. And I thought... if I could just get his attention, even for a moment, then maybe I could make him actually see me. And once he sees me, really sees me, maybe I could..." She shrugged helplessly. "Maybe I could try to gain weight. Actually commit to it. If it meant having a chance."

I stared at her.

"You’d change your body for a man you just met?"

"Wouldn’t you?" She looked at me directly. "If changing something about yourself meant the difference between being invisible and being seen - wouldn’t you at least consider it?"

The question hit harder than it should have.

Because yes.

God, yes.

I’d spent days now considering Sheena’s weight-loss herbs. Imagining what it would be like to be slim, to be the kind of woman men actually wanted.

Even knowing Merrick preferred curves - even with that knowledge sitting warm in my chest - part of me still wondered if I’d be better off smaller.

Old habits. Old shame.

"I suppose I would," I admitted quietly.

Lyra nodded, like she’d expected that answer.

"Besides," she continued, her voice lighter now, "I really do like him. Merrick, I mean. The way he talks, the way he moves, how confident he is in exactly who he is. He doesn’t apologize for his preferences or his position or anything. He just... exists, fully himself, and I find that incredibly attractive."

"What about Uriel?" I asked before I could stop myself.

Lyra’s expression shifted - something complicated crossing her face.

"I did like him," she said. "Or thought I did. He’s gorgeous, obviously. And there was something about the way he carried himself that made me think..." She trailed off. "But he made it very clear he wasn’t interested."

I blinked. "He did?"

"Yes. Very clearly." Lyra laughed, but there was no humor in it. "At the waterfall that morning. When I followed him. When I undressed and tried to..." She stopped, her cheeks coloring. "Well. Let’s just say he could not have been less interested if I’d been a piece of furniture."

My mind was reeling.

Uriel had rejected Lyra?

Uriel, who I’d been convinced was interested in her, who I’d watched ride beside the travelers, who I’d assumed preferred women like her - he’d actually turned her down?

"I had no idea," I whispered.

"Why would you?" Lyra shrugged. "It’s not exactly something I advertised. But yes. He made it abundantly clear that I wasn’t his type. That he was interested in someone else." She paused meaningfully. "Someone who definitely wasn’t me."

"What about Sera?" I asked. "Maybe he..."

"Angel." Lyra’s voice was patient but firm, like she was explaining something obvious to a child. "Are you blind or just extremely naive?"

"What?"

"Uriel likes you."

The words hung in the air between us.

"He doesn’t..."

"He absolutely does. The way he watches you, the way he positions himself near you constantly, how he literally shot a man who was drowning you." Lyra ticked items off on her fingers. "The way he looks at you when you’re not looking at him. The way his entire body tenses when Merrick gets too close. Angel, everyone can see it except apparently you."

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

"I thought..." I tried to organize my thoughts. "I always felt like maybe he was being kind to me. Friendly. But my low self-esteem wouldn’t let me believe it was actually... more than that."

"It’s definitely more than that."

The knowledge sat strange and warm in my chest.

Uriel liked me.

Not Lyra. Not Sera. Not the beautiful travelers with perfect figures.

Me.

"I need to get dressed," I said abruptly, standing.

Lyra understood immediately, moving to help me without being asked.

She selected a deep blue dress from the wardrobe - one of Merrick’s gifts - and helped me into it with the same care I’d shown her. The dress fit perfectly, hugging my curves without being scandalous, making me feel elegant instead of exposed.

"You look beautiful," Lyra said simply.

"So do you."

We smiled at each other.

Then a knock at the door interrupted the moment.

"Ladies? Breakfast is ready. Lord Merrick has requested everyone’s presence in the east dining room."

"Ready?" I asked Lyra.

She took a deep breath, straightened her spine exactly the way I’d taught her, and nodded.

"Can I..." She hesitated. "Would it be alright if I tried to sit near Merrick? At breakfast?"

"Of course..."

The door opened before I could finish.

Uriel stood there, already dressed for the day, his dark hair still slightly damp from washing, his expression brightening immediately when he saw me.

"Angel," he said warmly. Then, noticing Lyra, "Lyra. You both look lovely this morning."

But his eyes were on me.

Only me.

"May I escort you to breakfast?" he asked, offering his arm.

I glanced at Lyra, who was trying very hard not to look disappointed.

"Actually..I started.

But Uriel had already stepped closer, his presence somehow filling the doorway, making it impossible to refuse without being obviously rude.

"I insist," he said softly. "There are things I’d like to discuss with you. About yesterday."

About yesterday.

About Merrick.

About the almost-kiss on the walkway.

"Of course," I heard myself say, taking his offered arm.

Lyra mouthed It’s fine and gestured for us to go ahead.

So I did.

Uriel led me down the corridor, his hand warm against my arm, and I was hyperaware of every point of contact between us.

He liked me.

The knowledge made everything feel different. New. Terrifying in the best possible way.

******

The east dining room was smaller than the great hall we’d eaten in last night, more intimate, with windows overlooking the rain-soaked gardens. A single long table had been set for breakfast, with Lord Merrick already seated at the head.

He looked up as we entered, his eyes immediately finding me.

Then sliding to Uriel’s hand on my arm.

His expression remained pleasant, but something flickered in his silver eyes.

"Good morning, Angel. Uriel." He gestured to the seats. "Please, join me."

Uriel led me to a chair directly across from Merrick’s position and held it out for me with perfect courtesy.

I sat, and he took the seat beside me.

Claiming territory.

Making a statement.

This one is mine.

Lyra entered moments later, her chin high, her borrowed dress swishing beautifully around her legs. She moved directly to the seat beside Merrick without hesitation, sitting beside him.

"Lord Merrick," she said warmly. "Thank you for hosting us. Your castle is absolutely stunning."

Merrick smiled at her politely. "You’re very kind. I’m glad you’re enjoying your stay."

But his eyes had already moved back to me.

Then Sera swept in.

And I had to press my lips together to keep from gasping.

She looked like she was going to a ball, not breakfast. Her face was painted with so much make up that she barely looked human - rouge on her cheeks, kohl around her eyes, her lips stained an unnatural red. Her dress was cut scandalously low, displaying assets I didn’t think she actually possessed. Her hair was arranged in elaborate curls that must have taken hours.

She looked like a doll.

A beautiful, slightly frightening doll.

She took the seat on Merrick’s other side - the only remaining chair near him - with a smile that showed too many teeth.

"Good morning, my lord," she purred. "I hope you slept well."

"Very well, thank you."

Sera leaned forward slightly, ensuring her décolletage was on full display. "I must say, your castle is magnificent. Perhaps you could show me around? I’d love a private tour."

Across from me, Lyra’s smile had frozen in place.