Chapter 155 The Artist’s Choice

    bLyana’s /bPOV

    32

    Finished.

    “This painting is one of Darian’s. He never sells easily,” I said quietly to Melina as my eyes caught sight of a white–bearded old werewolf approaching, cane in hand, stride steady despite

    his age.

    I recognized him–Darian, a living legend in the world of ancient artwork restoration and creation.

    His works were beyond priceless. No amount of money could simply buy one.

    Melina clearly knew his name too. Her eyes lit up with excitement as she stared at the painting, practically itching to take it home.

    The white–bearded man walked up just as the gallery director rushed over to greet him with fawning politeness.

    Darian only gave a curt nod, then, without a word, reached up and took the painting off the wall, turning to leave.

    I saw the desire in Melina’s eyes and immediately stepped forward, blocking him. “Sir, how much for this painting? I’ll buy it.”

    He frowned and looked me up and down with a cold gaze. “You can’t afford it,” he replied tly.

    Then he tried to walk around me.

    That stung. Hard.

    I was the Alpha of Smoke Pack—what couldn’t I afford?

    “Name a priceb, /bsir,” I said, face stiff, standing firmly in his path.

    He snorted, his eyes full of disdain. “Little girl, you reek of money. Your scent is drenched in power. If I sold this to you, my reputation would be ruined. Go ruin someone else’s work.”

    His words hit like a p. Even with my thick skin, it burned being humiliated in front of Melina like that.

    I red bat /bhimb, /bcold fury in my eyes as a heavy silence filled the air.

    His

    itb?/bb” /b

    gaze bswept /bover the crowd… thennded on Leslie. He narrowed his eyes “You. Want to bbuy /b

    b15:49 /bbWed/bb, /bbSep /b17

    Chapter 155 The Artist’s Choice

    :

    bLeslie /bpressed her lips together and answered tly, “No. I reek of money too.”

    That made him chuckle, a crooked, mocking smile pulling at his lips.

    b32 /b

    Finished

    I wasn’t giving up. My voice dropped even colder. “Why won’t you sell it to me, but you’re asking her?”

    “Because she’s pretty!” he shot back without hesitation,pletely shameless.

    I was so furious I couldn’t even speak. I stood frozen, ring at him.

    Melina, clearly anxious not to miss out on the painting, kept throwing Leslie desperate nces.

    Leslie hesitated a moment before finally speaking. “How much? I’ll buy it.”

    Her tone was calm, but I knew she was doing it for Melina’s sake. After all, that was Eric’s mother–it wouldn’t look good to turn her down.

    “Little girl,” Darian said, raising a brow, “I sold one like this to the Lionheart Court in Ostovia for ten million credits. How much are you offering?”

    I froze.

    Ten million? This piece belonged in a royal vault.

    Melina looked stunned too. She clearly hadn’t expected the price to be that outrageous.

    Leslie raised her brows, casual and unbothered. “Then I’ll double it.”

    I nearly choked. She really said that?

    Darian blinked at her, clearly caught off guard, then scoffed. “How generous.”

    “You’re worth it,” Leslie replied with a breezy smile.

    He stood in silence for a few seconds, then gave a sharp snort. “Still not selling.” And he turned to leave.

    I couldn’t help but sneer. So much for Leslie’s charm.

    Melina, on the other hand, looked panicked, her eyes locked onto Darian’s back like she couldn’t let it go.

    And then-

    Leslie suddenly let out a sigh and called out loudly, “You’re really putting your student in an awkward position here…”

    Burn in the Alpha Princess’s Wrath

    Chapter 156 The Teacher’s Price

    Darian’s POV

    Finished

    Cane in hand, I turned with a huff, ready to storm out of that noisy exhibit hall–only to be stopped by a voice I knew too well.

    “Teacher?” Leslie’s tone wasced with exasperation, a little teasing, and far itoo /imuch familiarity. It tugged at something deep in my chest.

    I froze mid–step and turned back, squinting at her.

    Every werewolf present–Frost Pack’s Luna Melina, Smoke Pack’s Alpha Lyana, the crowd of gawkers–stood stunned. The air buzzed with startled pheromones.

    I fought the smile tugging at my lips, gave a gruff snort, and barked out a scolding tone. “Quitter. You don’t deserve to be my student.”

    i“/iiYou /iiliar/ii,/i” my wolf chuckled in my mind, smooth and rich like aged whiskey. i“/iiYou /iiproud /iiold /iibastard/ii–/iiyou’re /iioozing /iipride /iiand /iijoy/i. iAdmit /iiit/i. iYou’re /iiproud /iiof /iiher/ii, /iiold /iiman/i.”

    Of course I was.

    Leslie—that girl–was the most gifted student I’d ever taught in my life.

    Her soul shimmered like moonlight over water, and every stroke of her brush wasced with a spiritual rity that left you

    breathless.

    Her mother had dragged me from the far ends of the continent, iming her daughter had been born to paint.

    I taught her for six months, and her intuition made this old body of mine want to keep painting for a hundred more years.

    But what did she do?

    Ran off to be some housewife for a so–called fated mate, abandoning her brushes without a second thought!

    I smashed three bottles of whiskey over that tantrum. Cursed the heavens. My wolfughed at me like I was a grumpy pup.

    Leslie… My brightest star… dared to walk away from me.

    And now she wanted to buy one of my paintings?

    Chapter