CHAPTER 48: SOMETHING DIFFERENT

What on earth was he doing?

I froze at the entrance of the greenhouse, unsure whether I was in reality or imagining things.

Of all the things I had expected to see in the Undercity, this was not it.

The Alpha of Undercity, the man feared like a monster across every pack, was crouched in the soil with his sleeves rolled up, dirt clinging to his boots and gloves.

He was doing some... gardening.

The thought alone was so absurd I almost laughed, but my throat was too tight.

My lips parted, caught between disbelief and horror, as I tried to process the sight.

Rion Morrigan didn’t belong here among flowers.

And yet, somehow, he did.

He was among the thorns. A huge, flashy thorn.

His boots were sleek black leather, but dirt dulled their shine near the toes. His trousers clung to long legs, tailored but marred faintly at the knees with smudges.

His white shirt, embroidered faintly with golden linings at the cuffs and collar, was streaked with some traces of soil, though it did nothing to diminish the authority with which he wore it. The sleeves were rolled to his elbows, exposing forearms marked by sinewed strength.

His hair, neatly combed back the night before, was messy, strands of dark silver falling into his face.

"Our princess is awake," Raye’s bright voice broke through my daze.

My head turned sharply to her, and I leaned in, lowering my voice. "I thought you were leading me to breakfast."

"Yes," Raye said with a grin. She gestured toward the far side of the greenhouse. "Breakfast is there."

I followed her hand. Beneath an arch of blooming vines, a round table gleamed.

White cloth draped over it, weighed down with silver platters. Steam curled up from fresh bread, fruits gleamed like jewels, meats shone with glaze. The spread looked like something out of a dream.

"Alpha wants to have breakfast with you," Raye said simply.

My brows furrowed. I looked back at him, still bent among the blossoms. "He looks busy though."

His voice carried smoothly across the greenhouse. "Want to join me here?"

He lifted his head then, lips tugging into a smirk that made something in my chest twist.

Before I could find words, Raye clapped my shoulder lightly. "I’ll leave you to it."

And she was gone, her footsteps fading quickly until I was left standing alone, trapped in this strange, beautiful place with the last person I’d want to be alone with.

I turned back to him, my brows pulling together.

Gardening.

Of all things.

I had thought his hands didn’t touch dirt unless it was blood of the people he killed.

He rose slowly from his crouch, unfolding to his full height with the same predatory grace I had seen in him last night.

He terrified me then, and he didn’t look any less terrifying now.

His gaze flicked toward me. "What do you think of my flowers?"

My eyes swept the place, unable to take everything in at once.

The greenhouse stretched wide like a cathedral, its vaulted arches cradling a jungle of blossoms. They spilled from every corner, climbing, twisting, blooming in such profusion it almost hurt to look.

Bright flowers dotted the beds here and there—bursts of gold, pale blue, and soft pink—but they were only accents, fleeting sparks among the deeper shades that dominated the space.

Most of the blooms were dark, and they thrived as though the shadows favored them.

Bloodred petals spread thick and velvety, their veins pulsing faintly with a darker hue. Indigo blossoms curled outward like stars on the verge of collapse, their tips glowing faintly, flickering like embers refusing to die. There were violets rimmed with silver light, catching in the dim glow as though they drank it greedily.

Some flowers bore heavy droplets of dew that gleamed black in the light, sliding slow down the curves of their petals, staining the soil beneath.

Vines thick as my arm coiled around the iron beams, climbing higher, their thorns glistening as though freshly honed.

They arched overhead like serpents woven into the very frame of the dome.

The air was heavy with scent. Sweet at first, cloying, intoxicating, but beneath it lingered a sharpness that bit at the back of my throat.

Metallic. Like iron. Like blood. It clung to me, sinking into my lungs until I felt lightheaded.

And yet...

The flowers looked more alive than any I’d ever seen. More vivid. More eager to bloom, as if the soil itself fed them something richer than the sun ever could.

What nourishes them?

Were corpses buried here, hidden beneath the black soil, their decay feeding these blossoms until they burst into colors too rich to belong to nature?

Was that why they bloomed with such hunger, such impossible beauty?

The question burned on my tongue, but I bit it back.

Yet when his lips curled faintly with such apparent mischief, I knew he had read it all over my face.

"I don’t usually invite anyone here," he said, unfolding a pristine handkerchief from his pocket after taking off the gloves. He wiped his hands. "But since it’s the first day since you woke up, I thought I’d make an exception."

He walked toward the table, unhurried, composed. Even here, in a greenhouse, he moved like a predator certain of his dominion.

He pulled out a chair and sat, his posture relaxed yet commanding.

Then his gaze lifted, and he nodded to the empty chair across from him.

"Sit."

The order irked me but I obeyed. I slipped into the chair, stiff-backed, my palms pressed against my thighs. My heart thudded, uneven and loud.

He leaned back slightly, raising one hand to rake his fingers through his disheveled hair. Strands clung stubbornly to his forehead, damp with sweat. His eyes held mine, unblinking, too steady.

And then—

My breath caught when I noticed something different.

His eyes were no longer red.

Not the dark, blood-colored hue that had unsettled me since the first moment I saw him.

No, his eyes were sea-green. Clear, vivid, startling as water catching sunlight. They glimmered unnaturally bright in the shadowed greenhouse.

They looked familiar.

"Your eyes..." I muttered, not blinking. "How did they change color?"