Chapter 71
Chapter 71
This fucking asshole sure is trying to get on my nerves.
The corridor smells like spilled wine, broken porcelain, and sweat that’s gone sour with entitlement.
He’s still standing there, swaying slightly, one knee bent wrong where I kicked it. Blood streaks his mouth, drying at the corner of his lips. His eyes are glassy and unfocused–but not enough to miss the looking at me. Like I’m a thing he didn’t get to break the first time and resents for surviving.
way he’s
My hands are clenched so tight my nails bite into my palms. I can feel my pulse in my wrists. In my throat. In my ears. The noise from the banquet hall drifts in–music, laughter, the scrape of chairs–too normal, too far removed from this pocket of rot.
“Take it back,” I say.
My voice is even. Calm. Command–level calm. The kind I learned when warriors twice my size tried to test me just to see if I’d flinch.
He laughs.
It’s ugly. Wet. Spittle flies from his mouth and lands on the floor between us.
“Why?” he slurs, rocking forward a step. I don’t move, but my weight shifts automatically, heels grounding. “Why would I take back what everyone’s already thinking p>
The alcohol on him is overwhelming now. Old wine and rotgut spirits layered over arrogance. He lifts his hand and gestures vaguely at my chest, missing me by a few inches. “You vanish for years. Presumed dead. Crawl back wearing the King’s protection like a crown. You really expect us to believe you didn’t earn it on your back p>
Something skitters near the column to my left. Fabric brushes stone. A breath that doesn’t belong to either of
I flick my gaze there for half a second.
Shadow. Banner. Someone standing very still.
Noted.
I look back at the elder.
“You are making a public accusation,” I say, tone clipped now. Sharper. “Against the consort of the Alpha King. Historically speaking, that ends with heads on spikes. Sometimes families too, if the King’s in a bad mood p>
He snorts. “Oh, please p>
“No,” I cut in. “You don’t get to interrupt me. You’ve done enough of that tonight p>
My jaw tightens as memory surfaces uninvited. Gold boxes delivered to Woodridge. Rare flowers that never
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grew on our land. Alaric standing in the courtyard, unashamed, offering alliances and promises like they were currency instead of chains.
“I turned him down,” I continue. “Every time. Publicly. Repeatedly. The omegas used to laugh about it because he kept showing up and I kept telling him no p>
1 tilt my head slightly. “You remember that, don’t you? Or were you already drunk back then too p>
His face twists. He steps closer again, finger jabbing toward me, actually hitting my collarbone this time. The contact snaps something thin inside my chest.
“You expect us to believe you controlled a King?” he sneers. “That he just… what, followed you around like a kicked puppy p>
“I expect you to believe I controlled myself,” I snap. “Which is more than I can say for you p>
His laugh turns meaner. Louder. “Doesn’t matter. You spread your legs eventually. That’s how women like you survive p>
My breathing changes. It’s shorter now. Harder. My wolf paces, claws scraping the inside of my ribs.
‘What a fucking bastard‘ Eris murmurs.
I don’t think before my hands move on their own.
I slap him.
The sound cracks through the corridor–sharp and unmistakable. His head snaps sideways, spit flying, body listing before he catches himself against the wall.
For one heartbeat, everything freezes.
Then he slowly turns his face back toward me, cheek already flushing red. He grins.
“See?” he says. “Temper like a whore’s too p>
The word hits harder than his hand ever could.
“You fucked your way back into power,” he continues, voice rising, confidence fed by the echo of his own. cruelty. “On your knees. On your back. Probably begged for it p>
Another slap comes fast.
Too fast. But not from me.
His palm connects with my cheek in a burst of white heat. My head jerks to the side, feet skidding a half–step across the stone. Pain blooms, hot and immediate, ringing in my skull.
I don’t fall.
I hiss through my teeth as I taste blood from my mouth, eyes flashing gold as my wolf surges forward,
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furious. He must be getting too comfortable being in a secluded place.
I shove him hard in the chest. He stumbles back, colliding with a broken table leg, snarling as he regains his balance.
My growl isn’t loud, but it’s deep. The kind that makes prey rethink its life choices.
He growls back, instinct answering instinct, shoulders squaring as if he’s forgotten–conveniently–who the fuck I am.
Then someone steps out of the shadows.
Leather boots. Familiar stance. A presence I know down to the marrow of my bones.
Wade.
He emerges from behind the column, face carved into something neutral that makes my stomach drop harder than the slap did. He’s been there. The whole time. Watching. Listening.
My focus breaks for half a second.
That’s all it takes.
I don’t see the elder’s hand coming.
I flinch, eyes closing on reflex—
-and the impact… never lands.
A concussive bang explodes through the wing, rattling the banners overhead. Stone dust rains down. The elder is yanked off his feet like he weighs nothing, his body slamming into the wall hard enough to spiderweb the plaster. The sound knocks the breath out of my lungs.
Alaric is there.
One second the space is empty. The next, he’s got the elder fisted by the front of his robes, holding him suspended against the cracked wall. Not pinning–displaying. His feet dangle inches above the floor, boots scraping uselessly.
Alaric’s eyes are molten gold.
Not glowing. Burning gold. It’s his wolf now.
His shoulders are wider than they were a heartbeat ago, posture wrong in a way that makes my wolf press forward, alert and sharp. The air smells like iron and ozone and that deep, feral heat that only comes right before blood spills.
“Say it again,” Alaric says.
His voice isn’t loud. It doesn’t need to be. It vibrates through the stone under my feet, through my ribs. His wolf rides every syllable, heavy and dominant, a pressure that makes lesser wolves want to bow.
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The elder chokes, hands scrabbling at Alaric’s wrist. “I–I didn’t–my King–please p>
Alaric leans in until their foreheads almost touch. “Repeat what you said to my mate p>
That’s when the elder breaks.
“I’m sorry,” he gasps, words tumbling over each other. Blood runs from his mouth, streaking his chin, dripping onto his chest. “I misspoke. I was drunk. I didn’t mean it–please p>
Alaric’s grip tightens. I hear fabric tear.
“Funny,” Alaric murmurs, head tilting. “You seemed very sure a minute ago p>
Footsteps pound in from the corridor.
Cassian skids into the space, weapon already half–drawn, eyes sharp as blades. He scans fast–elder pinned, Alaric half–shifted, debris everywhere–then his gaze snaps to me.
“Are you hurt p>
I nod once. It’s automatic. My head is buzzing, cheek still hot where the slap landed, but I’m upright. Breathing.
Cassian exhales through his teeth, jaw tightening. He reaches for my wrist, grip firm, grounding. “Then let him kill the bastard. He almost hit you again p>
“I know,” I say.
I gently pry Cassian’s fingers off me. Not yanking. Not fighting. Just… removing. My voice stays even. “Let go p>
Cassian hesitates, then does.
I step forward.
The closer I get, the louder Alaric’s wolf gets in my head–not words, not exactly, but intent. Possession. Rage. The instinct to tear and end and make an example out of anyone who dares.
I stop right in front of him.
Close enough that I can feel the heat rolling off his body. Close enough that the elder’s panicked breaths hit my face.
“Alaric,” I say.
He doesn’t look at me.
I lift both hands and cup his face anyway, thumbs pressing into the hard line of his jaw. I force his attention down. “Look at me p>
For a second, he fights it. His grip on the elder tightens again, muscles flexing like he’s seconds from ripping him in half.
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Chapter 71
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I adjust my stance. Plant my feet. My thumbs move just slightly, pressing where I know it anchors him.
“Hey,” I say, low and steady. “It’s me p>
His eyes flicker, Gold churns, flashes red beneath it.
I lean in, forehead nearly brushing his. I don’t plead. I don’t soften. I don’t ask.
“Put him down p>
A growl rumbles in his chest. His wolf pushes back hard, testing me, challenging. “No!” He growls. The elder whimpers.
I don’t break eye contact. I change tactics.
I tilt my head, voice dropping, quieter now–just for him. “Please, baby p>
His breathing stutters. Maybe this is me being a whore too.
Oh come on, please work.
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