Chapter 43
Chapter 43
My stomach plummets like a stone in water.
Wade.
He’s right there.
The hallway suddenly feels too narrow, like the walls are inching closer, trapping me between Camilla’s smug stare and the ghost of my past. His scent drifts first–pine needles and rain on cold steel. Familiar. Sharp. It slices through the air and straight into my chest before I can block it.
My heart slams against my ribs. If he looks up–if his wolf catches even a hint of mine–it’s over.
Camilla tilts her head, all sugary innocence with a predator’s eyes. She senses the shift, like a vulture circling a carcass. “What’s wrong?” she coos, loud enough to echo.
Bitch.
I duck my head, deepen my limp, and pull the blanket of shame tighter around me like I’m just some random concubine sneaking out after a wild night with the King. If I can sell this performance, I might live to see
tomorrow.
Wade’s eyes narrow. His gait slows. He sniffs. The hair at the back of my neck stands up. His wolf brushes against mine faintly, a sharp graze across my throat that drags every memory I’ve buried screaming back to the surface—his commands, his betrayal, my blood on dungeon floors.
No.
I spin to face Camilla, blocking my profile from him. “You’re really loud for someone with no actual power,” I mutter through clenched teeth, forcing a fake, flirty laugh as if she’s telling me some scandalous secret.
She sees right through it. Of course she does. Her lips curl. “Why so shy now?” she purrs, deliberately louder.
Wade’s footsteps quicken. Fuck.
I bolt.
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The hallway stretches endlessly ahead as my bare feet slap against marble. His voice follows, a command buried in it-“Stop!“–that once would’ve made me freeze mid–step. My muscles twitch, instincts screaming to obey. I grit my teeth and force myself forward, rounding the corner into a narrow servant’s passage. The air is cooler here, the scent of linen and wood polish replacing the heavy perfume of the main hall.
I shove open the door to a storage room and slip inside, my breath coming fast. The sound of his boots echoes down the passage, closer. He’s hunting.
I glance around–no windows, no exits. Just shelves, crates, and a wall that looks suspiciously… uneven? Before I can check, a strong hand shoots out from the shadows, clamps over my mouth, and yanks me backwards.
My spine slams against a solid chest. A panel clicks shut behind us, plunging everything into a narrow. hidden
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Chapter 43
corridor.
My scream dies against his palm.
Alaric.
“Well,” he drawls, voice low and sinful, “if it isn’t my runaway queen p>
I halt, scowl already forming. “Don’t call me that p>
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He pushes off the wall, moving toward me like a predator closing in on prey. “What should I call you, then? The woman who tried to sneak out after pretending to fuck me so well the entire pack is still gossiping p>
Heat crawls up my neck. “You’re insufferable p>
“And yet,” he murmurs, stopping right in front of me, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his gaze, “you keep ending up in my hallways, barefoot and breathless p>
I refuse to step back. “I was leaving p>
“Clearly,” he says, eyes flicking down to my feet again. “With no shoes. In my house. Past my guards. I’d love to hear how that was going to work out for you, little wolf p>
Then I hear it–his breath against my ear. Slow. Controlled. Dangerous. “Where are you?!” We both hear Wade’s voice from the halls.
Shit.
“You’re getting reckless,” Alaric murmurs, his voice a low growl that vibrates against my back.
Heat floods my skin instantly. He’s flush against me, his body radiating warmth like a live wire. His hand stays over my mouth, his other arm banded across my waist, holding me still as if I weigh nothing.
Outside, Wade’s growl rolls down the hallway. He’s close.
I freeze, every nerve on edge, pressed against the King like prey hiding behind the predator. The space is tight -every rise of his chest matches mine. His lips are so close to my ear that his breath ghosts down my neck, hot and steady.
My throat feels dry. “If he sees me p>
“He won’t,” Alaric cuts in, voice suddenly lethal. “I’ll handle it p>
“And if he does? ” I press.
He stops pacing, turns back to me, and closes the distance so fast it knocks the air out of me. His hand comes up to cradle the back of my neck, not rough but firm enough that I can feel the strength coiled beneath the surface.
“Then I’ll make sure the last thing he ever sees is me ripping his throat out p>
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Chapter 43
My pulse isn’t just panicked anymore.
“D–don’t say that p>
He leans closer. “You really can’t stay out of trouble, can you?” His tone shifts–less reprimanding, more cocky, like he’s enjoying this.
Felbow him hard in the ribs.
He doesn’t even flinch. His quiet chuckle vibrates against my spine, the bastard.
Wade’s footsteps stop right outside the wall we’re hiding behind. His breathing is audible, heavy, feral. I bite down on Alaric’s palm in pure panic and he tightens his hold, pinning me even closer.
My eyes meet his in the dim light seeping through the cracks of the wall. Amber–gold, sharp and focused. The tension spikes, thick and tangible.
And then he kisses me.
It’s not gentle. Not even close. It’s sudden, violent, like he’s marking me, claiming me. His mouth slams against mine, hard enough that I taste blood and panic at once, swallowing the startled sound that escapes me before I can stop it. His tongue pries, demanding, dragging, teasing in a way that’s maddening. My hands fly to his chest, trying to shove him back, but he laughs low in his throat–rough, amused, full of that dangerous control he wields so effortlessly.
One hand grips my jaw, fingers digging in, forcing me to stay still, lips parted and exposed. The other clamps around my waist, pulling me flush to him, hips pressing into mine with unrelenting heat. He’s everywhere— his body a furnace, every muscle coiled and taut, his heat searing my skin through clothes. I can feel it in my stomach, in my thighs, in the shallow, ragged pull of my breaths.
My mind screams—what the fuck is happening?-but my body betrays me, responding anyway, shivering under his touch, trembling with a need I didn’t know I had. My nails rake down his chest, leaving trails across the hard planes of his body, but he only growls, that low, dark, animal sound vibrating against my skull.
He tilts his head, shoving me against the cold wall, and my back hits it with a jolt that makes my knees wobble. He doesn’t let up. He doesn’t give me space. His teeth graze my bottom lip, and I gasp, catching the sting, and he laughs–harsh, guttural, possessing.
“Gods,” he breathes against my mouth, voice rough, dangerous. “You’re taste so fucking sweet p>
I push. I struggle. I hit his chest with open palms, desperate to get some air, some space. But he presses harder, grinding into me, the heat of his length rubs on my stomach. His tongue slides past mine again, invading, tasting, owning. My stomach twists, my chest heaves, my heart thunders like it’s trying to escape my ribs.
Everything about him is fire—his hands, his mouth, his weight. Everything about me is unraveling, melting, melting, shivering in the delicious terror of it. I bite down on his shoulder instinctively, just enough to leave a mark, and he snarls, claws of a wolf hidden in human skin.
“Fuck, Sorin…” he growls, teeth grazing my neck, leaving that hot, bruising trail that makes me shiver violently. “Don’t fight me… not now p>
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His hand leaves my waist and slides lower, dragging down my side until his fingers hook behind my thigh. He hikes it up against his hip, forcing me to balance against him.
“Ah p>
The sudden shift knocks a breath out of me, and he takes it–mouth crushing mine again before I can protest.
His palm slides along the underside of my thigh, fingers pressing into muscle as he pushes higher, rougher. Heat spikes under my skin when his hand drifts inward, tracing slow lines along my cloth–covered pussy. My breath hitches. My body tenses, but he doesn’t stop.
Shit shit shit.
He shifts closer, wedging himself between my legs fully. I can feel his cock as hard as a rock rubbing on my wet flesh. My panties are soaked and I don’t know if I can hold my self back if I start rubbing myself onto him. His mouth leaves mine to drag down my neck, biting just enough to make me jolt. His fingers flex against my inner thigh, holding me open while his hips grind into me, the friction sharp and maddening through our clothes.
I twist against him, caught between shoving and clinging, but he follows every movement, controlling the pace, the space–everything. The wall digs into my back; his heat consumes the rest. My head tips back when his teeth scrape over my collarbone, a sound escaping me that I don’t even recognize.
I want to scream. I want to push him off. I want to run. But every instinct in my body–the heat, the ache, the shattering need—is screaming the opposite. I’m dizzy, flushed, trembling, soaked in my own arousal and fear.
And yet, somewhere deep, I know he’s not stopping–not until he owns every inch of me. And the thought, infuriatingly, makes my body quake with need I can’t control.
Through the narrow slits in the panel, Wade catches sight of us. But all he sees is Alaric’s broad back and the unmistakable scene of his Alpha King making out with someone like he intends to devour her.
Alaric pulls away just enough to growl, “Leave p>
The command rumbles out of him, low and primal.
Wade hesitates for a fraction, then backs off, footsteps fading reluctantly down the hallway.
Only when silence settles does Alaric finally ease his grip.
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