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141. The Burnt Offering
Last Updated:
2025-06-01 04:57:12
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Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 148. More Than Pretend
[ALEC]The sun is already high by the time we reach the village square. The whole place is packed for the Saltfire gathering.Bunting strung between trees flutters overhead. The scent of roasted meat, fresh honey cakes, and spiced cider thickens the air. Music drifts from somewhere near the long tables. Children run barefoot, trailing behind them the ribbons tied to their wrists.It should feel foreign. I should feel like a stranger here.But Kara’s hand finds mine as we step into the crowd, and then I forget I don’t belong.Her fingers squeeze mine once, firmly. I glance sideways to find her already looking at me, a faint smile tugging at her mouth, those blue eyes glistening.She’s beautiful. Even here, in a simple linen dress and worn boots. Especially here. Like she was carved from sunlight, and wind, and stubbornness.I don’t deserve her.But if I think that too long, I’ll ruin the day.So I smile back and let her tug me forward, into the thick of things.Someone calls, “There th
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 147. Pressed Into The Earth
[KARA/RUELLE]I light the stub of a candle and place it beside the window. I watch the shadows stretch across the mud walls like silent witnesses.And I pray.I pray to the Moon Goddess for Magnus, for my mother, for whatever pieces of my old life still remain.And then I look at the clay pot.The wolf painted on it looks nothing like me.But I know it’s me.While Alec’s gaze is away, I reach for the moonroot tonic in my apron and mix it with water. I focus on how bitter it feels against my tongue, and try not to think of what I’m actually doing. The candle burns low.I slide onto the bedding beside Alec. He’s staring up at the thatched roof, his forehead creased in deep thought. Laying down on his arm, I curl around him, pulling the woolen blanket over us. This right now is the most comfortable I know I can ever be. But the feeling doesn’t last. “There was something else,” he says with a sigh. “News about… a pack.”I glance at him. “A pack?”“Werewolves. They’ve been attacking vi
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 146. If They Knew
[KARA/RUELLE]The sky outside is bruised with purple and gold while I’m crouched near the cooking fire, stirring stew thick with root vegetables and dried fish with the wooden spoon Alec whittled for me last week. The flames warm my hands, and the scent clings to my clothes. It’s the kind of quiet I’ve come to crave. The kind that doesn’t demand anything from me.The door creaks open behind me.I don’t need to turn. His footsteps are familiar now, lighter when he’s tired, slower when he’s thinking. Still, I glance over my shoulder and smile, letting it reach my eyes.“Hey,” I murmur.He smiles back, and my heart aches the way it always does when he looks at me like that—like I’m still the only thing in this world he’s sure of.“Hey,” he returns, stepping inside, wind-tousled and sun-marked from the docks. “You’re cooking again?”“I’m learning,” I say, lifting the spoon like a weapon. “You’ll survive.”He grins, then rummages in his bag. “I brought something.”I hold out my hand.He al
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 145. The Long Way Home
[KARA/RUELLE] “Sapphire eyes like that and a tongue like honey. Are we sure you weren’t born to a queen?”I laugh, but my stomach drops. “You flatter me too much.”“No, no,” she says, tapping the rim of her mortar. “You’ve got grace in your bones. Even your voice sounds like it once echoed in halls of gold.”Not anymore.I shake my head, stepping inside, letting the warm smell of herbs and something vaguely sweet wash over me. “I was bred in a village like this. My mother was a weaver.”The lie rolls off my tongue with less hesitation now. I’ve learned to shape my vowels like them, to speak with the gentle cadence of the coast folk. The first month was hardest, masking the way I moved, carried myself, and the words I used. But necessity makes a fine teacher.It was difficult to sleep on straw-stuffed bedding after years spent in silk-draped feather beds. Harder still to find satisfaction in bread, root stew, salted fish, and dried berries when I once dined on roasted fowls, spiced sq
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 144. The Seamstress and the Stranger
[KARA/RUELLE]The wooden door of the cottage room creaks shut behind Alec, and I stand there for a moment, listening to his footsteps crunch over the frost-laced dirt path. I don’t move until the sound fades completely—until I’m sure he’s gone far enough that he won’t turn back and catch the way I sag against the wooden frame.It’s always like this in the morning. I feel a little empty on the inside every time he leaves.Six months ago, we washed up on this forgotten shoreline, bruised and breathless, lucky to be alive. The Goddess should’ve taken us. The Cursed Gulf tried to. But Alec saved me when I’d given up and decided to let the darkness and cold swallow me. He’d held onto me, and we’d drifted ashore. And then I’d slaughtered every soldier who had desired to take me back to Uncle Eldric. I remember how Alec didn’t hesitate—how, even with fear in his eyes after what he’d seen me do, he stayed close as we stumbled upon the fishing village nestled between cliffs and evergreens. I
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 143. Borrowed From A Dream
[ALEC]I wake up feeling hollow on the inside. Like a part of me is absent, but I can’t even remember what it is. This is not a new feeling. I carry it with me during every waking moment. It’s a part of me now, something I’ve accepted I can’t shed. I’ve felt this way every day for the last seven months—ever since I first woke up on the ship that took me from Caelondor. There’s not much I remember from before that, other than flashes. Faces that may or may not be real. Names that feel foreign and yet are somewhere familiar deep inside my mind. My life before that moment feels cloaked. It existed, but I can no longer see it. Beside me, Kara stirs on the straw-stuffed bedding, turning to face me. Her eyes are closed, the strands of her dark brown hair falling like a curtain across her forehead. I reach out and push them aside, my fingers barely grazing her skin. It is always soft beneath my fingertips, and it always creates an overwhelming feeling of desire inside me. I have to fight
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