Início / Werewolf / His Omega, His Punishment / Jealousy looks ugly on you, Clara.

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Jealousy looks ugly on you, Clara.

Autor: Bia
last update Última atualização: 2025-10-12 22:46:19

Clara's POV

The dawn light seeped through the heavy drapes, soft and pale, brushing over the tangled sheets that still smelled of lavender and iron. I lay still, my body aching in ways that went beyond the physical—deep into the marrow of my bones, where the bruises from Taehyung's unyielding grip had settled like permanent shadows. Every inch of me throbbed with the remnants of his "punishment," a word he wielded like a whip, cracking it over my skin until I bled submission. But submission wasn't surrender; not for me. Not yet.

Beside me, Taehyung slept—peaceful, unguarded, and almost heartbreakingly human. His dark hair fell across his forehead in disheveled waves, catching the faint golden hues of the morning sun. His lashes cast long shadows over his cheeks, and his lips—those same lips that had snarled curses and whispered venom just hours ago—were slightly parted, as if exhaling secrets he wouldn't share in the waking world. He looked younger like this, stripped of the alpha'
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  • His Omega, His Punishment    Why did I protect you?

    Taehyung's POV Clara's whisper sliced through the haze of my exhaustion like a silver blade, pulling me from the depths of my vigil. Her eyes, those piercing emeralds that had haunted my dreams long before I claimed her, fluttered open—hazy, unfocused, but alive. Gods, alive. The bond thrummed between us, a fragile lifeline pulsing with her returning strength, yet it felt strained, like a taut wire ready to snap. The room's herb-scented air felt thicker now, charged with the dawn's tentative light spilling through the windows, casting harsh shadows on her pale skin rather than gilding it softly. She looked so small in that bed, her body swathed in fresh linens, the salves glistening on her wounds like accusatory marks. My chest tightened, a vise of guilt and relief twisting until I could barely breathe, but her gaze met mine with none of the warmth I'd hoped for—only a glacial chill that sent a shiver down my spine. "Clara," I rasped, my voice rough from hours of silence, leaning f

  • His Omega, His Punishment    Fix this, Taehyung.

    Clara's POV Elara knelt beside us, her knees cracking softly as she positioned herself, her glowing hands hovering inches above the wounds. The air hummed with energy, a subtle vibration that made the hairs on my arms stand on end. "The bond will help—if it's strong enough," she murmured, her brow furrowing in concentration. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead despite the chill night air. "But alpha, her spirit's weak. The rite tonight, the chains, the constant tension... they've taken a toll. She's fighting not just the poison, but the weight of it all." Her eyes flicked to mine, sharp and questioning, as if she could see through the layers of deception I'd woven. The pack murmured around us—elders like Mara watching with furrowed brows, their fur-trimmed robes rustling in the breeze; warriors shifting uneasily, hands still gripping weapons from the brief fight with the rogue; omegas huddling together, whispering about the intruder's claims of innocence and betrayal. Doubt had

  • His Omega, His Punishment    Faking Lisa's death.

    Taehyung's POV The moment Clara's body went slack in my arms, a primal roar tore from my throat, not of command but of pure, unadulterated anguish. Her blood—hot, metallic, soaking through my shirt and mingling with my own wounds—felt like acid on my skin, burning away the carefully constructed facade I'd built around us. The rogue's claws had sliced deep into her side during the scuffle, a desperate lunge meant for me that she'd intercepted with her own body. Why? Why had she thrown herself in front of that strike? For the alpha who'd chained her, humiliated her, forced her to kneel under the moon's gaze like a conquered prize? My heart hammered against my ribs, a war drum echoing the chaos around us—the pack's howls turning to frantic shouts, the scent of fear and blood thick in the night air. But inside, my wolf was a hurricane of fury and desperation, clawing at the edges of my mind. *You fool! You absolute motherfucker!* My wolf's voice exploded in my head, a savage growl t

  • His Omega, His Punishment    I won't watch you die.

    Clara's POVThe moon's silvery glow bathed the clearing in an ethereal light, turning the stone altar into a stage of shadows and flames. The fire pits roared, their heat licking at my exposed skin like eager tongues, while the pack's eyes bored into me—hungry, judgmental, a sea of faces blurred by the haze of tension. Taehyung's fingers dug deeper into my hips, his nails scraping fresh welts that burned in the cool night air. The torn remnants of my gown hung in tatters, barely concealing the curve of my breasts or the dip of my waist, my body on display like a sacrificial offering. The chain dangled loosely from my collar now, a mocking reminder of the submission he craved, but my spirit remained unbowed, a flame flickering defiantly against the storm of his dominance."Scream for me, mate," he growled again, his voice a guttural rasp that sent shivers racing down my spine. His breath was hot against the nape of my neck, his body pressed flush against mine, the hard length of him st

  • His Omega, His Punishment    Get dressed

    Clara's POV The afternoon waned into a golden haze, the sun dipping low beyond the pack's sprawling territory, casting long shadows through the chamber's narrow windows like fingers reaching for secrets. Taehyung's arm remained a heavy weight across my waist, his breaths deep and even in sleep, the fever's grip loosening under the salve's influence but not fully broken. His scent enveloped me—musk and pine, mingled with the salty tang of our joining—stirring the bond into a restless hum that made my skin tingle. I lay still, feigning rest, my mind a whirlwind of schemes and shadows. The vial of poison, tucked away in its hidden nook, whispered promises of freedom, but my wolf's earlier words echoed louder: words as weapons, doubt as poison subtler than any herb. Carefully, I extricated myself from his hold, his bandaged hand sliding off with a soft murmur from him, but he didn't wake. The mattress creaked as I rose, my body protesting with fresh aches—thighs sore from our frant

  • His Omega, His Punishment    Tend me, when I hurt you?

    Clara's POV The hours blurred into a tense haze as the sun climbed higher, its light filtering through the mist-shrouded windows like a reluctant intruder. The chamber felt smaller with each passing minute, the air thick with unspoken threats and the faint, lingering scent of Elara's herbs—bitter and earthy, a stark contrast to the alpha musk that saturated everything. Taehyung paced sporadically, his movements deliberate but strained, the fresh bandage on his arm a white flag against his dark tunic. He barked orders at the omegas who darted in and out, preparing for the gathering: platters of roasted meats, vials of ceremonial oils, and the ornate silver chains that would bind me during the ritual. Each clink of metal sent a shiver down my spine, a grim reminder of what awaited under the full moon. I sat on the edge of the bed, my linen dress clinging to my skin in the humid air, watching him with feigned docility. My mind, however, was a whirlwind—plotting, probing for weaknesses

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