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Chapter Eight
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2025-08-22 09:41:18
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His Pretty Little Pup Chapter Twenty Nine
Chapter Twenty-Nine — A Plan to RunElara’s POVSilence became my most useful instrument.When the house slept and the moon poured like cold water across the floorboards, I moved. I learned the hours of creak and quiet, the gap between the cook’s closing footsteps and the guard’s last round, the cadence of voices that meant doors would be opened and slammed again. I learned where sound traveled and where it died in the stone, where my breaths could hide among the rafters and where they would shout like trumpets.At first my plotting felt like childish rebellion—a small, defiant thing against a house that had become a tomb. But repetition turned it into something steadier, a map of possibilities sketched in the margins of my days. In the morning, I performed the role they forced on me: ate the bitter tea, chewed the mint until my mouth bled, kept my face composed, answered only when spoken to. Then I waited until the shadows lengthened and I could move.The small things mattered most.
His Pretty Little Pup Chapter Twenty Eight
Chapter Twenty-Eight — A Prison of Family Elara’s POVThe lock slid home with a metallic scrape that rattled straight through my ribs. I stood in the center of my chamber, staring at the door, half-expecting it to swing back open—that Gareth had only meant to frighten me, that Carlene would think better of this confinement. But the silence that followed was heavy, settled, final.I was caged.The room felt smaller already. My chamber had never been large, but in those first moments after the bolt fell, the air itself seemed to thicken, pressing against my lungs. I turned in a slow circle, taking in the shuttered window, the stripped table, the bundles of herbs Carlene had left hanging from the beams. Pennyroyal. Feverfew. Sage. Their smells bled together into something sharp and bitter, a constant reminder of what they wanted—of what they feared.It wasn’t as though they hadn’t known. They had known for weeks.The memory clawed its way back: the night Carlene found me hunched by the
His Pretty Little Pup Chapter Twenty Seven
Chapter Twenty-Seven — The Hidden Shame Elara’s POVThe sickness had been with me for weeks, shadowing me since that first missed cycle, since the slow bloom of nausea that rose like a tide each dawn. We had spoken of it already—my mother, my father, and I—though spoken was too soft a word. It had been forced out of me one terrible night, when Carlene caught me retching by the well and Gareth smelled what no father ever wishes to smell on his daughter: the clinging trace of another man’s seed shaping itself into life.Since then, the knowledge sat like a stone in our house. Heavy. Unmovable. Not denied, but not embraced either. We lived around it the way villagers skirt a burned-out ruin: pretending it was nothing more than a scar in the landscape, pretending it had not once been a home.But in these last days, the stone grew heavier. The sickness worsened until it ruled me. Food turned against me, the mere scent of roasted meat curdling my stomach. Even bread—once safe, simple—taste
His Pretty Little Pup Chapter Twenty Six
Chapter Twenty-Six — The Stone WallElara’s POVI told myself I would not go back.I told myself a thousand things on the walk to the pack grounds: that I was done with aching, with begging, with being a secret that tasted like ash. I rehearsed commands I would give him, words that would make him look at me — not with hunger, but with the raw, naked shame he deserved. I imagined tearing him open with my voice until whatever brittle armor he wore fell away.But my feet betrayed me. The path to the hollow where the pack gathered was a river of memories and every step sucked me under.The grounds smelled of sweat and damp fur and woodsmoke — the clean, honest scents of our world. It should have steadied me. Instead, it made the ache in my chest louder, because here the world still moved, unmoved by my ruin. Men argued quietly by the training posts. Children chased each other between the wagons, laughter sharp and ignorant. The pack was awake, alive. I felt obscene, an intruder in my own
His Pretty Little Pup Chapter Twenty Five
Chapter Twenty-Five: Ashes of MorningElara’s POVI moved through the world like smoke. Thin, weightless, fading.My body still ached from him—every step a reminder, every breath threaded with his scent that clung to my skin no matter how I rubbed at it. I’d begged him not to leave, given him all of me, and he had gone anyway. No note. No goodbye. Not even a cruel excuse to cling to.Just absence.By the time I reached the edge of Crescent Valley, the sun was high, but I felt nothing of its warmth. My boots carried me through mud and bracken as though guided by someone else’s will. The village came into sight, roofs crooked against the sky, smoke curling from chimneys. A place I had once called home.I must have looked like a ghost when I stepped through the gates. Conversations faltered. Neighbors froze mid-step, eyes tracking me. Someone whispered my name like a curse.“Elara.”They had been searching, I realized dimly. Two days gone. Two days unaccounted for. And now here I was, wa
His Pretty Little Pup Chapter Twenty Four
Chapter Twenty-Four: The Breaking PointCaelan’s POVThe taste of her still burned on my tongue—wild, intoxicating, ruinous. She was trembling against the shed wall, cloak askew, breath ragged, eyes glazed with shock and release. I should have stopped there. Should have let her catch her breath, let her believe she’d reclaimed some control.But restraint had never been my gift when it came to Elara.Her body called to me, all heat and surrender, and before she could push me away, I pressed forward, caging her between rough timber and the hard weight of my chest.She gasped as I drove into her in one savage thrust. No warning, no words—just the raw, primal truth of how much I needed her.Her nails clawed at my shoulders, half protest, half plea. I swallowed the sound with a brutal kiss, hips slamming into hers, urgency blotting out thought. We were shadows in the night, hidden from the fire by only a few yards of darkness. The danger of discovery sharpened every motion.Her muffled cri
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