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25. Chloe
Last Updated:
2025-05-29 02:55:03
Latest chapter
The Alpha King's Omega 52. Morning
When she woke, the world was hushed.A thick, muffled stillness blanketed the room, like the silence after a storm. Soft light filtered in through the balcony curtains, turning the air silver and cold. Freya lay motionless, cocooned in a tangle of sheets that smelled of pine, steel… and him.Ragnar.The scent clung to her skin. Her breath caught before she even opened her eyes.The ache in her body wasn’t just from the night before; it was deeper. Lingering. As though something sacred had been taken from her… or given. Her muscles throbbed with a slow, aching soreness, not from pain but from the way her limbs had curled so tightly around someone she didn’t know how to let go of.The bed was large. And empty.He was gone.Her eyes opened slowly, lashes brushing against damp skin. She blinked up at the ceiling, and for a long moment, she couldn’t move. Her body refused to rise. Not because of weakness, but because she was afraid.Afraid that if she moved, she’d lose the fragile remnants
The Alpha King's Omega 51. Ice and Flame
He had walked away. Gods, he had.The door still quivered on broken hinges behind him, groaning from the force of his retreat. But no distance was enough. Not when her scent still clung to his skin like smoke. Not when her voice still echoed inside his skull. Not when the taste of her name still sat like fire on his tongue.She was in his lungs. His blood.His bones.He paced the corridor outside his chambers, each step a battle between instinct and restraint. His hand scrubbed down his face, rough with sweat and desperation. His heart slammed against his ribs like a caged thing, wild, panicked, howling for release.He had told himself to stay away.He had promised her.But gods help him, he could still feel her. The soft, ragged breath she’d made when he’d turned from her. The way her body had bowed in the chains—not with fear, but with a craving so raw it scraped at the very walls of his soul.And beneath the heat, beneath the magic, there had been pain.Not physical.Not hormonal.
The Alpha King's Omega 50. Hunger
Freya writhed against the chains.Not because they hurt,But because they didn’t.Because the silver didn’t burn the way it should. Because restraint felt safer than freedom. Because without them, she wasn’t sure she could trust herself not to tear the world apart in her hunger.She had bound herself. By her own hands. By her own will. A wild, reckless act of desperation to deal with the heat. Because she knew what would happen if she didn’t. Because she knew what he would do if he found her like this.And now… He had. The only thing she wanted was for him to stay miles away from her until her heat gets over with.The door hung broken on splintered hinges, jagged wood veining outward like the cracks in her control. His scent—storm-drenched pine, steel, and something deeper, older—had filled the room like a rising tide. His blood painted the wall, smeared in a violent streak where he had punched stone.But it wasn’t fury in him anymore. It was something quieter. Something far more dan
The Alpha King's Omega 49. Heat
The ink on the parchment blurred into meaningless swirls.Ragnar’s jaw clenched as he stared at the lines of text: trade negotiations, border patrol rotations, supply routes for the Northern post. Each line was etched in careful script. Each word meant to ensure the safety of his kingdom.But none of them mattered.Because his mind refused to focus. Every line blurred beneath the weight of her name.Freya.Her name was a curse and a prayer in the same breath. The taste of her still haunted him, sweet and defiant, like fire laced with frost. His lips remembered hers too well, remembered the way she pushed and pulled like she hated how much she hated him and wanted him. That kiss… gods, it had ruined him.He had touched her like a drowning man clinging to air. Desperate. Possessive. Reverent.And now... now he was unraveling.Across the desk, Nate’s voice droned on, steady and calm, oblivious to the storm rising inside the prince.“…the merchant guild is withholding grain until the tari
The Alpha King's Omega 48. Mine
"let me down," Freya growled trying to free herself from his hold. It had happened so quickly the way he grabbed her and tossed her over his shoulder. The last thing Freya saw before the world tilted off its axis was Ragnar’s shadow slicing through the garden like a thundercloud about to break. And he was carrying her on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.Her blood boiled because she was flung over his shoulder in one violent, seamless motion, his arm locked around her waist like a shackle forged in fury. And she didn't see it coming when he grabbed her. Her open hair moved wildly behind her, and her fists pounded against his back with no effect. The muscles beneath her strikes might as well have been stone.“Put me down, Ragnar!” she snarled, her voice cracking like a whip. “What the hell do you think you’re—”“Quiet,” he snapped, the word like a blade drawn behind clenched teeth. “You’ve pushed far enough.”Servants froze. Gasps echoed. Cloaks and baskets were dropped as he stor
The Alpha King's Omega 47. Jealous
One by one. Cries and gasps and whispered prayers fell from their lips like spring rain. Weathered hands reaching, trembling, unbelieving. They clung to her like drowning souls, pressing their foreheads to her shoulders, her hands, the fabric of her cloak. Some laughed. Some wept so hard they couldn’t speak.“Freya, by the gods... Freya-”“We were told you died, that you burned-”“They said your body vanished in the flames-”“We lit candles every night-”She held them. She let herself be held. Freya, the flame, the wolf, the storm, she let those things fall away. Here, she was just a girl who had come home.Their warmth pulled her back from the edge of everything. She could feel the grief unwinding from their bodies like thread unraveling. These weren’t people she ruled; they were kin. Her bones had been shaped by their stories. Her fury had been forged in their suffering.She sat among them, not on the throne they offered, but on the floor. The bare stone beneath her knees. Shoulders
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