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Chapter 119 – Definitely Not My Type
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2025-06-02 13:44:09
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The executioner and the Alpha King Chapter 129: Nope. And None of Your Business
Michael’s Point of View I wake up to the softest thing I’ve felt in weeks: sunlight brushing against my face like it knows I need a gentler start today. Sonia’s legs are tangled around my waist, not loosely either—tight, like she’s still claiming me even in her sleep. Protective or possessive, I’m not sure. I smile into the pillow. She’s possessive. She needs to be. Last night wasn’t just about release—it was about everything she’s never been given permission to want. Power. Control. Safety. A place to fall. And someone strong enough to catch her. Her honey-brown hair is a chaotic halo on the pillow. Strands cling to her cheek, her forehead, her bare shoulder. She looks like the end of a storm. Beautiful, messy, and calm at last. And then she snores. Not loud. Not obnoxious. Just a faint, rhythmic little puff of sound that makes me grin like an idiot. Somehow, it’s the most charming thing about her. I lie there for a while, watching the light move across her skin. But eventual
The executioner and the Alpha King Chapter 128: The Fallout
Sonia’s point of view “Say it,” he murmurs. “Say you want me.” “I don’t—” He pins me to the counter before the lie can finish. His mouth crashes into mine, hot and rough and so full of need I forget how to breathe. I fist his shirt, pulling him closer, teeth clashing with his in a kiss that tastes like fury and lust and surrender. His hands are on my hips, gripping hard enough to bruise, and when he lifts me onto the counter, I wrap my legs around him without thinking. I want to fight. I want to melt. He drags his mouth down my neck, biting, tasting, staking his claim in every inch of skin. Then he pulls back, breathing hard. His eyes are glowing. “Bedroom. Now.” I smirk. “Or what?” Michael growls—a low, possessive sound that vibrates through my chest. He lifts me like I weigh nothing and tosses me over his shoulder. “Or I take you right here, against the kitchen counter, where anyone could walk in.” I squirm, laughing—but it dies in my throat when he swats my ass, hard
The executioner and the Alpha King Chapter 127- Idiot
Sonia’s Point of View For two weeks straight, we’ve been pretending. Michael and I, pretending the air between us isn’t a live wire of frustration, attraction, and… whatever the hell this is. He says it’s progress. I say it’s a ticking time bomb. We’ve been trying—really trying—to be less antagonistic. Less sarcastic. Less explosive. But old habits die hard. Like this morning, for example, when I walked into the kitchen, rubbing sleep out of my eyes, expecting the comforting smell of freshly brewed coffee, only to find shards of the beloved coffee pot scattered across the floor like casualties of some caffeine-fueled war. I stare down at the mess, disbelief mixing with pure irritation, and there he is—Michael—leaning against the counter, looking way too casual for someone responsible for this catastrophe. “It slipped,” he says, as if that explains everything. “You murdered it,” I say, crossing my arms, my foot tapping the floor like a ticking time bomb myself. He shrugs, no
The executioner and the Alpha King Chapter 126 – Closure
Eva’s Point of View Warmth. It’s the first thing I notice when I stir—a soft, steady heat wrapped around me, anchoring me to a moment that doesn’t feel like mine. For a heartbeat, I wonder if I’m dreaming. But executioners don’t dream. We see visions. Controlled. Clinical. Directed by need, not emotion. This felt like none of that. It felt like someone was there. Not physically—more like a shadow wrapping itself around me from the inside out. A whisper in the darkness. Not commanding. Not cold. Just… present. Protective. Possessive. And strange as it sounds, it felt good. I shift slightly. Theo’s arm is still curled around my waist, his body a wall of warmth and quiet strength. His face is relaxed in sleep—unguarded, unburdened, peaceful in a way I rarely see. He hadn’t asked questions. Hadn’t pushed. He had just held me. I came here raw, unraveling, unsure of what was happening to me. And he made space for it. For me. I never meant to stay. But I did. I ea
The executioner and the Alpha King Chapter 125 – A Wolf’s Secret
Aries’s Point of View She’s different now. I drift along the edge of the veil, where spirit touches breath and silence becomes thought. Not quite in this world, not yet banished from it. I move without sound, without form—watching, listening, guarding. Theo sleeps. Eva lies beside him. But she doesn’t rest. Not truly. She never has. Even now, when her body softens and her mind quiets, I feel the storm that swirls beneath her ribs. I feel it because I am tied to her in ways no one else can understand. Not Theo. Not even Eva herself. Because I know her secret. Not the secret of her creation, or her curse, or the prophecies that follow her like vultures. I know her—the truth no one else remembers. Her name. Her real name. Artemis. The Moon Goddess spoke it once, when Eva’s soul was first forged in the space between dusk and dawn. She whispered it into the bones of the executioner and sealed it behind layers of silence. And I—only I—was allowed to hear it. I guar
The executioner and the Alpha King Chapter 124 – Stay
Theo’s Point of View She’s already turning toward the door. I see it in the way her shoulders rise—not with tension, but with resolve. The same resolve she uses when walking into a battlefield. Only this time, her enemy isn’t outside. It’s inside her. And that makes it worse. Eva doesn’t run from war. She runs from feelings. But not this time. Not again. “Eva,” I say, voice low, calm, steady. “Don’t go.” She pauses. Just for a second. Her hand hovers near the doorknob, fingers twitching slightly as if her body isn’t quite convinced it should obey her mind. “I can’t help you if you keep walking away,” I say, a step closer now. I don’t touch her. Not yet. She needs the choice to be hers. “I know this scares you. I know you scare you right now. But you don’t have to face this alone.” Her spine stiffens. “I’m not scared,” she says. Quiet. Sharp. Defensive. “Then why are you leaving?” She doesn’t answer. The silence stretches between us like a wire pulled taut, re
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