Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Alpha King's Breeder: Kabanata 491 - Kabanata 500

Aviva Something changed after that night. There was a shift between me and Ryan. He showed me a part of himself that only two other people have seen. Something he locks away, guards, and hides. I don’t know if he’s ashamed of it. I wouldn’t be. If I had the power to shift into a beast like that? Oh, gods, everyone would be sick of me. I’d never shift back. I’d stay like that, ruling the forests, enacting the sick, twisted judgment I crave when it comes to rogues and hellhounds. Maybe not, but it would be difficult to come back to my human form. I could tell, when he was in that startling form, that he was uncomfortable. I think it hurts him, honestly. The grotesque shape of his spine. The hard as rock muscles covered in tight, scaled armor. Fur sharp enough to tear skin. It was the coolest thing I’d ever seen. But I understand the weight of it. What he carries everyday in his heart. He&rs

Aviva I expected to be led into a throne room guarded by wolves. I expected gold finishes, ball gowns, crowns made of precious gems. I expected to see their powers at work and feel tiny in comparison. I wasn’t expecting the woman who greeted me in the doorway of a very simple, open sitting room in the depths of the castle, yellow wallpaper illuminating her face in a soft glow.She sucks in her breath and absolutely beams at me, her dark blue eyes widening with… joy. Or maybe it’s utter relief. I’m not sure. Whatever it is, she’s happy to see me, and she doesn’t even know me. “The girls said you had red hair, but this–wow, you are just stunning.” “Mom, can you at least let us come into the room first?” Ryan smiles down at the woman, his mother, his hand flat against the small of my back. I see the resemblance now. Ryan doesn’t look l

Aviva I wake to full sunlight bursting through ceiling height windows, warming the sheets covering a four poster bed. A cool morning breeze drifts through the open windows, ruffling the lace curtains as birdsong floats through the air. It’s like something out of a dream. I stretch, groaning with delight as my skin slides over satin sheets, and relax with a slump. I slept like the dead. But as I feel toward the opposite side of the bed, the sheets are cool and empty. I roll over and reach for the bedside table where a piece of paper is propped against a vase full of fresh flowers. “There’s breakfast down the hall in the pink room. I’ll see you later this afternoon.” I lie back with the note, smoothing my fingertip over the scribbles. Ryan has terrible handwriting. With a sigh, I roll out of bed and pad across the wide room. The carpet is soft, and the wallpaper is heavily detailed w

RyanMy fingers wind through Aviva’s hair as she kneels, rising on her knees. I should tell her to stop. A very small, insignificant part of me is begging to haul her upright and service her first, like a gentleman, but under the haze of the dim lighting and thrum of music vibrating up through the floor, I’m not feeling very gentlemanly. My eyes flutter closed at the sensation of her hands pressing against my thighs, her nails pinching my skin. This has to be some kind of dream state. My entire body jerks as her tongue glides up my shaft a second time in a slow, drawn out taste. She’s testing me. I know if I open my eyes, she’ll be looking up at me with that whiskey gaze that will have me spilling myself on her chest within seconds, and she hasn’t even fully taken me in her mouth yet. I’m fucked. “Aviva,” I choke out, my head rolling to the side against the door at my back. “Hmm?” She hums as she guides the head of my cock between her lips. It’s enough to send a jolt of electricit

Ryan There are only three thoughts in my head at the moment, all of them intertwined. The first being that I’m starving. The second, that I’d like to eat, preferably as soon as possible, so I can haul my wife over my shoulder and carry her back to our bed to continue what we’d started last night. And finally, I do not like the look on Ryatt’s face as he gazes at my mate like she’s the answer to a riddle that’s been plaguing his mind for decades. At almost fifty, Ryatt still looks youthful and dangerous. He’s at his most powerful, from the whispers I’ve heard from my parents and close family acquaintances. He looks like a walking, talking angel of death with his shadows creeping between his fingers as he grips his desk, his silver eyes locked on Aviva. Something just changed, I know that for certain. “The G-Gate of the Gods,” Aviva says, standing, looki