All Chapters of Bewitching the Alpha: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

My first breath felt like inhaling broken glass.It was a sharp, jagged intake of air that scraped against the raw lining of my throat, shocking my lungs into expanding. My chest heaved, ribs protesting the sudden movement.My second breath felt like inhaling fire. The cold air of the courtyard reacted with the sudden heat of life returning to my blood, creating a burning sensation that radiated from my sternum out to my fingertips.My third… my third felt like life.It tasted of snow, ozone, and the lingering, copper tang of blood. It was heavy. It was messy. It was real.I sat up, gasping, my fingers clawing into the slushy ground. The snow was freezing, biting at my skin, but the sensation felt distant, muted, as if my nerves were still waking up from a long, deep sleep. My body felt incredibly heavy, like I was wearing a suit made of lead. Gravity, which I had forgotten in the weightlessness of the Void, was now a crushing reality."Lilura?"The voice was broken. Cracked.I turned

For months, my mind had been a crowded room. Guilermo’s presence, his golden fire, his heartbeat thumping in rhythm with mine like a second drum in my chest. Then came the roar of the Root, the violet darkness that made me a Queen.Now, there was nothing.I woke up in the Alpha’s quarters and the silence inside my head was so absolute it felt heavy. It pressed against the back of my eyes. It filled my ears with a dull, ringing void.I reached out. It was a reflex, as natural as breathing. I reached for the glass of water on the nightstand.I didn't use my hand. I used my will.Come.The glass didn't move.It sat there, condensation dripping down its side, mocking me.I stared at it for a long minute. My brain fired the synapses, the pathways where the magic used to flow, but the bridge was out. There was no current. No spark.I had to physically sit up. My ribs screamed in protest, a sharp, hot jagged line of pain that made me gasp. My ankle throbbed with a dull, sickening ache. My sk

The first month of peace was strange. It was like learning to walk again after spending a year in a coma. The muscles were there, the bones were knit, but the rhythm was all wrong.I had moved into the Pack House permanently. My little apartment in Oakhaven, with its drafty windows and leaky faucet, was gone. The lease was broken, the mismatched furniture donated to a shelter. I didn't need it anymore. I had a suite in the east wing of a mansion that had stood for three centuries. I had silk sheets and a fireplace that never seemed to run out of wood.But moving in didn't mean fitting in.I was the Alpha’s mate. Technically, that made me the Luna. But I was also a human. A mundane. A liability with a pulse.I felt it every time I walked into a room. The casual roughhousing of the younger wolves would instantly stop. Conversations would die in throats. They would bow their heads, respectful and submissive, but it was a cold, distant kind of respect. It was the way you looked at a piece

From the high stone balcony of the Coven House, the view was a study in contrasts. Behind me, the House itself stood firm, a fortress of grey granite and ancient wards that had weathered the siege with barely a scratch. But below, down the winding hill road, the town was a mess.It looked like a giant had stepped on it.Roofs were caved in where stray spells had landed. The cobblestone streets were cracked and heaved, looking like broken teeth. The air, usually crisp with the scent of pine in early spring, still carried the lingering, sour smell of wet ash and burnt timber.The snow was finally gone, but it had been replaced by a sea of thick, churning mud that coated everything in a layer of brown grime. Green shoots were trying to push through the sludge but they looked fragile against the devastation.Rebuilding wasn't going to be just about stone and mortar. That was the easy part. You can stack bricks. You can pour cement.But trust? Trust was a structure that had to be built out

The music from the courtyard didn't stop, but it faded into a rhythmic thrumming in the floorboards as we climbed the stairs to the Alpha’s quarters.It was a heavy, grounding sound. The sound of a town that was finally, truly breathing.My ankle was throbbing again, a dull, rhythmic ache that synced with my heartbeat, but I didn't mind. It was a reminder that I was here. That I had walked through the fire and come out the other side with nothing but a few bruises and a story.Guilermo didn't carry me this time. He walked beside me, his arm wrapped around my waist, taking just enough of my weight to make the ascent easier without making me feel helpless.We reached the door. He opened it, and we stepped into the quiet sanctuary of our room.The fire in the grate had burned down to glowing embers, casting a soft, orange light across the fur rugs and the massive wooden bed. The room smelled of cedar, woodsmoke, and the faint, lingering scent of the lavender soap I had started using.It