Bewitching the Alpha のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 41 - チャプター 50

THE ORACLE'S WORDS still hung in the air like a cold mist, heavy with their terrifying truth. Selene had to become the very thing she feared, the raw, untamed power of her cursed lineage, just to have a chance at breaking free. And Waldemarl, the strong, controlling Alpha, had to let go completely, trusting her with his very life when every instinct would scream for him to fight. The Blood Moon, that fiery orb in the sky, was now just a few hours away, its crimson glow already painting the dusty air outside the hidden cavern. Inside, the ancient stones seemed to hum with a mix of dread, a desperate kind of hope, and a fear so deep it settled in their bones.Selene turned from the Oracle, her eyes finding Waldemarl’s. His face was a hard mask, showing all the worry and raw understanding of what she’d just heard. He knew, just like she did, that his willingness to give up control, to trust her fully even when his deepest wolf instincts would scream no, was just as important as her own f

THE AIR IN THE temple felt alive, thick with the smell of old stone, rare magical plants, and a sharp, metallic scent that seemed to come right from the Blood Moon itself. Outside, the world was painted in a strange, otherworldly red, the deep crimson light sneaking in through cracks in the cavern walls, bathing everything in colors of magic and destiny. Selene and Waldemar stood right in the middle of the temple, in front of the old altar, where they had carefully placed the special things needed for the ritual: the shimmering Moon-Kissed Willow Sap, the colorful Hydra Scale, and the dark, pulsing Shadowbloom Nectar.They were ready. As ready as any two people could be for something so unknown and dangerous. Their night of sharing everything, of showing their deepest fears and true feelings, had gotten rid of the last bit of doubt between them. It had made their bond strong, unbreakable, even though they were still scared and knew how much they loved each other. Now, only the ritual

THE VOICES OF Selene’s ancestors were a deafening roar in her mind, a symphony of seductive whispers and ancient commands. They painted a picture of absolute power, a throne built on the bones of consumed Alphas, a reign of unbridled desire. The visions of Waldemar, broken and bent to her will, were so tempting, so arousing, that they almost made her give in. She was a hurricane of emotions and magic, light and shadow fighting for control inside her. The Shadowbloom Nectar had opened the floodgates, and the curse was rushing in, trying to claim her forever. A powerful jolt of energy shot through the Moonbind, and Selene felt Waldemar’s pain as her power tried to pull his life force from him. The voices screamed, "Take him! Take all of him! It is your right! Your purpose!" But then, a single word, a single gasp of a name, cut through the noise. "Selene!" It was Waldemar, his voice raw and

THE WORLD HELD its breath. Every eye in the sacred grove was fixed on the dais, where the last flicker of the curse, a sickly green flame, sputtered and died. The air, once thick with the oppressive weight of dark magic, shimmered with a new, vibrant energy. Selene, the subject of this desperate ritual, remained suspended in the ethereal light, her body a canvas of stillness against the swirling colors. The aetherial threads of the ritual, woven by powerful casters and bolstered by the raw, untamed magic of the pack, began to unravel. As the last thread dissolved, a profound silence descended upon the grove. It was a silence so absolute it was deafening, a stillness that preceded a storm. It was in this quiet moment that Selene’s eyelids fluttered open. Her eyes, once a familiar shade of warm brown, were now swirling pools of iridescent light—a kaleidoscope of gold, rose, and emerald. A gasp rippled through the gathered crowd. Wa

THE QUIET THAT followed their reunion was a sacred thing, a heavy, peaceful silence broken only by their soft breathing and the gentle thrum of their newly reforged Moonbind. The dazzling light had faded, leaving the temple bathed in the gentle, crimson glow of the Blood Moon, which was now beginning its descent. The air smelled of ozone, magic, and something fresh, like rain on dry earth. Selene and Waldemar stood facing each other, a single, magnificent unit in the heart of the ancient temple. The raw power that flowed between them was no longer a struggle, but a perfect, powerful dance. They were exhausted, physically and emotionally drained, but it was a deep, satisfying kind of exhaustion that came after a battle won. Selene reached out and laid a hand on Waldemar’s chest, feeling the steady, powerful rhythm of his heart beneath her palm. It was a beautiful sound, the sound of a life she had helped save. She looked into his eyes,