Semua Bab Rejected by My Mate, Fated to the Lycan King: Bab 281 - Bab 290

TaraThe air is crackling with tension.It rolls through the group like a thundercloud, thick and stifling, settling under everyone’s skin. Soldiers twitch at every noise. Eyes dart around frantically. Hands tighten on weapons.Malcolm and Redgrave walk at the front of the pack, a careful distance apart, pretending civility. But anyone with half a brain can see the truth. They’re waiting for an excuse to kill each other and their men know it.Ash walks slightly behind them, his expression schooled into something unreadable. I keep my head bowed, collar dragging at my neck, wrists still shackled tightly behind my back. The leads from my collar are held by Redgrave’s men. They seem jumpy too, hands flexing constantly around the chains and pulling the collar tight against my throat.It’s a miracle no one’s opened fire yet. I glance at Ash through lowered lashes. In spite of his impressive acting abilities, I notice the worry lines around his mouth. The way his spine is as straight as an

CereliaI hear them long before I see them. The scuff of heavy boots against the forest floor. The low murmur of voices trying to stay quiet but too weighted with nerves and suspicion to succeed. Labored breathing and faint curses.Clearly the humans haven’t taken a moment to consider how sharp a wolf’s hearing is. Never thought their whispered orders and rattling weapons would be beacons in a forest whose sounds we know like they’re our own breaths.I tighten my focus, steadying the pulse of the spell waiting in my hands. It’s nearly time and I’m so ready for this to be over.All around me, the warriors stay perfectly still, crouched low among the shrubs and trees. No one moves a single muscle. They breathe so quietly that even I can’t hear them. It’s like the entire forest has conspired to hide us, holding its’ breath for what’s about to happen.They’re very close know. Hearing the rattle of Tara’s chains makes my jaw clench. Every soft clink is a reminder of why we’re doing this. W

HildaCerelia is swaying on her feet, pale and drained, but when I step closer, she straightens with visible effort. I hesitate for a heartbeat. She’s already given more than enough today. She shouldn’t have to give more.I can’t ask her to restore Malcolm’s memories just so I can have my revenge. “Thank you for everything. You should go and rest,” I tell her.She looks back at me, exhausted but clear-eyed, a half-smile on her lips as she informs me, “He remembers everything.”I exhale slowly, tension bleeding out of me, hugging her for giving me this gift. I need him to remember. I need him to know why he’s being punished.I double check Malcolm for weapons. I’m not taking any chances with him. Even armed, I know I can take him, but I don’t want any interruptions or unnecessary struggles. He’s taken up too much of our time already.I grab a single leash from the pile the warriors dropped earlier and snap it to the heavy collar locked around his throat. “I’ll see you back at the pack

AshFor a long, breathless moment, I can’t move. Tara’s lips are soft and warm against mine, trembling just slightly, like she’s not sure I’ll kiss her back.But I do. Gods, I do. My arms fold around her instinctively, drawing her closer, and everything else, everything dark and twisted and sharp, fades into nothing.The world narrows to her body pressed against mine. Her mouth, open and trusting. Her hands fisting gently into the front of my shirt.I kiss her slowly, reverently, afraid to shatter the fragile magic threading between us. Her lips taste like honey and forever. Like everything I’ve ever wanted and never dared to ask for. Every time I move to pull away, she tilts her face to follow me, like she can’t bear to stop.And gods, I think I might break.When we finally come up for air, we’re both breathless. She gazes up at me, cheeks flushed, eyes luminous in the low lamplight. “Close the door,” she whispers. “Come to bed with me.”My heart does something strange in my chest. L

AshAfter two days in Tara’s bed, I honestly wasn’t sure my legs still worked. They do, but just barely.We’ve both managed to stumble out into the daylight today, blinking and dazed like creatures dragged from some romantic fairy tale.Sore, hungry, and maybe a little too pleased with ourselves. Tara’s gone off to help Cerelia with decorations, and I’ve been assigned the incredibly noble task of carrying boxes of cider to the main clearing where Hilda’s preparing to throw what I’ve been assured will be a “respectably rowdy” victory celebration.The werewolves are happy. Relaxed. They laugh louder. Touch more freely – which is saying a lot. The tension that used to hum just beneath the surface is gone for now.They survived. And they’re still free to live as they choose. The human world blissfully unaware of their existence.I’m halfway through hauling the second crate of bottles when I hear the unmistakable patter of quick little footsteps, followed by an even quicker voice.“There y