Semua Bab The Alpha King’s Hated Mute Luna: Bab 71 - Bab 80

ALAYNA’s POV The grass is still wet with morning dew as I walk through the Northlands and I look down to see the cool blades brushing against my calves. It is ticklish and I like it.Beside me, Carrot skips over stones, swinging her skirt as she does and humming something off-key. I like this little girl, she is like a ray of sun shine in thie otherwise dark world of mine. I make a mental note to ask who the Sorceress is later but for now, I try to immerse myself in the serenity of this quiet morning where the air is crisp, scented with pine and wood smoke, and the sky is a pale, sleepy blue, clouds drifting like lazy thoughts.The tranquility should soothe me, but it does not. Not when Wanda, Drake and Mira are not here and not when I cannot walk five steps without seeing a guard.The guards, they are posted near every path, every gate, every bend in the road. They are all cloaked in dark leather with blades at their

ALAYNA’s POVEzra’s hand is a vice around my wrist, his fingers digging into my skin as he drags me through the dungeon walls and out into the open. I twist and struggle, my feet slipping against the smooth stone floor.“Let go of me! Let go of me, now!”Of course he does not let me go. Since when does a tyrant listen to anyone weaker than him? Ezra does not even look at me. His jaw is locked, carved from ice, his body rigid under that black shirt, muscles coiled like he's holding back violence with every breath.He continues forward, the wind picking up as he pushes through the thick trees and down a dirt trail that slices through the trees, sending birds scattering into the skies above. Soon, the mansion looms behind us and the wild cliffs stretch ahead, carved from wind and fury. I know this path, I saw it from the window of Drake’s bedroom.Dread fills me, I do not like what is coming.“Stop! Where are

ALAYNA’s POV The cottage is warm and quiet, a stark contrast to the first frost of winter that has spread in the fields. Here, the fire crackles steadily in the stone hearth, casting a soft orange glow that dances across the wooden walls. I sit at the table listening to the small, familiar sounds of cooking; the clink of metal on wood, the gentle bubbling of a pot on the stove and the creak of the old floorboards beneath shifting feet.My father hums to himself as he chops vegetables, his knife moving with a slow but careful rhythm. Odd how I associated him with only bread making before and nothing else. I guess I need to spend more time in the cottage to get to know my father again.Gimli stands beside him, stirring something in a dented saucepan while muttering about “too much salt” even though he is the one who added it. The movements of these two men, one bulky and one frail, are clumsy but od

ALAYNA’s POV I awaken to the crackle of firewood by the hearth, noting for the first time how the room is bathed in a soft amber glow. I had been too cold to appreciate its beauty when Ezra brought me here earlier but now, in the quietness of this place, I get to see how amazing this place is. Everything here has been made with great care, from the pastel blue wall to the simple but tasteful furniture. Ezra had prepared this.I blink.Ezra is here with me and I freeze.Shadows flicker across the walls, dancing in the corners like whispers. The air is warm, but it is not the fire that makes my skin burn.It is him.I realize now that my head is tucked beneath Ezra’s chin, the edge of his jaw brushing my forehead. I look up to see stubbles growing from his jaw and wonder how it would feel to run my fingers through them. Would they be soft or prickly, I wonder?I inhale deeply a

ALAYNA’s POV I wake to the blanket that clings to my skin, warm and heavy and when I shift beneath it, I feel the ache in every inch of my body.Oh.A flush creeps up my face as the memories rush back and I remember and feel the phantom touch of Ezra’s lips on mine, the heat from his hands as they trailed all over my body and his voice of deep timbre that growled my name again and again as he took me. On the sofa, on top of the kitchen counter, against the walls of the tiny corridor and on this very bed.So many places. So many times. Too many that I have lost count. Each time we finished, the heat would come crawling back, insatiable and relentless. And each time, I would reach out to him and each time he answered my call.I stretch slowly, my muscles tender and sore, and the movement drags the blanket lower across my now tender and swollen breasts. I am still naked beneath it. And as I stretch, the wool