บททั้งหมดของ Scar; The Ugly Bride of The Alpha King: บทที่ 21 - บทที่ 30

Kane was still talking, something about tracking rogue movements, about needing scouts along the riverbanks, but his voice was just a hum in the background. My focus was shot, my attention stolen by the woman who had the audacity to fall asleep against me, the werewolf King. The strongest and most powerful man in this world. People quiver in my presence, piss their pants at my one command and she is sleeping without a care of this world? How? Did I act soft with her? Am I missing something? Why isn’t she scared of me? I let my fingers trail lower, brushing the nape of her neck. She shivered. A tiny gasp left her lips, but she didn’t wake. Her body curled in tighter, pressing closer, and fuck if that didn’t send a sharp pulse of need straight to my core. The urge to grip her, to fist her hair and make her fully aware of what she was doing to me, was unbearable. My free hand clenched into a fist. Control. I was always in control. But this little mouse was testing it. Testi

The tang of blood filled my mouth almost immediately, metallic and bitter. I expected him to yank his hand back, to curse or react in pain. But he didn’t. Instead, his thumb pressed deeper, the motion deliberate, almost punishing.Fuck!I gagged, my throat convulsing as his blood coated my tongue, metallic and vile. Tears burned at the corners of my eyes, but the sight of him didn’t waver. If anything, his lips curled, and his eyes gleamed with predatory amusement—a wolf savoring his prey’s final thrashes.“That’s more like it,” he rasped, his voice low and serrated, each word slicing into me like a blade. His thumb pressed further into my mouth, forcing me to taste more of him, drowning me in the coppery tang of humiliation.I couldn’t breathe.My lungs clenched in protest, screaming for air as I twisted and writhed beneath him. A feral panic ignited inside me, but before I could pull away, his legs coiled around me, his thighs like steel cables pinning my arms.It wasn’t a hold.

“Well, that was a commendable entrance, little mouse. Do you like the attention?” A haunting melody begins, low and deliberate, as I turn her around to face me. My hands move to her waist, possessive, as I press her tightly against me. Her body is stiff, almost trembling. That tightly packed ass brushes against my front, and a smirk plays on my lips. I trace my fingers down her arms with deliberate slowness, savoring the way her breath catches. Cold, clammy hands meet mine as I interlock our fingers. I begin to sway us in time with the music, my question hanging in the air like a noose waiting to tighten. “No,” she stammers. “I hate it. The men are looking at me like I’m a piece of meat.” Her honesty cuts through my thoughts like a knife, but instead of anger, a low chuckle rumbles from deep within my chest. The sound is foreign, even to me—unnatural and chilling. It draws a dead silence from the room. Killain King doesn’t entertain jest. The only time I smile is when I’m p

Killain’s POV The hall reeked of desperation. Not mine, of course. But of these noble people. 
Desperation for approval. For favor. For the scraps of power I allowed them to feed on, each morsel dangled with calculated cruelty, like bait on a string. And just like rats, they scrambled to devour it. And then there was her. My personal little rat. My mouse. 
Eve. She thought sitting in the shadows could save her. Foolish girl. Didn’t she know? Shadows are my domain. I tilted the glass to my lips, savoring the bitter edge of the wine as it coated my tongue, and watched the same liquid streak across her face, down her neck, and soak through her dress. Her scar gleamed under the flickering chandeliers, bared for all to see—her hideous little truth put on display like the cheap spectacle I’d orchestrated. “Seriously? That’s the Queen?”
“What did His Highness see in her?”
“She’s hideous.”
“She’s a disgrace to the crown.”
“Imagine waking up to that face every morning.

His words root a dagger into my heart, twisting until the pain is unbearable. I shake my head in silent refusal, but desperation claws at my insides.I want to say so much, but my lips betray me, trembling, parting—yet nothing escapes.Then, without warning, his hand clamps around my chin, yanking my face upward. His steel eyes bore into mine, devoid of warmth, void of anything human."Do you have the slightest idea who those women were? The ones you disrespected?"His voice is cold, lethal, each syllable slicing through me like a well-sharpened blade."The first lady was Lady Elizabeth Warner, daughter of Gary Warner—the most respected and wealthiest member of the council.""The second one? Hellen Thatcher. Wife of Thomas Thatcher, Alpha of the Yellowstone pack. The same pack I have a trade balance of one million five hundred seventy-six coins with."His fingers tighten on my chin, unyielding. "Do you understand the damage you’ve done to me?"Lub. Dub. Lub.I can’t breathe. One milli