บททั้งหมดของ The Tyrant alpha: บทที่ 181 - บทที่ 190

Just like that, all the worries crash back down on me.Diapers.Laundry.Cadoc.Madog Collins.Alban Hughes.Brody Hughes.New dens.Food.Newborn pups.Childbirth. Oh, dear, sweet Fate—childbirth.Inside, my wolf is yawning and arching her back in a luxurious stretch, utterly relaxed. I’d be chilling too if I were off duty for the next six months or so.I can’t bear to put on stiff, dirty socks—again—so I shove my freezing feet into my boots and stamp outside to start the day.The first thing I notice is that Cadoc’s moved his truck. It’s parked next to the Land Rover, now.Cadoc himself is sitting on an overturned crate in front of a stack of boxes. On top of the boxes, there’s a laptop, a cell phone, and a rectangular black box with an antenna. He’s typing away, occasionally taking sips from an aluminum mug. If he weren’t wearing cargo pants with bulging side pockets and a green plaid flannel shirt, he’d look like the quintessential nob in the office.He taps one last key, drains h

No one’s called me that before. I’m not claimed.“Rosie Kemble,” I mumble.“Collins,” Cadoc corrects. “She’s well.”“And the pup?”“Growing,” Cadoc answers. It’s strange. His manner has changed. He seems older, talking to Darragh. Like an instructor. Or like his father. The thought’s unsettling. “You’ll join us for a meal?”“What are you having?” Darragh glances at the trees around camp. He’s looking for a fresh deer or rabbit strung from a branch. He’s going to be disappointed.“Stew. Jerky. Canned salmon. Tuna.”Darragh hesitates before he says, “Yeah. All right. Thanks.”Cadoc ushers me toward the fire, and Darragh trails at a distance. Cadoc sets out crates, one for Darragh on the far side of the pit, two for us close together closer to the Airstream. Cadoc clearly doesn’t want me near Darragh, and Darragh is being careful to give me distance and move slowly and deliberately.It’s a stark difference from how Cadoc acted back at Moon Lake. Hurt twinges in my chest. No one felt the

He doesn’t hesitate. “No.”“You don’t miss your family and your tall buildings and cars and stuff?”“I’ve got my car. Thanks to you.” I can almost hear his subtle smile.“You don’t miss your parents?” I miss mine. Every day.He thinks for a minute. His knife scrapes, and the fire crackles. The trees around the clearing and the Airstream are black outlines against a royal blue sky.“My father’s sick, and I can’t save him. I bought him time by stepping down in favor of Brody. It’s all I could do.” He pauses. “It’s what I chose to do.”“What’s wrong with your father?”“Wasting sickness.”“Shit. He hasn’t been able to get ashbalm?”“The witch tells him she’ll get it. She says it’s a matter of time. He has to hold out ’til spring.”“I’m so sorry.”“He’s the strongest wolf I know.” There’s fondness in his voice, and regret. “I think if he were me, he’d do the same thing I did.”I remember Abertha’s story about Lavender, Thyme, and the witch. I don’t say anything, but I think Madog Collins m

I’m breathing in short pants, and I don’t know whether to watch him touch me or watch him look at me, so I switch between his hand and his beautiful eyes. They’re impassive as always, but I know exactly what he feels. I can read him from the inside.He’s in awe. Burning for me. Holding onto his control for dear life.My lips curve. He takes me by the hips and pulls me flush against him, my heavy breasts crushed to his chest, his hard cock digging into my stomach. He wraps me in his arms, and lowers his mouth to mine, closing his dusky eyelids, his black lashes feathering his cheeks.My harshly beautiful mate. He doesn’t know quite what to do with me—it’s not like I know, either—so he does everything.He kisses me, tastes me, demands that I open for him, lashes my tongue with his, exploring me, his hands roaming my back, caressing my ass. He wants all of me at once, so he can’t make up his mind—slip his rough fingers into my wet slit from behind, bite my lower lip ’til it stings and th

Cadoc squeezes my fingers. “Will you go back with me, Rosie?”“Of course.”His voice drops low. “Can you trust me, Rosie Collins?”I expect doubt, wariness. The quick, buzzing part of my brain is already thinking of the words to form a lie and make a promise I know I can’t keep. Yes, I trust you.I anticipate it, but it doesn’t come.I cock my head. “You’ll protect me.” It’s the truth. I’m certain of it in my bones.“I will.”“You’ll help my people?” That, I don’t know.“Our people,” he says.And it’s not a promise or a vow, it’s more than that. It’s a claiming.“Okay.” I squeeze his hand.“Okay,” he repeats. “We go.”It takes minutes for Seth and Cadoc to clear out the Land Rover—while Bevan polishes off a canned ham—and then we’re bumping eastward, back toward Moon Lake.When we arrive at the Bogs, it’s eerily quiet. It’s mid-day. The pups and young folk should be at the Academy and some adults will be downtown, but there’s always males like Uncle Dewey sleeping off a drunk or femal