All Chapters of Kiss Of The Cursed Alpha: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

LyraThey came at dusk.Council-trained wolves. Another extraction team. Three of them.She threw up a shield of Hollowborn magic around the old temple ruins, sigils flaring in the earth as Ronan stood, blades drawn. The air between them thrummed—full of unspoken things. Regret. Fury. Need.“Lyra,” he said, voice taut, “if they’re Council-fed, they won’t stop.”“I don’t care.”“I do.”She turned to him and by gods, that face. Those eyes. She could taste the moment in her mouth..He already knew what she hadn’t yet said.That she wasn’t going to run.And he wasn’t going to stay.“I’m not leaving you.” Her voice cracked.“You have to,” he said. “They’re not after me.”They were. But she was the prize. The weapon. The heir to something ancient and corrupted.“Don’t,” she begged.But he stepped forward, kissed her like a war cry, mouth brutal and bruising, like it might be the last time.“Live, Lyra,” he said. “Even if I don’t.And then he threw himself at the wolves.The moment he was dr

LyraThe fire crackled low in the hearth, licking at half-burned logs like it was afraid to burn too brightly. The rest of the cabin was dark, quiet except for the occasional groan of old wood and the steady rhythm of Ronan’s breath.She watched him from across the room, kneeling beside the cot where he lay shirtless, bandaged, and too still.Each second seemed to stretch into an ache.The worst of his wounds were sealed, the silver burned from his bloodstream, but the bruises remained. The kind that wouldn’t fade without time.Her fingers trembled as she dipped the cloth into warm water, wrung it out, and pressed it gently to his ribs.“You shouldn’t be alive,” she whispered, voice low.He didn’t open his eyes, but his lips twitched. “You’re the one who set the world on fire. I just hung on.”She didn’t laugh. Couldn’t. But she wanted to.The vision of him in that Council cell, arms shackled above him, his skin torn open, barely breathing, that would haunt her forever.“I tore throug

LyraShe didn’t speak to him for hours. Not only because she was angry.Because if she opened her mouth, she wasn’t sure what would come out. Maybe rage, sorrow, desperation. Maybe all of it.After hitting the ravine, they moved through the old tunnels in silence, the flicker of rune-lamps throwing jagged shadows across Ronan’s face. He hadn’t looked at her since the bluff, since “Then we sever it.”As if he could sever something carved into the marrow of her bones.She could still feel him under her skin, tight and agitated. The bond didn’t lie. It pulsed with his guilt, his fear, and something more dangerous than either.His love.It would have been easier if he didn’t love her.She would’ve let him go if that bond didn’t burn just like hers.They stopped at the second safehouse before dawn. An old den carved into the side of a moss-covered cliff, hidden behind a waterfall. She slipped inside first, soaked to the skin, heart racing with more than cold.He followed, silent, slow.She

LyraThe forest was a blur of shadows and breathless silence.Each step was a heartbeat. Each heartbeat, a countdown.They were being hunted.Not by mere scouts now, but by a war party.The Crimson Fangs had regrouped.And they were coming.Lyra crashed into the ground, lungs burning, claws half-formed and teeth aching from the strain of the shift she was holding back.Her wolf was clawing at her chest, demanding to take over. To protect. To fight.But they couldn’t stop. Not now.Not when they’d seen what she could do.The magic still flickered beneath her skin like hot coals. Runes pulsed faintly on her arms, ghosting in and out of sight, as if her blood couldn’t decide whether it belonged to ancient gods or mortal wolves.Ronan was just ahead of her, barely. His strides longer, body powerful and fast even wounded. But she could feel it.Through the bond.He was hurting.And he was trying to hide it from her.Idiot.She got herself up and poured more speed into her steps, ignoring t

LyraThe sarcophagus began to hum.Not a sound, not really, but a pressure in the air, in her blood, in the bond itself.It wasn’t just ancient magic.It was a heartbeat.Hers.Lyra staggered back, but the connection held tight. She could feel the tendrils of something vast and unspeakable wrapping around her soul, dragging her into a memory that didn’t belong to her, and yet somehow always had.The wolf in her went still. Reverent.A pulse answered her from the sarcophagus. Low. Timeless.The stone lid cracked down the center with a shriek of breaking runes.Ronan stepped in front of her, teeth bared, claws out. “Don’t.”But Lyra touched his shoulder and pushed forward.“I have to know,” she whispered.⸻RonanHe should’ve stopped her.Every instinct screamed to drag her back, seal the passage, bury the thing still breathing inside that tomb.But the bond…It wanted this.And worse, she wanted it.Ronan watched as she placed her hand against the cracked lid.And the stone dissolved.