Semua Bab FORBIDDEN BOND: The Alpha's Desire : Bab 121 - Bab 130

The royal palace courtyard had been made into a splendid stage.The open air theater ran like a crescent amphitheater under a velvet sky with stars shining in laid-back rivalry with floating lanterns which floated like fire flies over space. Each of these buildings had been kissed by enchantment: silver-lit lanterns suspended in mid-space, a mouthful of the air an enchanted breath that made the hot evening cool, and crystalline domes on the sides of the stage which threw forth feeble light through veils of mist.Aaron was sitting in the first row, his back straight yet his legs loosely crossed and his embroidered cuffs to his midnight-blue robe. On the other hand, Kael, bending a little forward, scanned with his eyes the broad platform before him, where the King and Queen sat with assured majesty, draped in obsidian and gold. Casian sat on the left of the Queen, all stiff and stone-faced as ever. But Alaric was more difficult to overlook. He sat back, red as he was almost black in the

The courtyard shook with the beat of the ancestral heart of Veridia, pulsed with a cacophony of color and magic. Lanterns, as large as captured summer fire-flies, hung in the air, dancing with pale lavender light. Their unsubstantial radiance threw fluctuating, undulating contours on the smooth canvasses of silken canopies stiffly expanse above, changing the great square into a soil of fragmentary shadow and light. The fire dancers, lean and savage, painted circlets of red and orange around the darkening dusk, each downward step a drum upon the ground. With ancient power thrummed the very air itself, with joy, with the very essence of the Wolf-kind.But Alaric was cold.The Crowned Prince sat by the side of the King--a privilege, beyond doubt, a gold-gilded prison--and followed the merriment with an air of enforced restraint. His chair, carved out of heavy stone, and with carved stone armrests, had been cold where his fingers touched it, as though his blood were cold itself. He hadn't

There was a dense, suffocating silence in the square. A thick smoke and incense filled the atmosphere from the ceremonial fire which still crackled its stone basin. the people of Veridia were standing all about in close groups and too dazed to say a word, turning their eyes to and fro between the High Seer and the prince and the young man who was just staggering under the burden of the prophecy.Kael shivered and his legs buckled under his body, and his breath came raggedly in the shallowest of gasps. Like a cathedral bell is ringing in his mind are the words of the prophecy. He was aware of all the eyes being upon him, he felt the strain of it bending and curling around his shoulders like a smoke. Thunder was the pounding of his heart.Aaron moved in, put his arm tightly around his elbow. “Breathe,” he said in a very low voice so that Kael was the only one listening. “I've got you.”Kael nodded, holding the bile in his throat. His body yelled at him to run, to hide, but the legs did

The room was dim, quiet but far from calm. The silence wasn't peace— it was pressure. Thick and heavy. Like the world held its breath, waiting to see what would break next.Kael lay on the bed, pale and unmoving, his body curled in on itself like a child seeking the safety of a womb long lost. The damp cloth Aaron had been using to cool his forehead now rested uselessly on the side table. His breaths were shallow. Dreamless or dreaming— no one knew. But his chest rose and fell with an eerie steadiness that made everything feel suspended, like time itself was hesitant to move forward.Alaric knelt beside the bed.His head bowed low, forehead brushing Kael’s hand like a desperate prayer that no god was answering.“He’s mine,” Alaric whispered again, voice hoarse from the hundred times he had said it before. “He’s not my brother. He’s my mate. Mine.”His hands trembled as he gripped Kael’s sheets. Not from drinking. Not just from that. The tumbler he had brought with him, half-full with

Aaron hadn’t meant to walk far, but the palace had a way of swallowing people whole, especially when they were trying to just breathe some fresh air.He needed to walk. To think. To calm the ghost of rage still clinging to his bones from watching Kael collapse into him. From holding Alaric back as he screamed Kael’s name like a prayer and a curse in one.The air in this palace was heavy with secrets, too old and rotten to remain buried much longer.He turned a corner near the arched windows overlooking the west courtyard— and almost bumped into her.Amora.Her presence was unmistakable: sleek emerald gown cinched to perfection, hair pinned like a crown, face carved with cruel elegance. She leaned lazily against a marble pillar, inspecting her perfectly painted nails like the world around her was a dull play she’d already seen.“Oh, brother,” she drawled without lifting her gaze. “How poetic. You storm in, stir the pot, and now take dramatic palace walks. You always did enjoy flair.”A