The Wolf King's Vow のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 81 - チャプター 90

Aria wanted to know how he figured it out. What gave her away? Her face burned—but now from fury rather than shame. That smug, satisfied smirk of his made her want to slap it right off.“Enjoy your delicacies,” she muttered, rising to leave.But before she could step past him, Marcus caught her wrist. She froze, her eyes flicking toward the window where everyone inside watched them. Looking down at him, she hissed, “Don’t make a scene. Everyone is watching.”His lips curled in a roguish smile. “Then don’t tempt me to make one.”She tugged discreetly, trying to free her hand, but his grip held firm. “What are you doing?” she pressed between clenched teeth, stealing another glance inside.“Not letting you walk away.” His voice was low, deliberate. “You come and go as you please.”Through the glass, she saw Saul smirk, leaning toward Zoila to whisper something. The princess giggled, her eyes flicking toward them.“Fine,” Aria said suddenly. Sliding between Marcus’s legs, she sat herself

Marcus kept his gaze on Zoila as she moved across the floor. She had chosen a traditional dance—one of the more difficult ones, clearly meant to show her grace and skill. He couldn’t deny she was talented, every step perfectly measured, but he felt no spark watching her.The crowd, however, was delighted. Laughter, clapping, cheers—all filled the air. From the corner of his eye, Marcus caught a glimpse of Aria seated among them. He forced himself not to look too long, not to notice the way her dress clung or how her hair glimmered in the lantern light.Zoila danced on, but then another woman joined her—this one bold, moving in challenge. Marcus raised a brow. At these gatherings, it wasn’t uncommon. Women often danced to catch a man’s eye, just as men fought to prove their strength. And with the knowledge that his breedmate was human, others were bound to test their chances.Zoila clearly hadn’t expected competition, but she didn’t falter. Still, the newcomer was daring, her movements

Aria was painfully aware of every brush of bare skin, no matter how hard she tried to ignore it. Riding with him up the mountain left her no escape—each step of the horse pushed her closer against his chest. She tried to keep her back away, but it was useless. The warmth of his body pressed into her, both unsettling and strangely comforting.“Do you have a name for your horse?” she asked quickly, desperate to pull her thoughts away from places that made her heart race.“Rani,” he answered.“What does it mean?”“Queen.”Her lips curved. “Oh, so you already have a queen?”He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest against her back.“I got her when I became king.”“I see. Desperate early on, then?”“Very desperate,” he said, amusement lacing his tone.“All of Aaron’s horses are mares too,” she mused. “Do you all prefer them?”“I like mares,” he admitted. “They’re calmer… and they respond better to us. Stallions are too aggressive. I don’t have the patience for that.”“But stallion

Marcus was ready to hold her down if she decided to get up and fight him, but all she did was harden her gaze. Alright. Perhaps not a fight. Then a threat?“Maybe I should let everyone know you drew it,” she said.He knew it but it just occurred to him that he painted her. Everyone would know he did it. He would have cared if he wasn’t enjoying this torture so much.He had her laying in front of him, watching her stomach quiver now and then as he drew on her, hearing the unsteady rhythm of her heartbeat and heavy breath. Feeling the heat of her body and seeing her face flushed. It was torture for her and he enjoyed it because she tortured him so much.“Let me finish,” he said and went back to draw on her. She stiffened again.It was so satisfying to watch the black pigment against her white skin. He wanted to run his fingers down her stomach. How much would she quiver under his touch?Marcus was only holding back in fear of her running away. Strangely she seemed more fearful of him to

Riding at the front had been a wise choice—if she sat behind him on the way down the mountain, it would look as though she were clinging to him. Desperate. And it didn’t help that he wore nothing on his upper body, every line of him distracting her.He sat straight and steady, but at the front, she had to rely only on her own balance. Her arms grew tired quickly. When the horse jolted, she nearly fell forward before his hand caught her waist.“I know you don’t like me touching you,” he said, “but hold on for a while.”“I don’t like anyone touching me,” she replied.“Why?”Why? Why not?“I just… don’t like people being too close.”“Why?” His tone was curious, not accusing.“Do you let anyone just get close to you?” she countered.“No. But you’re more guarded than most,” he said simply.“I’m not used to it. People take advantage.” Her words carried more weight than she meant to reveal. The truth was harsher—she had lost too many people already. Letting someone close only ended in pain.