All Chapters of Alpha Ethan: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Liana’s POVHe moves his hands down my back, pulling me to him. My nipples are sensitive against the thin material of my nightgown as they rub against his chest with each ragged breath. And I want more.I rock against his thigh, the heat building, a flush spreading over my body.Whatever was knocked loose in my chest when Ethan hurled me over his shoulder back at the castle has escaped again. It rages inside me, primal and wild and free. I am no longer a princess, or a prisoner, or a statue. I am no longer trapped in a cage, or a castle. There are no chains nor wedding rings to bind me.Ethan groans against my lips as if he can sense the change in me.There is something tightening inside me, burning, building.And then it crashes over me. Ethan thrusts his tongue roughly against mine, claiming my release as it surges through me. My knees buckle and he holds me, stopping me from falling, as my breath comes out hard and fast against his lips.He growls, the sound as low and animal as I

Liana’s POVFor the next couple of days, I’m glad to have my job in the kitchens. It distracts me, and stops my thoughts from becoming too dark.Ethan thinks wearing his collar will keep me safe, but it seems that without him here in the castle, the hostility aimed at me is palpable.When I head to the kitchens in the mornings, Vladimir and his rat-faced friend shout lewd comments as they pass on their way to training. While picking herbs in the kitchen gardens one afternoon, Isla whispers something behind her hand to her friend and snickers as she swans by. And only Mrs. McDonald and Kayleigh speak to me—everyone else merely eyes me with contempt. They do not want a human in their midst.The strip of red tartan around my neck prevents any further trouble, at least.I eat as much as I can during lunch, so I do not have to stray downstairs after dark when the alcohol comes out and the bagpipe music starts playing. I ignore Isla’s comments, and Vladimir’s leers. And I spend the rest of

Liana’s POV“Are you trying to make a sleep aid?” I ask. “Why the wolfsbane? Unless...”Ethan told me they didn’t have painkillers up here because the wolf inside them would fight it off.“You’re using wolfsbane to weaken the wolf and give the other ingredients time to work, aren’t you? Why do you need a sleep aid?”The room lights up, and the force of the thunder makes the mountains tremble. Blake’s whole body hardens, and a rough sound scrapes the back of his throat. “Fuck’s sake.”“Goddess! You’re afraid of the storm!”He removes his hands from his hair and slowly looks up at me. “If you tell anyone, I will kill you.”I know the dark image he cultivates is important to him. I believe he will do what it takes to prevent that from being shattered.“I know,” I say.When the thunder sounds again, he shuts his eyes, his chest inflating as he takes a deep breath. He groans and lies back on the bed; his feet planted on the floorboards.“It’s only a storm,” I say, placing my hands on my hi

Liana’s POVI burst into Blake’s room.He’s draped in an armchair by the window and doesn’t look up from the book he’s reading—the blue tome with stars on the spine that he took from my chambers.“Please, do come in, little rabbit.” He flicks to the next page. “No need to knock.”“He’s hurt. You need to come. Now.”“What’s wrong with him?”“Wolfsbane.”His expression is unreadable, but he gets up.He places the book on his writing desk, which has been tidied after the other night. In fact, the space is now immaculate; the bed is made, books are neatly tucked into the shelves along the wall, and the sheepskin rug by the hearth no longer glints with shards of broken glass.He pulls a black leather case out of a drawer in his armoire, then heads to the door. I fall into step beside him.When we enter Ethan’s chambers, my stomach drops.He’s pulled himself up onto the bed and his downy quilt is red with his blood. His breathing is raspy, and he’s barely moving.“Ethan?” I bolt across the

Liana’s POVMy insides tighten.Ethan’s warm breath heats my skin, his lips almost touching my neck.His shirt has ridden up to my hips, and I can feel the cotton of his breeches against the bare skin of my thighs.My legs are parted to accommodate him; my core pressed against his hard stomach. When he shifts, my breath catches in my throat as a jolt of need courses through my body.And the scent of him—Goddess, the scent of him—he smells like heat and male and the mountains.He groans into my ear, and the sound vibrates through me.“You don’t know how many ungentlemanly things I’ve thought about doing to you.” His voice is low, and his accent is even thicker than usual.He brushes his lips against my neck, then shifts so his face hovers above mine. His solid weight presses down on me. His forearms are flat on the pillow on either side of my head.I should feel trapped, held prisoner by his body. The strength of him, the sheer size of him, should make me feel weak. He is alpha of Midn