All Chapters of Bitten, Branded And Bare: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Kael’s POV I swear, the first thing I heard this morning wasn’t the chirping of birds, the gentle rustle of leaves, or the distant hum of festival workers—it was Atlas groaning. Not just any groan, mind you. The deep, put-upon groan of a man who’s regretting every life decision that brought him to the moment of dealing with me before breakfast. “Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked, squinting up at him from where I was sprawled across his desk chair. Yes, *his* chair. Yes, I knew I wasn’t supposed to be there. And yes, I was swinging my legs like an overgrown child. “You’re glaring. That’s not healthy first thing in the morning. Bad for your heart.” Atlas didn’t even glance at me as he sorted through the stack of parchment on the table, muttering under his breath. “You’ve been sitting there for an hour and haven’t done a single thing you were supposed to.” I gasped. “That’s not true! I’ve been thinking ab

Bryan's POV The plates were still warm on the tray, the scent of roasted meat and spiced potatoes clinging to the air, mixing with the faint sweetness of the wine I’d just finished. I leaned back in my chair, licking the taste of red wine off my lower lip as I tapped my fingers lazily on the table. "Clean this up," I said, my voice carrying across the room. My tone wasn’t a request—it never was. "Send in a maid." The guard outside answered with a muffled, "Yes, Alpha," and within a moment, the door cracked open. But it wasn’t the maid who entered first. It was Henry. Beta Henry—my father’s most loyal shadow, the kind of man who always had an air of seriousness that grated on my nerves. His dark eyes scanned the room, lingering on the tray, then flicked back to me as though judging how I lived my life. "Your father requests your presence," he said flatly, ignoring the discarded mess of plates, t

Lisa's POV I slammed the heavy book shut, my fingers tingling from the weight of flipping through so many pages. My eyes burned, not just from staring at ink for too long, but from the fire of triumph rushing through me. I had done it. I had read all of them—the very same books Enzo had marked, the ones he had teased me about, the ones he said would never hold my interest for long. Every word was carved into my mind like scratches on stone. The moment the realization struck me, I leapt to my feet, the chair screeching behind me. I didn’t even bother tidying up the mess of papers and notes scattered across my desk. Excitement flooded through me like wildfire, and I couldn’t stop the grin that spread across my lips. My heart thudded in my chest, faster and faster, urging me forward. “I’m going to prove him wrong,” I muttered to myself breathlessly, clutching one of the smaller books to my chest as if it was a trophy. “I’ll wipe that smug lo

Lisa's POV I woke up the next morning with the strangest mixture of excitement and nerves buzzing in my chest. Yesterday, Kael had practically begged me to oversee the planning for the pack’s annual celebration, dumping all responsibility on me with that pitiful puppy-dog look in his eyes. At first, I had agreed out of boredom and maybe out of spite for Enzo, who had so obviously shoved me aside by moving me to another room. But now, lying in bed with a mental list running wild in my head, I realized what I had signed myself up for. This wasn’t some small dinner. This was the event of the year for the pack. Everyone would be there. All the alphas, heirs, families, and allies. I groaned into my pillow. “What have I gotten myself into?” Still, I wasn’t about to back down. If Kael thought I was going to let him crash and burn, he clearly hadn’t been paying attention to who he was dealing with. I got out of bed, tied my hair in

Lisa's POV I couldn’t sleep. No matter how many times I turned on the bed, no matter how many times I closed my eyes and forced myself to drift away, my mind wouldn’t quiet. It felt like an itch I couldn’t scratch. The quiet of the night only made it worse—the stillness pressing into me until I thought I would suffocate if I didn’t do something. So I pulled out my sketch pad. The pencil scratched softly across the paper as I leaned over it, cross-legged on the bed. I wasn’t drawing anything specific at first. Just lines, shapes, shading. But slowly, it began to take form—arches of lanterns I’d seen during the day, the outline of the stage Kael and I had finalized for the celebration. My hand moved with a restlessness that mirrored my thoughts. I bit my lip, tilting my head, smudging a line with my finger. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough to distract me. Enough to calm the pulse of energy running through me. But then— A