Semua Bab The Ruthless Alpha’s Breeder: Bab 41 - Bab 50

AlaricThe wolf came closer, her paws pounding against the ground, the thud of each step rattling straight through my skull. My chest tightened, every muscle in my body screaming to move, to fight, but my legs wouldn’t obey. My ribs burned where the blade had gone in, my breath jagged and shallow.Her eyes locked on me—sharp, burning, furious. There was no mistaking that look. I’d seen hatred before. I’d worn it myself like armor. But this… this had something else under it.The anger there made my heartbeat climb, each thud echoing in my ears until it drowned out the sounds of the fight around us.When she reached me, she didn’t slow. She growled—a deep, raw sound that seemed to come from her bones. The kind of sound that warned you death was one wrong step away.And then, one single word tore out of her mouth, rough but clear.“Mate.”The sound hit me harder than the pain already chewing its way through my body. My head jerked back, my breath catching like I’d been punched in the lun

CelineThe first thing I noticed wasn’t the light. It was the whispers. Low voices, broken like wind slipping through cracks. They pressed around me before I even dared to move, hushed tones that carried weight—healers murmuring to one another, warriors pretending not to stare.I didn’t need to open my eyes to feel them on me. Their gazes were heavier than the bandages binding my skin. Their words weren’t meant for me, yet every syllable pressed close.“An Omega… fought like an Alpha.”“Did you see the way her wolf moved?”“It wasn’t natural.”Their disbelief seeped into me, making my chest tighten. My wolf. Why? The flashes came back uninvited, jagged pieces of memory that made no sense. Blood. Claws. My body tearing through enemies like it wasn’t mine. My wolf had done it, not me. She had taken control.But she saved him.I squeezed my eyes shut harder, hating that truth. The one man I swore I would never kill if I got the chance, yet my wolf tore me open to save him. Alaric. My mis

CelineThe fruit was damp and cold in my hand. I chewed because the healers said I should, because not eating felt like giving them another win. The pear tasted like water and nothing else. The bowl slid a little on the tray when my fingers trembled. The room smelled of mint salve and old smoke. A bee of noise hummed from the corridor, metal on metal, a muffled voice, a cart. It sat somewhere outside the door and didn’t come in.The door opened and the air changed. He walked in and filled the whole room in three steps. I heard the soft slap of boots on wood and knew it was him before my eyes found his face. He had a shirt on and a bandage at the collar. He carried that quiet like a thing around his shoulders.“You’ve got that look again,” he said finally, voice low and rough, like gravel dragged across steel. “Like you’d rather stab me with that fork than finish your fruit.”I pinched the pear between my fingers and kept chewing because my hands shook if I tried to set the bowl down.

AlaricAs she still stubbornly sat there treating her wound, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Blood still clung to her skin, faint streaks running down her arm where she dabbed too roughly with the cloth. She should have let me tend to it, but no, Celine had to be defiant, and had to act as though she owed me nothing. Every movement she made scraped against my control. She was alive, breathing, here in front of me, and all I could think of was how close I had come to losing her.That battlefield still burned in my mind. The sight of her throwing herself between me and death was reckless, infuriating, stupid. My wolf tore inside me at the memory. She had stood there as if her body was worth offering, as if she could decide that for me. She belonged to me. Her life was mine to guard, to risk, to decide. She had no right to put herself in the line of that blade. No right to bleed for me.But gods, she had. And the terror of it still clawed at my ribs.I wanted to grab her right then, sha

CelineAlaric shifted. He muttered something under his breath. I froze with one foot off the ground, heart seizing like I had been caught doing something I should not. He turned to the other side and went quiet again. I let air out slowly and tugged my cloak from the chair. The fabric scratched my palm, familiar and rough. I draped it around my shoulders and tied it with fingers that still shook, though I told them not to.I looked at him one last time. His throat. The mark I knew too well now. The steady beat under his skin. I had a quick and ugly urge to put my mouth there and bite down until he bled and then kiss it clean. My stomach flipped. I turned away fast.The hall outside held the kind of quiet only morning knows in a place that is crowded the rest of the day. Long stone, cool, with the faint smell of water from the baths and ash from the night fires. I walked with my cloak pulled tight. My steps echoed and came back to me smaller. The few people awake nodded and kept going.