Semua Bab Bound To The Crown Prince: Bab 21 - Bab 30

Edrian's POVI still reek of Xander when i pushed the door to the palace workers' chambers open. My lips were still hot where he kissed me, my chest where his hand was. It was the first time I was held, not as a slave, not as an object but as something close to a lover.Berry was humming softly inside me, content and hopeful. Maybe he’s changing… maybe we’re not just a mistake anymore.But then I froze.My room was swarming with guards. Their feet tore up my floor, their hands spread through my few possessions, and threw away my little dignity.“What are you doing?” My voice cracked, startled.Captain Ralden didn’t look up. He tore my sheets back, shoved his hand beneath the mattress, and pulled out something I had never seen before. A folded parchment with the wax seal cracked.“Found it,” he said grimly.“That’s Bloodfang’s sigil.” Another guard leaned close, eyes narrowing.“What? No...that’s not mine. I’ve never...” Confusion surged through me.But they didn’t listen. My arms were

Edrian's POV The moonlight always had a way of creeping in between the cracks of the stone, no matter how deep the dungeon or how heavy the walls. I was lying awake in its bones of white, shackled memories ripping at my head in a much more effective way than iron shackles ever will.Xander had broken the cuffs the previous night, and the next thing I knew he was holding me, and whispering. He had strong arms, warm, possessive but soft, in a manner that puzzled me. I could still feel his lips on my scars, and I could feel his big cock at the back of my throat.And I despised myself that I needed that softness.Since what he did last night, forcing me to my knees and making me take him as if I was a toy to be used, he had torn open all the wounds I thought I had buried. It reminded me of the others.The masters.The first had been a nobleman with soft hands and dead eyes. He’d kept me in his wine cellar, always smelling of grapes and dust. His favorite game was lashing my back until it

Amber's POVThey always made a mistake when they thought I watched from a balcony for the view.I watch because I learn. I watch because I collect the tiny tells...the way a hand tightens around a goblet, the micro-shudder at a whispered name, the way fear folds into pride like a bad marriage. Tonight the courtyard was a slow-broken thing... blood on stone, nobles with white faces, and a wolf that had torn the order of the world in two.I leaned on the stone balustrade and watched Edrian’s retreating shape as if it were an animal I had once trained and was now deciding whether to let live. He looked fragile up close...hands scarred, chest rising with some fevered memory. Yet the wolf that had risen in him had rearranged the whole palace. Prophecies had teeth, wolves had claws. They had both sat in the courtyard and bared them at me. I did not like being bared at.I remember when I told my grandmother someone was dangerous. "You're more dangerous Ambre. You're a beta wolf and a power

Xander's POVThe council-room smelled of smoke and incense, neither of which could overcome the odor of terror and politics.I sat at the upper end of the obsidian table, and gripped the cut armrests of my seat so hard that splinters pricked into my palms. The High Council had swirled round me like carrion birds, their robes rustling on the floor, their jewelled fingers shaking, as they grabbed scrolls and sigils.Edrian’s wolf still haunted them. His silver-streaked transformation and his howl under the moonlight. They pretended they were debating policy, but all I heard was their fear.“Your Majesty,” droned Elder Veynar, the one with the skeletal hands and the thin-lipped smile. “We must speak plainly. A king can neither share his bed, nor his bond with a slave."A murmur of acknowledgement rippled through the room."He is not a slave," I burst out before I could even stop myself. My voice snapped like a whip, stinging enough to shut them up. However, my father, the Alpha King, wh

(Xander’s POV)The council chamber reeked of incense and blood, as if the gods themselves couldn’t decide if this hall was meant for meetings or execution.My father sat on the throne, high-backed, carved in wolf motifs that clawed up toward the ceiling. I sat beside my father on the crowned prince's throne while I looked at the rest of the court from high up. The room is spacious enough, but it felt smaller every time Amber opened her mouth.“My King,” Amber began, her voice smooth and commanding, “the time has come. The people demand certainty. The alliance with my house cannot wait while the Prince dally with a… slave.”Her words sliced as sharply as a blade. Around her, the council nodded like vultures pecking at carrion. Old men with cold eyes, some loyal to my father’s decrees, others eager to see me stumble.“Watch your tongue, Amber. He is not a slave.” I clenched my fist against the armrest.Her smile was ice.“Then what is he? A king’s mate? A wolf of no house, no lineage,