One Night with the Hybrid King のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 41 - チャプター 50

“Should you really be drinking so much, Seraphina?” Isolde questions, her eyebrows arching in my direction. “A queen should not allow herself such indulgences.”My hand tightens around the goblet, now nearly pressed to my lips. What I truly wish to do is scream that there isn’t enough wine in the world to help me endure her presence. Instead, I don my armor as the wounded mate, a guise I’ve recently mastered. Caelum, after our last confrontation, is drowning in remorse. And I know how to wield that. With a simple turn of words, I can bend the king to my will—and that includes manipulating his mother, astute as she may be.“Forgive me, my lady,” I murmur, lowering my head in feigned sorrow. “With everything that has happened recently, I feel lost… almost helpless. You’re right, of course.”My words are soft, designed to paint a picture of fragility. While anyone with a shred of compassion might be moved by the pain woven into them, Isolde remains unmoved. Naturally.“A worthy queen doe

The atmosphere around us is charged with a silent tension as the car finally pulls into the palace garage. I turn my face and stare at Seraphina, searching for any sign that these last few days in the countryside made any difference. But what I see is the same tired expression, the same weak smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, as if she’s wearing a mask merely out of obligation.“I thought a few days away, in the countryside with my mother, could help us improve things,” I say, trying to sound optimistic, even though I don't feel that hope within me. “Next time, we’ll go somewhere just the two of us.”Seraphina, however, doesn’t react as I expected. Her smile remains expressionless, almost as if it were carved from stone. The despondency that hangs over her is palpable, almost suffocating in the confined space of the car. If it weren’t for Alexander and his ridiculous request for support, maybe Seraphina and I could have fixed what was wrong between us. The sex, on the nights we spent i

“It was the least I could do for you, Aria,” Caelum responds, his deep, firm voice reverberating through my entire body. “Besides, I’m still investigating the rebel attacks, and the murder of your former boss at that time might have been connected to the Wolfspawn Renegades,” Caelum explains.My eyebrows lift, a mixture of surprise and discomfort washing over me, and I feel a slight tremor in my hands as I hear this. Am I still being investigated? For a moment, silence stretches between us, laden with a tension I hadn’t expected to feel. Caelum seems to pick up on my confusion, my unease, and steps forward to clarify, his emerald eyes locked onto mine as if he’s determined to dissolve my doubts immediately.“You are no longer the prime suspect in the murder,” he says, his voice taking on a reassuring tone that somehow only makes me more tense. “Rest easy. After your abduction and the death of his wife, our investigation pointed to others being involved.”A mix of relief and uncertaint

Feeling the wind glide through my fur has always brought me a peace that nothing else in the world can. It’s as if each breeze carries away a part of the restlessness that resides within me, lifting the weight of my thoughts and easing, even if temporarily, the burden I bear. Every gust connects me more deeply to the earth, to my most primal self, to the beast that lives within me. The firm forest floor beneath my paws anchors my mind, giving form to the chaos that constantly threatens to consume me. Each step I take as I run grants me a sense of control, of stability—something I so desperately lack when I’m in my human form.Shifting into a wolf, especially here in the heart of the Veridiana kingdom after so many years away, still comes with a mixture of surprise and relief. Everything around me is both familiar and distant. The sturdy trees, the bushes whispering in the wind, the scent of damp earth and leaves—all of it forms a scene that is part of me, that lives in my memory, yet

Trying to find the best way to start the conversation, my fingers tremble slightly as I hold the remote, and the sound of the click that turns off the television seems to echo throughout the room. The silence that follows is dense, pressing against my ears like an invisible weight.Alexander rises from the sofa with slow, almost deliberate movements, as if measuring the distance between us. His shoulders are rigid, tense, as though carrying the weight of five years of memories and regrets. His hands, hanging loosely at his sides, tremble faintly, and I notice the effort he puts into maintaining his composed posture.I cross my arms again, an instinctive reflex of protection. My palms are damp with sweat, and I try to discreetly wipe them against my arms. My eyes trace every detail of Alexander's stance, every nuance of his body language. There’s a tension and expectation in his movements, in his eyes that now hold mine with an intensity that sets my heart racing. What is he thinking?