All Chapters of SCAR OF THE REJECTED THORN : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

ANYAAlaric stood there.He was holding the tray himself, one hand steady beneath the polished wood, the other resting easily at his side. For someone so powerful, he looked surprisingly calm.For a second, I wondered why he was knocking in his own house.It felt strange, almost wrong, that someone like him, a man whose presence seemed to command the air, would knock before entering.Evelina’s demeanor changed the moment she saw her brother. The warmth in her violet eyes softened into something else, guarded, unreadable.“Brother,” she greeted.“Evelina,” he replied evenly, his gaze flicking from her to me, then back again.“I should leave you two,” she said, rising to her feet. She turned to me and smiled faintly. “We’ll talk later, Anya.”Before I could say anything, she was gone, the door closing quietly behind her.And just like that, the room felt smaller.I hadn’t really looked at him before, not properly. Every time I did, I was too caught up in fear, in the thought that he mig

ANYA When he said he wanted us to know more about each other, I couldn’t help but say yes. No matter how much I tried to deny it, I couldn’t shake the feeling of safety whenever he was around. It was strange, the kind of comfort that didn’t feel forced, the kind that simply was. For once, I didn’t feel the urge to hide myself or shrink away. Still, a part of me stayed cautious. I couldn’t let my heart fall too easily. I didn’t love Rafael, but his rejection still hurt. His insults even more so. The pain of being rejected by a mate cuts deeper than anyone can imagine, it lingers, burning through your chest long after the words are spoken. And now here I was, sitting across from a man who was everything Rafael wasn’t, strong, calm, and impossibly handsome. A king. Being with someone like him felt… strange. Unreal, even. But I needed to know him, really know him, to understand why fate had tied us together. “So, where should we start?” he asked first. His voice was calm, st

ALARIC She cried quietly in my arms, her small frame trembling against my chest. She powered off her phone and placed it on the bed before the tears came, silent, painful, and heavy. I didn’t think twice before pulling her closer. She didn’t resist. She simply leaned into me, her face pressed against my chest, trembling as though holding back everything she had buried for so long.I held her there, letting her cry. The sound of her quiet sobs filled the room, soft but sharp enough to cut through my chest. My wolf stirred deep within me, pacing restlessly.When she asked about my parents earlier, I had felt the anger rise again, not at her, never at her, but at their killers. The memory of that night still burned vividly: the screams, the blood, the scent of smoke. I had been too young, too powerless to stop it. Dorian’s father saved us, but the guilt of surviving has never left me.Even now, years later, I still can’t rest. Dorian and I have been investigating quietly, tracking whisp

ANYAThe moment I woke and saw where I was, my heart nearly stopped. Half of me was sprawled across Alaric, my hair tickling his face, his arm loosely around my waist. For a heartbeat, I didn’t move, just stared, frozen, heat rising to my cheeks.Then reality hit me all at once.I scrambled up, muttering something that probably wasn’t even words, and darted to the bathroom. My reflection stared back at me, flushed cheeks, messy hair, wide eyes filled with disbelief.What just happened?I splashed cold water on my face, trying to calm my racing heart. I’d been sleeping in Alaric’s room since I got here, but he’d always made sure to give me space. He’d never once crossed a line. And now… waking up like that, tangled in his arms, it felt wrong.But it didn’t.The warmth of him still lingered on my skin, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoing faintly in my memory. It had felt… safe. Like nothing could touch me when he was there.I gripped the sink tighter. “Get yourself together, Anya

ANYA “Do I need to change?” I asked, glancing down at my simple outfit. I didn’t want to embarrass her; she was elegance itself, her black hair flowing in soft waves, her golden earrings catching the light. Evelina laughed, an easy, melodic laugh that made her eyes sparkle. “No, sweetheart,” she said, waving a manicured hand dismissively. “You look perfect just like that.” Before I could ask where we were going, she took my hand, her fingers warm, steady, confident, and led me toward the door. Outside, a sleek black car waited. Its windows were tinted, the paint polished until it reflected the morning sun like a pool of black glass. Behind it, another car idled quietly, two bodyguards standing beside it with heads bowed in quiet respect. It all felt surreal, too much, too grand, too royal. But Evelina’s soft hum and her casual wave to the driver made everything seem… normal. Like it wasn’t strange at all for her to have an escort and a convoy. As the palace gates opened and the c