All Chapters of Deranged Alpha and His Chosen Mate: Chapter 31 - Chapter 37

DAMIANA blast of cold, old magic bursts through the air. It encircles me like many hands, pinning me to the table and blocking my attempt at reaching Sir Gerad. The elder shivers back, his eyes wide in shock. As do the others. But no one is more shocked than me–the Regent Alpha who is frozen in time, muscles pressed hard against the cold surface of the council table. I grit my teeth and force my muscles against the magic effect. But the more I push, the faster my wolf rescinds, the partial transformation becoming undone in a matter of seconds. When I try again, I hear a voice rock the entire chamber, as all eyes avert from me to the source.“ENOUGH!” The voice is oddly familiar, and weirdly comforting. It is firm, containing with hints of danger if not heeded. I cannot turn or move my body because of the spell but I can tell–whoever this person is–he does pack some punch. Eventually, the restraint comes off and I jerk around to see who dared. But the moment I meet his face, my

DAMIANShe was there. My heart pounds faster at the realization of this. As Sir Wicker says, I should not have come back from it. But here I am. Now, it burns me in the face about how silly I have been. About the excuse I have been making for her–Opelia. Willingly turning a blind eye to what she represents in hopes that some day, she would come clean to me. But twice does the trick. “Ah!’ I sigh out, massaging my temples with one hand–So I was not wrong to have come at it like that? Vindication floods my heart at this. Yet at the same time, I feel a flutter in it, as I make yet another excuse for her, again–She’s only waiting for the right moment to tell you, Damian.I ground my teeth at this, distracted by the blind elder’s gentle whisper. “You say?” I ask. “Ophelia…” Sir Wicker repeats, as if he's tasting the words, rolling it on his tongue as much as he could. “And who is this Ophelia?” I swallow, suddenly feel self-conscious at the mention of her name. “She’s my bride. I

DAMIANI slam the door faster and harder than I want to. Not wanting extra gossip on me, I am a bit worried that someone may have heard that. Yet I find comfort in the fact that it is better–far better than standing there and taking the nonsense she throws at me. My eyes narrow, expression hardens as I clench my jaws. I thought we had something special going on? Why this suddenly? It is almost as if we are back to being strangers. Considering my heritage, saying and keeping my words are very important to my person–and my office. And while I know that I performed subpar to the expectations, there is an explanation for this. Should I have thrown Sir Wicker out instead of receiving him properly just because she was waiting for me? Sir Wicker is like a father to me, and his presence in the castle means a lot. Both to the people and my father. I made the best of decisions to spend time with her because we are married together– she could wait. Sir Wicker could not–he is always moving

Yeah, walk away. That’s all you can do best. Her words eat deep at me echoing in my head like someone tapping a metal spoon against the edge of glass. I grit my teeth, feeling the rising heat in my guts for her audacious statement. For a moment, only silence rocks the breakfast table. The only persistent sounds being the clink of silverware as the wolves pretentiously devour their meals, as if totally ignorant of the brawl between Ophelia and I. My jaw clenches. My muscles spasms. Every inch of me cries and begs for me to react, body swelling with righteous anger– aching to be let out. To let loose on her. On Ophelia and her loose tongue, and for always trying to get on my nerves. A part of me roars with the approval to go all out. I am Regent Alpha and if I cannot put my wife in place, then how can I demand respect from anyone? If it cannot even start from my house? I grind my teeth in dissatisfaction, my chest welling with rage. I feel my wolf– feral and savage, growing to be