All Chapters of A Different Kind of Alpha: Blood Oath: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

AlexeiThe hall is still in my bones.Not Vorlag’s thin, hungry smile, or the pack’s reaction. Kieran.Kieran with his hand on my neck like it belongs there. Kieran saying it out loud, in front of everyone, like he’s done pretending I’m a bad habit instead of a choice.My wolf has been strutting around ever since, tail high, smug as sin.I’m trying to act normal.Normal, for me, looks like sitting on the edge of Kieran’s bed, while he sleeps behind me like he isn’t the most dangerous thing in this keep.A hot, impulsive part of me wants to crawl back in, drag him against my chest, and make him wake up with my bite on his throat and my name on his tongue.A colder part of me, the part that learned how to survive Redmaw, counts the seconds between heartbeats and listens for the sound of boots in the corridor.Kieran stirs when I get up, brow pulling tight for a heartbeat, like his body misses me before his mind even wakes.I pause, watching him.“I’ll be back,” I whisper, because appare

VorlagThe Keep smells different lately.It used to carry the sharp, metallic tang of necessary fear. Under Alaric, the air had weight. You walked the corridors knowing your place, knowing the consequences of a misplaced step or a loud voice. It was a clean smell. Orderly.Now, it smells of hope.It reeks of it.I stand on the balcony overlooking the lower courtyard, my hands resting on the cold stone balustrade.Below, the scene is disgusting in its cheerfulness. The gates are flung open, allowing a stream of petitioners to filter in. There are children running near the stables. A guard is laughing with a baker.It’s loose. It’s sloppy. It’s rot disguised as bloom.Kieran calls this strength. He calls it "unity." He thinks that because they cheered him when he stood in the Great Hall and practically dared the council to challenge his inappropriate choice of bedding partner, that he has won.He thinks the silence of the elders is submission.He is very young and very naive. “My Lord.

KieranThe map of the keep is burned into the back of my eyelids.I don’t need to look at the parchment spread across my desk to know the weak points. The postern gate near the kitchens. The drainage grate in the lower cellar. The servant’s entrance behind the stables.I’ve been pacing for an hour.“I can think of better ways for you to burn off that restless energy,” Alexei offers.He’s lying on his back on the rug in front of the hearth, arms thrown out, staring at the ceiling with the absolute, unnerving stillness of a predator waiting for a rabbit to break cover.“Not now, I’m thinking.” “You’re obsessing,” he corrects without looking at me. “I’m thinking about the fact that you walked into the Council Chamber bleeding yesterday,” I say, the words coming out sharper than intended. “And that I still don’t know who was responsible for it.”Alexei sits up fluidly, resting his elbows on his knees, looking at me. In the firelight, his eyes are dark pools, unreadable and entirely too

KieranThe door slams shut with a force that rattles the iron hinges, the sound cracking through the room like a gunshot.I cross the floor, fueled by a cold, blinding acceleration that feels less like anger and more like a slow motion crash. I reach the heavy oak desk and sweep the stack of perfectly organized ledgers onto the floor. They hit the stone with a chaotic crash, inkpots shattering and spilling their contents everywhere.It’s a childish display. I don’t care. The fury inside me has to go somewhere. "Kieran," Alexei starts, his voice low and cautious.I spin on him. "You shut up."He stands near the door, water dripping from his cloak, pooling on the rug. He looks wary. He fucking should be. I’ve wanted to strangle him in frustration before, but I’ve never looked at him and felt the urge to actually hit him."You lied to me," I say. The words come out quiet, vibrating in the air between us. "You looked me in the eye, and you lied to my face.""I omitted a detail," Alexe

AlexeiThe air in the Great Hall is still buzzing with the aftershocks of Rask’s arrest. Kieran is sitting on the dais, listening to Lyra explain the legal precedence for seizing an Elder’s assets. He looks tired, but steady. Like a man who finally cleared the rot out of his floorboards.I’m leaning against a pillar, watching him, thinking about later. About the bath I’m going to draw for him, and the very specific, very slow way I’m going to wash the weight of leadership off his back.Then the main doors bang open and a scout stumbles in. One of the runners from the outer perimeter. He’s covered in mud, breathless, his eyes wide with terror.Kieran is on his feet before the echo dies. “Report.”The runner falls to his knees. “The ridge patrol. The relief column. They... Gods, Alpha, they’re gone.”The silence that hits the room is instant and suffocating.“Gone?” Kieran asks, his voice very quiet.“Ambushed,” the scout chokes out. “At the gorge. Mercenaries. They didn’t leave anyone