บททั้งหมดของ A Different Kind of Alpha: Blood Oath: บทที่ 171 - บทที่ 180

AlexeiRun.The command is simple. It is the only thing that makes sense.My paws strike the frozen earth, a rhythmic drumbeat that vibrates up my legs and into my chest. The impact jars my bones, sending shocks of pain through shins that are already splinted with exhaustion, but I welcome it. The physical sensation is a distraction. It drowns out the howling void in my chest where my heart used to be.I am a blur of gray fur and muscle moving through the undergrowth. The forest here is dense, an ancient tangle of roots and rot that doesn’t welcome strangers. The air is sharp, biting at my nose, smelling of pine, wet decay, and the metallic tang of snow that hasn’t fallen yet.I push harder. I lengthen my stride, my claws tearing up the permafrost. I run until my lungs burn, until the muscles in my haunches scream for mercy.Faster.If I run fast enough, maybe I can outrun the memory of his face.Kieran.The name echoes in my wolf-mind, a high-pitched whine of distress that I refuse

AlexeiThe scent of the enemy is a physical weight in the air.It smells of stale ale, unwashed bodies, and the iron tang of weapons that have been sharpened too often. It smells of arrogance.I crouch in the brush, the freezing mud seeping into my knees, watching the mouth of the cave. It’s well chosen, high up on a ridge, protected by a scree slope that would make a silent approach impossible for anyone but a wolf or a ghost.Currently I am both.There are six of them. I don’t know what happened to the rest. Dead or deserted, but these are what’s left of the group of mercenaries.Three are sitting around a fire just inside the cave entrance, gambling with bone dice. Two are sleeping on bedrolls further back. One is standing guard, leaning against the rock wall, staring out into the darkness with the bored glaze of a man who thinks he’s safe.I’ve never seen them before, but there’s no doubt that this is them. These are the men who led ten terrified boys into a box canyon and slaught

KieranI’m terrorizing a junior scribe, and finding it immensely satisfying."This is illegible," I say, my voice calm, smooth, and utterly lethal. I hold up the ledger for the western granary stores. "Is this a five, Elian? Or is it a spider that has been crushed to death on the page?"Elian is trembling so violently I worry he might vibrate out of existence. "It’s-it’s a five, Alpha.""A five," I repeat. "So we have five hundred bushels of wheat? Or do we have spider-hundred? Because if I have to guess, Elian, I will guess the lower number, and when the winter rations run out, I will personally direct the hungry families to your quarters for dinner.""I will rewrite it, Alpha. Immediately.""You will rewrite the entire ledger," I correct him. "And you will do it without ink blots. If I see a single smudge, I will have you reassigned to the latrine detail. Am I clear?""Crystal, Alpha."He snatches the book and flees.I watch him go. It’s petty to take my mood out on the staff, but i

KieranI’m dissecting a supply request for the southern watchtower, and I’m doing it with a level of vitriol usually reserved for war crimes."Lyra," I say, my voice smooth and dangerously quiet. "Please explain to me why the garrison requires forty new blankets. Did the old ones spontaneously combust? Or did the recruits simply decide that wool was too abrasive for their delicate sensibilities?"Lyra, standing on the other side of my desk, doesn’t flinch. She’s used to my edges. What she’s not used to is the six-foot-four wall of muscle currently leaning against the doorframe of my office, radiating heat and stubbornness."The winter has been harsh, Alpha," Lyra says diplomatically. "The night watch is freezing. Cold soldiers are slow soldiers.""Fine," I snap, dipping my quill into the ink. "Authorize the purchase. I can’t have them shivering, a shaking hand misses the target. But deduct the cost from the officers' wine budget."I sign the order with a flourish that nearly tears the

KieranThis isn't love making. It isn't even sex. It’s a demolition.We’re a tangle of limbs and teeth on a bed that feels too large for one person and barely big enough for the violence of this reunion. I’m on top of him, straddling his hips, my hands tangled in his hair, yanking his head back to expose his throat.I want to tear it out.I want to bite down until I taste copper. I want to leave a mark that will never fade, a scar that screams mine."You," I snarl, the word tearing out of my throat.I don't have the breath for a sentence. I don't have the words for the magnitude of my hatred, which is currently indistinguishable from the magnitude of my need.I kiss him. I bruise his mouth. I force his lips apart with my tongue, invading him, claiming the space, demanding he taste the blood from my split lip and the bile of my three weeks of starvation.He takes it.He takes everything. He lies there, his hands gripping my waist, his thumbs digging into my hip bones, anchoring me. He m