Semua Bab A Different Kind of Alpha: Blood Oath: Bab 31 - Bab 40

KieranMy study is not a sanctuary. Sanctuaries are places of peace, and no peace can be found here. This room is a fortress. It’s my armor, my command center, the one place in this cursed keep where my word is absolute law.The room itself is an inheritance I despise. It’s a cage lined with my father’s oppressive, opulent taste. Dark, heavy mahogany walls, a rug so thick it smothers all sound, and a massive, throne-like desk built to intimidate.It's a room that smells of old power, leather-bound ledgers, and the faint, bitter tang of disapproval that my father left staining everything.The library is where I go to breathe. The study is where I go to rule. Because as much as I despise the way my father made me feel, being in here forces me to show no weakness.In here, I am not the flustered, trembling man who woke up tangled in an enemy’s arms. I am not the furious, aroused wolf who was pinned in the dirt. In here, I am Alpha Kieran Arnulf. I am control. I am order. The ledgers bala

KieranIt’s been three days, and I am being suffocated.Politely. Charmingly. Relentlessly.Alexei Basov has decided that making my life easier is a full-contact sport. My new "Most Venerated Assistant" has, in fact, become my biggest problem.He’s not just a shadow, he’s an extra, 400-pound layer of muscle and leather I can't seem to shed. He’s there when I wake up, "consulting" with the guards outside my chamber door. He’s there at breakfast, sitting at my right hand, his knee brushing mine, stealing food from my plate in a blatant, now-normalized, display of intimacy that has Vorlag grinding his teeth to powder.He’s there in my study, offering blunt, infuriatingly astute strategic advice. He’s there in the training yard, a shirtless, sweating god of gorgeousness, effortlessly dismantling my pack’s form and rebuilding it with brutal efficiency.He’s everywhere. And the most infuriating part? It’s working. It’s helping. It’s making my life easier and giving me time to breathe.The

KieranI’ve survived an assassination attempt, only to be placed under house arrest by my own bodyguard, who’s appointed himself my new, non-negotiable, and utterly insufferable shadow.It’s been four days since the crossbow bolts. Four days since Alexei tackled me, roared at me, and made good on his threat."You're not leaving my sight again."I had thought, in my naivety, that he meant he’d be waiting outside every door.I was wrong.No matter which room I enter, he’s there. Making himself comfortable in a spot where he has a clear line of sight to both me and the door. And there he sits.All. Day.I am trying to run a pack. I am trying to forget about the fact that I’d be dead if it wasn’t for Alexei. I’m trying to get my life back to a semblance of normalcy. And I’m trying to do it to a soundtrack.Shing. Shing. Shing.He’s sharpening his knife. Again. It’s a long, wicked-looking blade, and he sharpens it with a slow, meditative, infuriating rhythm. The sound of steel on whetstone

AlexeiI can feel it the moment he pours himself completely into the kiss and forgets about everything else.The realization is a bolt of pure, triumphant fire in my gut. Kieran, my Kieran, Alpha of Silvercrest, the refined, untouchable, witty prince, is kissing me back with all the clumsy, desperate hunger of a starving wolf.His mouth is frantic against mine, all teeth and panicked pressure. He doesn't know what he's doing, and it’s the hottest, most intoxicating thing I’ve ever experienced. He’s not a politician. He’s not an Alpha. He’s just a man, terrified and needy, coming apart in my arms.He’s mine.I let him lead for a split second, let him pour all that pent-up fear and exhaustion and gratitude into the kiss. He tastes like purity undone. Soap, warmth, and the faint sting of want. It’s a combination that drives my wolf insane.He groans, a low, frustrated sound of pure need, and fists his hands in my jerkin, pulling me so close I can feel the frantic, rabbit-fast hammer of h

AlexeiKieran is hiding from me.It’s ridiculous, maddening, and so stupidly hot I can’t breathe. I’m in the training yard, a place that’s rapidly turned into my personal kingdom, and I’m supposed to be focused. I’m supposed to be turning this pack of polished, parade-ground pups into something that won’t immediately die when faced with a foe.But I’m not focused. I’m frustrated.My blood is still humming from last night. I can still taste him. The sharp, clean flavor of his skin, the salt and shock of his release. I can still feel the way his body, that beautiful, lean, aristocratic body, bowed off the bed as he came apart on my tongue.And now? He’s locked himself in his study.He thinks he can put the beast back in the cage. He thinks he can call our mutual attraction a biological necessity and that will be the end of that.He’s a terrible, terrible fool.I grin, easily disarming Tarek and sending his practice sword skittering into the dirt. "You're still telegraphing your moves.