Todos los capítulos de Alpha Maddox's Mortal Temptation : Capítulo 111 - Capítulo 120

Lucien has a mate, which is apparently amazing. But his mate is stuck among my people while he’s married to me.“I’m so sorry,” I blurt out.His gaze is calm. Too calm. “You shouldn’t be sorry.”“I can be sorry if I want to. I can apologize. I can prostrate myself and—”“Why are you apologizing?”“Because. In a year at the most I’m going to peace out.” His well-being is not my responsibility, but already so much has been taken from him—and swiftly exchanged with bricks of duty. “You’ll be able to be with your mate, and you’ll live bitingly ever after. There’s biting involved, right?”“Yeah. The bite is . .” His gaze flickers down to my neck. Lingers. “Important.”“It looks painful. Mick’s, I mean.”“No,” he husks, eyes on me. My pulse flickers. “Not if it’s done right.”He must have one on his body. A secret buried into his skin, under the soft cotton of his T-shirt. And he must have left one on his mate, a raised scar to guide him home, to be traced in the middle of the night.And th

“May I touch you?” He’s asking for permission, but there’s nothing insecure or tentative about it. I nod. “Weres have scent glands—here.” He brushes the pad of his thumb against the hollow on the left side of my throat. “Here.” The right side. “And here.” His hand wraps around my neck, palm flush against my nape. “Your wrists, too.”“Ah.” I clear my throat. And resist the urge to squirm, because I’m feeling . . . I have no idea. It’s the way he looks at me. His pale, piercing eyes.“This is a, um, fascinating anatomy lecture, but—Oh, shit. The green markings, at our wedding! But I—”“You don’t have scent glands,” he says, like I’m more predictable than taxes, “but you do have pulse points, where your blood pumps closer to the surface, and the heat—”“—will augment the scent. I’m familiar with the whole blood thing.”He nods and holds my eyes expectantly, until he understands that I have no clue what he’s waiting for. “Seraphine. Do I have your permission?”I could say no. I know that

Dinner is a weird affair, not in the least because I’m served a plate of cavatelli and a glass of red wine that looks enticingly like blood.It’s standard for the mate and children of the former Alpha to maintain formal relationships with the current leadership, and several Weres have been invited for the weekend.Tonight, though, it’s just the three of us at the table, and I’m too clueless regarding Were affairs to participate in the conversation.I try to follow as they talk about borders, alliances, other packs, but it’s like starting a triple-timeline TV show from season four. Too many plot points, characters, world-building details.What I can do is appreciate the complex dynamics at play during the meal, and the expert way Lucien navigates them. No one mentions that he killed Roscoe, and I’m grateful for that.We’re escorted to our room early in the morning. There is one bed, which will luckily not lead to any weird sharing situation, because I’ll disappear into the closet the s

I’m utterly ashamed. And other things that I’m unlikely to be able to articulate. My hands are trembling, so I curl my fists into the cotton coverlet. “I’m sorry. I went too far.”“My feelings are mine to deal with. Not hers.”I cannot help myself. I lick my lips and say, “It’s just—”“Seraphine.”It’s that tone again. The Alpha one. The one that makes me want to say yes to him, over and over again.“I’m sorry,” I repeat, but I think I’m forgiven. I think Lucien is simply too big a person to hold grudges. I think Lucien is too fucking principled for his own good, and doesn’t deserve to have his heart broken, or his life only half full. “Shall I retreat into the closet in shame? So you don’t have to see me?”His mouth twitches. Definitely forgiven. “I can just turn the other way.”“Right. Will you have to . . . scent me again? Tomorrow?”His smile disappears. “No. The message came across. They think you’re important to me now.”“Okay.” I scratch my temple and do not ruminate over the

Zane is an asshole, in the most delicious and entertaining of ways. He seems to have distinct preferences, strong opinions, and little interest in keeping either to himself.“Let’s all thank Lucien for the opportunity to not have to tune out one of Roscoe’s deranged rants tonight,” he proclaims loudly while taking a seat at the dinner table.I nearly choke on my spit, but no one else appears concerned that a brawl might be on the verge of erupting, not even Emery.I’m relieved that he doesn’t hate me. The opposite, actually: when we meet, he clasps my shoulder and pulls me in for a bear hug that has me wondering whether he’s aware that I’m a Vampyre, or that Lucien and I are not actually married. He must be around ten years older than us, somewhere between a big brother and a father figure for Lucien. But before dinner, when I watched them talk—two tall men wearing identical button-downs and exchanging hushed, comfortable words—the mutual affection and respect was obvious.And yet, t