The Alpha King's One-Time Rejected Mate のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 151 - チャプター 160

The growl was not entirely his. It was a dual sound, a harmony of man and wolf, of Reign and Bain, finally in accord. The last of his control, the flimsy shield he’d worn for a lifetime, shattered into a million pieces. He crossed the space between them in a single, powerful stride, the scent of her—rosemary, bread, and something uniquely Celeste—flooding his senses and obliterating everything else.His hands were on her, not with the gentle reverence he’d imagined, but with a desperate, possessive need. He lifted her, and her legs wrapped around his waist as if they were made to lock together. Her skin was soft and warm against his calloused hands, a perfect contrast. He claimed her mouth, and it was not a kiss of exploration but of claiming. It was hungry, deep, a conversation they had been denying for months. She met him with equal fire, her nails digging into his shoulders, pulling him closer, silently demanding more.He set her down on the cool stone of the kitchen floor, his bod

Sienna POVThe kitchen smelled of rosemary, hot iron, and slow-roasted meat—something that made a wolf’s instincts stir.Sienna stood barefoot at the counter, one hip pressed into the worn oak, fingers steady as she chopped garlic. The rhythm calmed her. It always had. Chop. Drag. Chop. Drag. Control something small when everything else felt… not.That was when the air shifted.Not a sound.Not a scent.A pressure.Sienna froze, knife mid-lift.Her skin prickled. The kind of awareness you didn’t learn—you inherited it. She turned slowly.Celeste stood near the doorway, pale as moonlight, edges soft, not quite solid. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders, eyes too bright, body faintly translucent like fog caught in a human shape.Sienna didn’t scream.She swung.The knife passed cleanly through Celeste’s ribs.Celeste blinked, then arched a brow. “Wow,” she said dryly. “And here I thought you’d hug me.”Sienna exhaled sharply, heart pounding. “You’re not actually here.”Celeste glan

Obsidian RidgeThe portal closed behind Talia with a sharp crack of displaced air.She didn’t linger.Anxiety pressed hard against her ribs as her boots hit stone—Obsidian Ridge familiar beneath her feet, steady, anchored, home. Relief flickered, but it didn’t settle. Not yet.Lucian would listen. She knew that. Her mate was a reasonable man. A steady Alpha. His wolf is even more so.But reason didn’t erase risk.And this plan was nothing but risk braided into hope.Talia exhaled and turned sharply down the corridor.She wished Dorian were already here.Not because Lucian couldn’t handle this, but because Dorian’s presence changed the temperature of the rooms. He steadied conversations simply by existing in them. His wolf didn’t posture. Didn’t rush. He watched. And right now, watching mattered.Because the alternative—the darker possibility clawing at the back of her mind—was unbearable.What if Thomas was setting a trap?What if this binding was another portal like the one that swal

The next day, everyone went to work on their assigned tasks.The air in the Shadowmere tunnels was cool, carrying the scent of earth and centuries of stagnation.The library had been sealed for decades, ever since Thomas had used a chamber near here as a portal entry for a witch. That history hung heavy in the air, a phantom itch that made the fur on the back of one’s neck stand up."Watch your step," Jael murmured, his large hand hovering near the small of Amalia’s back without actually crowding her.Amalia adjusted her shawl, glancing behind them. Two pack warriors trailed a respectful distance away, their eyes scanning the dark corners."Jael," Amalia whispered, amused. "I’m an elite warrior. I think I can handle a dusty library.""You are a warrior," Jael agreed easily, his deep voice echoing slightly off the stone walls. "But you are also carrying my first and only pup. If a spider looks at you the wrong way, I want it dead before you even have to frown at it."Amalia softened, h

Sienna POV — WyomingThe cameras went dark all at once.Not a glitch.Not a power failure.A deliberate silence.Every telecam feed across the wall blinked to black—Montana, South Dakota, Obsidian Ridge—cut clean in the same breath. The warded house fell into a hush that felt too intentional to be a coincidence.Celeste felt it before anyone spoke.The frost on the window was his.Not winter.Not Wyoming.Him.Thomas Calder.The cold was pressed to the glass like breath against skin—close enough to feel, not close enough to touch. He hadn’t crossed the wards. He hadn’t needed to.He was listening.Sienna swallowed, her pulse slow but heavy in her throat. Her mother stood beside her, Sera’s presence firm, steady, but held tight in restraint. Sera knew. Of course she did.Mates always knew.Then Celeste’s voice broke the silence through the residual link.“I felt something.”Everyone froze.“Outside the wards,” Celeste continued. “It was… my father. But not the way he used to feel.”Sie