Bound To The Immortal Beast のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 11 - チャプター 20

Their boots scrape against the tiles. Voices slur as they chatter.“Man, you should see her boobs. Round and large like the head of a cow,” one says.“Did you suck on them?” the second male asks.“Oh yes, I did. She is a screamer too. Clawed at me for a release. Can’t blame her though. It was her heat.”“Shouldn’t you be bothered about your mate who is pregnant?” the third male asks. “Aren’t you afraid she might sense you’re cheating on her?”“Says the male who has over seven women carrying his child.”“I’m not married to them. And I don’t plan to.”“Sucker.”I roll my eyes. Raina was right about men in this place. They treat lives like coins and property. Especially women.I just hope they get out soon. I need to find a way back to the house, which is a twenty‑minute drive away.“Speaking of marriage,” the second male chimes in. “Are we just going to ignore the rumor that Drogo is married?"I freeze.“Nonsense. I do not believe such a thing.”“So do I. No sane woman will marry Drogo.

My dreadful father had always wondered how I miraculously stayed alive, despite all the hate around me.Even the Omegas were not treated as harshly as I was.I survived by staying low, quiet, and obedient while studying every nook and corner. Every character. And every careless gossip.Being a servant is what I’ve done my whole life. It silently gave me access where others couldn't reach. With it, I tricked the guards, prevented rape and deadly schemes from Miranda and Beth.It was how I stole food for my mother and myself. How I slipped in and out of places without being noticed.I’m going to do same in Drogo’s territory. This time. Not only for survival. But to save the people that Drogo might forcibly have in his territory.After all, the rogue Alpha is not a good man.Yes. I know how dangerous this is. Spying on the rogue Alpha is far riskier than deceiving my father’s guards. He has his eyes on me, and for some unknown reason, he doesn’t want me dead... yet.“Are you fucking ki

DROGOThe bag jerks on its chain with every strike, leather groaning under my fist. Sweat drips from the curve of my jaw, falling soundlessly to the floor. My knuckles throb, my breath seizes with every hit. But I don’t stop.A hiss slips between my teeth as the eleventh bag bursts, swallowing my fist.Weren’t these bags supposed to be strong?Fûck.I draw my hand out with a sharp inhale. The sand follows, scattering and cracking against the floor. Then I grab the bottle of whiskey on the bench and let the liquor burn its way down my throat. The burn irritates me, but I need anything that will keep my wolf at bay.It's hungry. Really fucking hungry, and I will not give it what it wants. I lust over her, and I curse myself for feeling anything from her touch when no other woman could do the same. She was my curse two centuries ago, and the moon goddess sure knows how to play their tricks.And that I will not give in. The door creaks open, Bran steps in, and sighs as he takes in the s

ISOLDE The room tilts at the strange old woman’s words, and the more I think about them, the less they make sense.“D… dying?” My throat tightens. “Who are you, and why would you say that?”“I’m Morgan, a high sorcerer, and yes, you heard me right, child. No medication can fix your predicament unless you get your wolf back.”A single bead of sweat traces a path down the side of my head.“Inner wolves are like half of a werewolf’s soul. They grow attached as you age, as the human form cannot stand alone, especially…” She pauses, tapping her staff against the floor. “When you carry Alpha blood. You will wither away and die. The signs are already manifesting.”My knees buckle, and I stagger, barely catching myself. I study Morgan closely, waiting for her to laugh and admit it was a trick.Nothing. Her expression remains serious.And judging by her aura, she is not a kind to bluff.“What should I do?” I whisper, hearing the panic in my own voice. “I… I didn’t know it would be like this.”

DROGOMy eyes snap open wide, beads of sweat gliding down the frame of my face. I am breathing heavily, like I had just run many miles.Gripping my forehead, I groan at the voices ringing in my ears. The pain. The torturing memories that have not left since centuries ago.No matter how hard I try to convince myself to get used to it, it never works. They never fade, like it all happened just yesterday.That red-haired woman. The one who doomed me remains buried in the depths of my memories.And now she is lying on my king-size bed, her red locks sprawled across the sheets. Her face is marred with dried tears, her lips and skin pale.I stare at her lean frame for a long time, fingers clutched together. No matter how hard I try to see her as innocent, to believe she is another person entirely, the memories prove me wrong.If the Moon Goddess truly wanted to answer my prayers and end the curse, why send me the face of the woman who caused it all?Perhaps all of this is a trick. Morgan wa