All Chapters of The Bride Who Returned From Death: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Killian’s POVThe moment I saw her standing there in that black lace, every rational thought vanished.My wolf surged forward, demanding I claim her immediately. Pin her down. Make her mine in every way possible. But I forced myself to stay controlled, to draw this out, to make her feel every second of anticipation.Watching her restrained, completely at my mercy, was the most erotic thing I’d ever seen.“Ah! Killian, please!” Her voice was desperate, her body trembling against the restraints.I moved to the wall where I kept my tools, selecting a leather riding whip. It was one of my favorites, firm enough to sting but designed not to truly hurt.“Please what?” I asked, trailing the crop along her inner thigh.“I can’t… oh god, I can’t hold it much longer!”“You can,” I said firmly. “And you will.”I brought the whip down against her ass, not hard, just enough to leave a warm sting.“Fuck!” she cried out, her back arching.The way she reacted to the pain sent heat straight to my cock

Lyra’s POV The silence that followed my question was deafening. Mona’s mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. Her perfect composure had finally cracked, and I savored every second of it. The other women exchanged glances, uncertainty replacing their earlier smugness. The mate mark changed everything, and they knew it. Marisol’s expression had soured considerably, her earlier amusement gone. She set down her teacup with more force than necessary. “Well,” she said, her voice still sweet but with an edge now. “A mark is certainly… significant. But it doesn’t change certain realities.” “What realities?” I asked. “The pregnancy, for instance.” Her eyes dropped to my still-flat stomach. “You’ve been claiming to carry an heir, but we’ve seen no proof. And marks can be given for many reasons, as Mona said. Passion, politics, even mistakes made in the heat of the moment.” My jaw tightened, but I kept my expression neutral. Marisol gestured to my teacup, which I’d barely touch

Lyra’s POVThe Northern Pack estate came into view as Damon’s car rounded the final bend. My mind was still reeling from everything we’d discovered at the abandoned house, the dark magic that had lingered for seventeen years, the connection to the current threats.But as we pulled through the gates, all thoughts of magic and murder scattered.Killian stood at the edge of the training grounds, surrounded by a group of warriors. He was clearly mid-briefing, gesturing toward training equipment while the others listened intently. His shirt clung to his body with sweat, suggesting he’d been demonstrating techniques himself.The moment I stepped out of the car, I felt it.His attention snapped toward me like a physical force. Even from this distance, I could feel the weight of his gaze, the mate bond humming between us with sudden intensity.Killian stopped talking mid-sentence. His head turned fully in our direction, and I watched as his expression shifted. Recognition first, then somethin

Lyra’s POVThe fitting room was filled with dresses in various shades of blue and silver, fabrics spilling across chairs and hanging from racks. Amy and Valeria had insisted on helping me update my wardrobe, claiming that if I was going to be Luna, I needed to look the part.I stood on a small platform while Amy adjusted the hem of a deep navy gown, pins between her lips. Valeria sat nearby, offering opinions on each dress.“That color is stunning on you,” Valeria said, nodding approvingly. “Makes your eyes stand out.”“Thanks,” I said, though my mind was elsewhere.I couldn’t stop thinking about Killian’s threat earlier. The way he’d kissed me in front of everyone, then whispered that I’d be punished for lying. The promise in his voice had sent shivers down my spine, equal parts anticipation and apprehension.Two maids entered the room carrying more dresses. They moved to hang them up, but their whispered conversation carried across the space.“Did you see them?” one asked the other,

Killian’s POVI’d been sitting in that medical room for three hours, and every minute felt like torture.Mona had recovered almost immediately after the physician examined her. Low blood sugar, she said. Nothing serious. She could have easily rested in her own room.But my mother had insisted I stay. And Mona had played her part perfectly, acting weak and fragile, needing constant attention.It was an act. I knew it very well. Every delicate sigh, every pained expression, every time she “accidentally” touched my hand… her obvious manipulation designed to make her look like the perfect, gentle Luna candidate.It made my skin crawl.“Killian,” she said softly, her voice carrying that breathy quality that probably worked on most men. “Could you… would you help me eat? I’m still feeling so weak.”I stared at the bowl of soup in my hands, then at her expectant face.“No.”Her eyes widened in perfectly practiced surprise. “But I can barely lift my arms…”“You lifted them fine when you were