All Chapters of Bonded to the Bastard: My Rejection, His Obsession: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Alanza’s POV“Sombra, down,” I muttered.I tried to slide the strange, smooth crystal back into the nightstand drawer. Sombra darted. Her furry body wedged between me and the wood, a low, insistent rumble in her chest. I sighed, pulling my hand back. The crystal felt warm against my palm.“I’m just putting it away,” I told her.She didn’t move. Her pale blue eyes were fixed on the object in my fist. I knew that stare. It meant she wasn't backing off. I shoved the crystal deep into the pocket of my jeans. The sudden, unnatural weight settled in my gut.Sombra’s tail gave a quick, satisfied thump against the carpet. She trotted toward the kitchen, pausing every few steps to glance over her shoulder. She expected me to follow.The smell of sautéed onions and peppers hit me when I walked through the doorway. My stomach gave a loud, empty growl. I moved to grab a plate. Sombra cut across my path, forcing me to sidestep hard against the counter. I shot her a quick glare.“Seriously, what is

Alanza’s POV“Dig? What do you mean, dig?”I stared at Sombra, confusion knotting in my gut. She stood on the mossy ground of the clearing, her thick fur barely moving.Precisely what I said, she replied. Her tone was flat. Dig.I looked at the soft dirt and scattered leaves covering the forest floor. “With what? My hands?” The idea of sticking my fingers into that cold, damp soil made my skin crawl.Sombra let out a short, annoyed huff. Yes, with your hands. I would do it myself, but… She paused, looking down at the ground with clear distaste. I don’t like to get mud between my claws.I couldn't help a dry snort. “Are you sure you’re not just a husky, then? That’s a very husky-like attitude, princess.”Sombra’s jaws snapped shut on air, a sharp click echoing in the quiet woods. Enough stalling, she growled, the sound low in her chest. Dig.I sighed, dropping to my knees. The movement felt clumsy. Scooping aside handfuls of damp earth, I started the job. Sombra watched, her tail swish

Luciano’s POV"Can I help who is next in line?"The voice is like a punch to my solar plexus. I have spent the last three weeks inhaling the ghost of her on unwashed pillowcases and lingering in the stairwell of her apartment building just to catch a stray note of vanilla and honey. Now, she is five feet away, separated from me by a laminated wood counter and a glass case of muffins.I step forward. My boots feel heavy, like I am walking through deep mud. Inside my chest, the wolf is a frantic, pacing mess of nerves. He wants to leap over the counter and bury his face in the crook of her neck. He wants to howl until the windows rattle. I just want her to look at me the way she did at the gala, before I ruined everything.Alanza doesn't look up at first. She is busy tapping something into the monitor. When she finally raises her eyes, I expect a scream. I expect her to throw the hot coffee in her hand at my face. I expect her to run.Instead, she looks right through me."Welcome to the

Alanza’s POV"Just keep walking and don't make a sound," the man grunts, his fingers digging into my bicep like iron hooks.The evening air usually feels crisp and clear after my late lecture, but tonight it carries a heavy, metallic rot. I was only twenty yards from the bus stop when the world split open. A sharp, electric pulse of pain slammed into the base of my skull, dropping me to the concrete before I could even gasp. Now, the yellow glow of the streetlights overhead swirls in dizzy circles as I struggle to find my feet.Alanza! Get up! You have to move right now!Sombra’s voice is a jagged blade in my mind, slicing through the fog of the physical blow. I try to lung forward, but the hand on my arm jerks me backward. The smell hits me then. It is thick and wild, a suffocating mix of wet fur and old sweat. It is the unmistakable scent of a shifter, but there is something broken about it. Something wrong.A black sedan screeches to

Alanza’s POV"Can you hear me? Wake up," a deep voice demands.The words feel like they are coming from underwater. I try to pull air into my lungs, but a sharp, stabbing heat in my chest cuts my breath short. My ribs are definitely broken. I keep my eyes squeezed shut for a second, trying to remember why the world smells like burnt rubber and gasoline.I force my eyelids open. Everything is a blur of gray smoke and shattered glass. I look to my left and see Martin. His head is hanging low, resting against the steering wheel. A dark, thick line of blood is sliding down from his hair, painting his skin. He isn't moving.I look toward the back. Mars is tangled in a heap on the floorboards. He looks like a discarded rag doll, soaked in red and unnervingly quiet. A hysterical thought flashes through my mind. I should have told him to wear a seatbelt.The irony doesn't make the pain go away. I grit my teeth and grab the edge of the passenger seat,