Todos los capítulos de One More Hot Contract with the Shadow Alpha: Capítulo 121 - Capítulo 130

CORALINA'S POV The treaty isn’t written on parchment; it is signed in the sudden, heavy silence of three hundred wolves surrendering their wildness to the mountain. I stand at the center of the frozen river, my bare feet sinking slightly into the powdered frost coating the thick sheets of ice. The bitter northern wind tries to rip the sea-bear fur cloak from my shoulders, but the geothermal furnace in my veins keeps the cold from ever touching my skin. Beneath my navel, the dual-lineage pup is perfectly calm, its golden-purple pulse a warm, steady heartbeat that mirrors my own. Clyde doesn't let go of me. His massive, blood-splattered arm is clamped around my waist with a territorial tightness that borders on bruising, his large palm resting flat over the curve of my stomach. His breathing is still a ragged, primeval bass against my neck, his molten gold eyes glaring down at the kneeling form of Alpha Jaxon. The crimson-furred warlord of the deep South remains propped up on his h

CORALINA'S POV The blinding surge of pure, concentrated gold-and-violet fire rips through my abdomen with the force of a tectonic shift, making my eyes snap open in the pitch-black sanctuary of our den. I choke on a breath, my spine arching off the mattress as the sheer, raw heat of the first true contraction turns my blood to boiling magma. It is not a volatile backfire. It is the primitive, elemental awakening of the legendary dual-lineage bloodline within me, demanding its release. The skin over my stomach lights up, the faint, intricate veins of golden-purple static glowing brilliantly through the thin silk of my torn robe, casting a vivid, pulsing halo against the dark timber beams of the ceiling. Beside me, Clyde’s reaction is instantaneous and absolute. Before the gasp can even fully clear my throat, his golden eyes ignite in the dark like twin suns. The primal mate-bond between our souls thrashes with a sudden, agonizing spike of shared pain and hyper-vigilant terror. He

CORALINA'S POV The thunderous, unified howl of a thousand wolves still echoes through the timber beams of the grand hall, a primal baseline that seals our triumph into the very stone of the mountain. Standing on the high dais beside the twin obsidian thrones, I look out over the sea of bent heads and lowered iron spears. The traditionalist elders, the coastal marshals, and Jaxon’s deep-jungle purebloods are all kneeling in the same frost-dusted slush, their separate identities permanently erased under the singular banner of our rule. The division of the continent is dead. The empire is absolute. Beside me, Clyde slowly lowers our son from the presentation, drawing the tiny, silver-charcoal silk bundle back against the massive expanse of his bare bronze chest. The moment the baby is tucked safely against his heartbeat, Clyde's shadow-aura changes. The long, majestic eclipse that had flooded the rafters pulls back instantly, wrapping around my waist and the baby like a thick, defensi

CORALINA'S POV There is a heavy silence of the high spire, that's broken only by the soft, rhythmic crackle of the hearth fire and the tiny, contented huffs of our sleeping son. I stayed leaning against the carved edge of the cedar cradle, my fingers loosely tangled in Clyde’s broad, calloused hand. Through the dark silk of my robe, the permanent gold-and-violet current of my stabilized fire hums a slow, comforting melody, answering the heavy, territorial bass of the shadow-energy rolling off his skin. We have spent days locked away in this sanctuary, letting the world reshape itself around our absence, but the mountain does not let its sovereigns hide forever. Without a single sound passing through the heavy stone, the air inside our bedchamber suddenly tightens. The velvety puddle of midnight ink carpeted across the floorboards instantly grows rigid, its lazy ripples hardening into sharp, defensive spikes of pure shadow-static. Clyde’s chest locks against my back, his posture t

CORALINA'S POVThe rapid, unprecedented development of a royal pureblood is not a quiet progression; it is a swift, majestic storm that alters the very physics of the den. Only a handful of weeks have passed since the night the birth-fever broke, yet the tiny, fragile infant who once slept curled against my collarbone has already outgrown the carved cedar cradle by the hearth. Aiden’s development runs at a terrifying, hyper-accelerated pace—a classic marker of the legendary dual-lineage bloodline pulsing through his veins. One morning he is a silver-charcoal pup chasing the shadows cast by the firelight; the next, he is shifting seamlessly back into human skin mid-stride, his plump legs steady, his golden eyes flashing with a precocious, ancient intelligence that mirrors both his father's warlord depth and my own restored pre-Pulse acuity. I stand near the frosted glass windows of our private sanctuary, the dark silk of my robe rippling around my ankles as I watch our son stand at t