All Chapters of The 200-Year Bride Swap: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

His lips crash against mine, and the kiss is searing, a wild mix of desperation and relief. It’s a claiming, a surrender, and I match his intensity with a need of my own. My fingers dig into his shoulders, pulling him closer, and he groans against my mouth, the sound vibrating through me like a spark catching fire.We tumble onto the bed, our limbs tangling as the last of our defenses crumble. Rocco’s hands roam over my body, his touch both gentle and insistent, like he’s memorizing every curve, every shiver. My own hands explore the hard planes of his chest, the smoothness of his skin. I can feel the tension in his muscles, the restrained power that lies just beneath the surface, and it only makes me crave him more.Rocco’s mouth trails down my neck, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin, and I arch into him, my breath hitching. His fingers slide under my bloodied pajama shirt, pushing it up and over my head, and I shiver as the cool air meets my heated skin. His gaze travels ove

(Alicia)“We have to face them.”Rocco nods, his expression hardening. “We do. But I think you have to hide that mark, for now.”We dress quickly, the unspoken tension between us an acknowledgment of the battle ahead. I make sure to wear a shirt that covers up the mark, not ready yet to share something as personal as this with the rest of the world.I feel the weight of Rocco’s gaze on me as I pull on my clothes, a mixture of pride and protectiveness that stirs something warm and fierce inside me. I’m not used to this. The feeling of being seen, truly seen, and still wanted. As we step out of his house, the pack grounds seem quieter than usual, the normal bustle of pack life subdued by the events of the night before.We’re late for breakfast. Most wolves have finished eating by the time we reach the dining hall. We walk in and the tension is palpable. Warriors and pack members are clustered in groups, their murmurs falling silent as Rocco and I make our entrance. The room feels charge

(Unknown person)I pace the length of my room, my feet sinking into the thick, imported carpets that mute the sound of my steps. The walls are covered in tapestries depicting the grand exploits of the Elven kingdom. Eevery victory, every conquest. They hang heavy with history, but no amount of grandiose decoration can silence the simmering disquiet that gnaws at the edges of my thoughts, the silent accusation that, perhaps, I’ve allowed something to slip beyond my control.Alicia. Even her name irritates me, a burr under the skin. She should have been a footnote in the history of this kingdom, easily discarded and forgotten. Yet, here we are, plagued by news of her continued existence. Her successes. Her survival against every attempt made to be rid of her.Two failed assassination attempts. It’s beyond embarrassing. It’s infuriating. And it’s not just the personal affront that rankles me; it’s the implications. She was supposed to die like all the other Elven brides sent to the fucki

(Unknown Person)My thoughts shift to crown prince Daniel. The fool believes he’s next in line, that one day he will rule. He’s more delusional than Alicia if he thinks the throne will ever be relinquished to him, or to anyone for that matter.The boy’s got no spine, no vision. He’s soft, poisoned by the comforts the palace and his status has provided, by the misguided belief that he deserves the crown by birthright alone. He’s no king. Not yet. Not ever if I have my way. He’s too eager to be loved, too weak to do what’s necessary. He’ll never understand the sacrifices, the ruthless decisions that define a true ruler. And until he does, he’s of no use to me.Archer might be the only one with a bit of spine. The spare. He’s always had a mean streak, bullying his twin and lying about it as if he thought no one would ever know. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s plotting up ways to get rid of Daniel. Whatever, he’s still got a weak-ass, useless blessing like the rest does.And then there’s

(Daniel)I wonder what Alicia’s thinking, how she’s coping with the dangers that have followed her to the werewolf kingdom. The failed assassination attempts have only served to heighten my curiosity, and though I know it’s foolish, a part of me is almost… proud. Proud that she’s survived, that she’s defied the odds once again.I wonder what it would be like, to rule as king, to step out of the shadow my father has cast over the entire realm. I have seen enough of the palace politics to know that my father’s reign is crumbling, no matter how desperately he tries to cling to his power. The people are restless, the coffers are dwindling, and the alliances my father once boasted of are fracturing under the weight of his greed. The Elven kingdom is a gilded cage, and I have grown tired of playing the obedient heir trapped inside.I pause before a tapestry depicting the old royal line, the line Alicia’s mother descended from. I feel a flicker of something sharp and bitter. Resentment perha