All Chapters of The Alpha King’s human breeder : Chapter 181 - Chapter 190

Five's POVThe night ended and to my greatest shame and relief, Lucien hadn't selected any of the eligible women.I hid a satisfied smile as I put the last of the tray away in the kitchen.The wetness was still evident between my legs.I was almost certain the wolves around me could smell it.I kept my expression neutral, my pace unhurried and my face pointing away from anyone who might read what was on it.‘Later,’ he had said.The word had been sitting in my chest since the corridor like an ember that hadn't decided yet whether to go out or catch.The kitchen was emptying — the festival winding down, the staff dispersing, the citadel settling back into itself after the evening's brightness. I waited until the last kitchen girl disappeared through the far door and then I set down my cloth and walked out.The corridor toward the King's wing was quieter than usual.Most of the guests were still in the main hall or dispersing to their assigned quarters. The guards were managing the flo

Lucien’s POVShe was moving toward me.With that confidence.That smile.‘Find her,’ Ash snarled again, louder.I set down my glass."Excuse me," I said to the lord.And moved.Not toward Lord Harlan's daughter. I moved away from her.Her scent was too strong, too repulsive. I only craved one.Ash was pulling — not the rut's blind urgency but something more deliberate, something that knew exactly what it wanted and was done being patient about it.The bond.It wasn’t amplified by the compound. It was clarified by it. Every managed layer stripped away, every careful distance I had maintained.Gone.What was left was simple.I needed to find her.The festival was still ongoing, leaving midway still had its repercussion. But staying here longer in this state had more repercussions. Especially when the one person I was craving was a human slave the goddess had mated to me, and had warned about in the prophecy. I stepped out of the hall. I found Theron at the hall's east entrance. H

Five's POVI woke up sore in places I hadn't known could be sore.It arrived in pieces, the way waking up did lately. First the ache in my thighs, then the low tenderness in my hips, then the faint sting along my neck where something had pressed and not quite broken skin.Then the weight.A heavy, warm arm was wrapped around my waist, a hand splayed flat against my stomach, holding me against a chest that rose and fell in the slow rhythm of deep sleep.I went very still.He was still here.I lay there with my eyes closed and let that settle. Multiple times I had woken up to an empty bed and my body had apparently learned to expect the absence, because the presence of him caught me completely off guard.He hadn't left.He hadn't slipped out before dawn to be the King somewhere else. He was asleep behind me with his face tucked near my shoulder and his hand on me like he had decided at some point in the night that I was something to hold onto.A ridiculous smile spread across my face.

Seven's POVI knew it was him before I turned around.Cedar and ink.I had stopped pretending it didn't mean anything somewhere around the time I noticed I was listening for his footsteps.I hated that I knew the difference between his approach and everyone else’s. Hated that I could pick him out of a crowded corridor without looking, that some foolish part of me still paid attention whenever he was near.I hated it most because he had never asked me to remember him.I had simply never learned how to stop."Seven."My name in his voice. It always did something to me, always made a part of my body stir in a way that infuriated me beyond words. I kept sweeping, refusing to look up at him. "Beta," I greeted, my voice cold."I need a favor."Of course. "I'm sure you do."A pause."You haven't looked at me," he observed."I'm sweeping," I pointed out. "It requires looking at the floor."I heard the breath he let out. Nearly a laugh. Nearly.I set the broom against the wall and turned.H

Seven's POVThe girl who stitched the uniform did not want to be found.That was the first thing I understood, and it narrowed everything. Someone who hides well leaves a specific kind of absence, and I had been reading absences my whole life.I started with the laundry.The lower level laundry ran on three shifts, forty women, and a supervisor named Marta who had been in the citadel longer than the paint on its walls. I took a basket of linens down at the shift change, which let me stand in the steam and listen without anyone asking why."Someone's been using the good thread," a woman muttered to her neighbor. "Silver-grey. It wasn't issued. Marta nearly had a fit.""Who?""Ask the little one from the east sewing room. Always has her head down. Always has her hands busy."I set down the basket."The east sewing room," I said casually to the nearest girl. "Is it still in use?""Barely. Only one girl works it now." She shrugged. "Elvis's people had a few of the seamstresses transferred