Semua Bab Claimed By My Mate's Uncle: Bab 41 - Bab 50

The heavy oak doors of the grand dining hall creaked open as Rosalie stepped inside, her heart still hammering against her ribs from her encounter with the court maidens. Shane and Griat remained flanking her sides, their silent, imposing presence the only thing keeping the whispering crowds of servants and low-ranking lords at a distance.The dining hall was magnificent, illuminated by hundreds of floating candles and lined with long tables overflowing with roasted meats, winter fruits, and golden wine. Yet, to Rosalie, it felt like entering a cage of predators. As she walked toward the elevated royal table, the ambient chatter in the room instantly died down, replaced by sharp, evaluating stares.Before she could even reach her cushioned seat, a tall, grey-haired man stepped out from the high table, deliberately blocking her path. It was Elder Vance, the powerful father of Lady Evelyn. His face was a mask of cold arrogance, his sharp amber eyes narrowing as he looked down at her smal

The next morning, the bedroom was bathed in a soft, muted winter light. Rosalie woke up slowly, a strange, profound warmth humming deep within her body. The moment she shifted against the silk sheets, a sharp, throbbing heat radiated from the side of her neck. Her fingers rose tentatively, grazing the fresh, slightly raised silver wolf-crest mark permanently embedded into her flesh. The bond felt incredible, an invisible, heavy anchor that filled her veins with a deep sense of calm, connecting her soul directly to the man beside her.Dominic was already awake. He was propped up on one elbow, his bare, heavily scarred chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm as he quietly watched her sleep. His amber eyes, usually so wild and volatile, were soft as they tracked the movement of her hand against her new mark.Rosalie looked at him, her heart fluttering. Even though the euphoric bond made her feel incredibly safe in his arms, she knew the real world was waiting outside those mahogany door

The lingering heat of the medicinal salve Dominic had rubbed into Rosalie's bruised jaw the night before left a faint, minty tingle against her skin. When she woke, her body felt stiff and battered from her first true day in the sparring rings, but a quiet sense of pride hummed in her veins. She had landed a hit. She was no longer just a fragile object to be moved across the court's chessboard; she was learning to plant her feet.However, the peace of her private chambers vanished the moment she stepped back out onto the dirt-packed training grounds that afternoon.The atmosphere was thicker today, heavy with the scent of ozone and incoming winter snow. Dominic was absent, buried deep in the war room with Killian to untangle the messy fallout of the border treaty. Without the Alpha King’s suffocating, dark presence anchoring the field, the warriors moved with a more flexible, more aggressive edge.Rosalie walked toward the weapons rack, her form-fitting tactical leather creaking softl

For a single, breathless second, the winter garden became a tomb of absolute silence. The frosted roses seemed to shatter under the weight of Prince Cassian’s words, the echo of his sudden, frantic claim vibrating through the freezing air like a faulty bell. “I’m your mate.”Rosalie stood entirely frozen, her jade eyes wide as she stared at the golden prince standing before her. A bizarre, hollow sensation bloomed in her chest. If he had spoken those words months ago, back in the glittering, superficial halls of her home pack, she might have wept with joy. She might have thrown herself into his arms, believing that the universe had finally granted her a fairy tale.But now? Looking at the manic, desperate light in his golden eyes, she felt absolutely nothing but a deep, burning surge of pure disgust."You..." Rosalie’s voice came out as a quiet whisper, but it carried the weight of a heavy stone. Her shock quickly calcified into an icy, unyielding anger. "You are delusional, Prince Ca

The silence of the royal bedchambers was a heavy, suffocating thing.Rosalie sat on the plush velvet chaise lounge by the tall arched windows, her eyes fixed blindly on the frosted glass pane. Outside, the gray winter afternoon was slowly bleeding into dusk, casting long, stark shadows across the floorboards. She had changed out of her heavy velvet clothes to a dove-gray gown, but she couldn't strip away the exhaustion that had settled deep into her bones.Her right hand, still wrapped neatly in clean white linen bandages, rested idly in her lap; the pack doctor had just changed her gauze after treating her wounds. Her hand throbbed with a faint, dull ache, a lingering reminder of the wolfsbane oil, but that physical discomfort was nothing compared to the chaotic storm raging inside her head.She was overthinking. She knew she was, but she couldn't stop the wheel from turning.Her mind drifted first to the training grounds. She could still hear the echoing ring of Griat’s broadsword,