All Chapters of The Alpha’s Forbidden Coyote Mate: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

178 Chapters

Chapter Twenty

Another week without Phantom. Silence stretches, taut and merciless. My phone glows each time I glance at it, a reminder of what isn’t there. His last words—I’m done—still cut sharper than any blade. Days blur. Saturday dissolves into Sunday, then into a haze of mornings that all look the same. I rise before dawn, head to Phantom’s estate, and train with Kelsa. Vahlia called just after the fight, insisting I was still welcome to train on their property. Phantom’s mother, ever the saint, postponed my exit test, saving me from Canum’s wrath. Mercy wrapped in silk. Phantom doesn’t know. Or maybe he does, and doesn’t care. Kelsa drills me until my muscles scream. She doesn’t hide her disdain, but her methods are ruthless yet effective. I’ve gained speed, sharpened instinct, and mastered survival. Arrows whistle past me daily, loosed by her archers. She calls it keeping me sharp; I see it as torment. Tomato, tomata. Today, she sets the trial: four flags hidden in the forest. Grab the

Chapter Twenty-one

During and after every training session, I hunt for Phantom, desperate for even the briefest glimpse. Pathetic, I know. His absence convinces me he’s either out of town or simply excels at avoiding me. By Wednesday morning, the ache of missing him gnaws so deep I’m certain I’m going berserk. He haunts my dreams almost nightly, and in daylight every face I see blurs into his. I wonder if girls normally pine for boys who don’t want them, or if this cruel insanity is mine alone. Two weeks later, I lean against the ornate fountain outside the castle, gulping cool water after another brutal session with Kelsa. The marble glistens under the morning sun, droplets scattering like shards of glass. My muscles throb, sweat clings to my skin, and the taste of iron lingers on my tongue. The courtyard hums with distant voices, the shuffle of guards, the faint rustle of banners in the breeze. Then it hits me—sage and cedar, Phantom’s signature scent. My breath catches, lodged in my throat. His voi

Chapter Twenty-two

Vahlia and I finish breakfast and step outside, sunlight spilling across the drive. I freeze, breath hitching, when I see a black sports car parked at the curb—Phantom, shirtless, wiping it down. The gleam of polished metal mirrors the sheen of his skin, every movement deliberate, controlled, like he knows the effect he has. “You should stop drooling,” Vahlia chuckles, her tone teasing. “Let’s not make my brother’s head any bigger than it already is.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I shrug, too quickly. She arches a brow, disbelief written across her face. “You should work on sounding more believable.” Phantom straightens, eyes finding mine. A flicker of longing, confusion, something unguarded, crosses his features. “Are you ready?” His voice is low, steady, magnetic. “Maryelle is coming with us.” Vahlia’s tone leaves no room for dispute. “Vahlia, it’s a sports car—a two‑seater.” He grabs his shirt from the seat, slipping into the blue garment with practic

Chapter Twenty-two-and-a-half

Steam curled in the air, scented with lavender and eucalyptus. The hush of the spa was broken only by the trickle of water and the occasional clink of glass. Vahlia reclined against her chair, cucumber slices balanced on her eyes, her tone lazy but sharp. “This is what you needed,” she murmured. “A day without Phantom hovering, without Edison trying to get under his skin. Just us girls.” I smiled faintly, sinking deeper into the mineral bath. “I’m not complaining.” She peeled one slice away, gaze catching mine. “Besides, I promised you the story. Israfil’s ball.” The words shifted the air. My pulse quickened. “That’s right—you were there!” “Front row,” she said, lips curving. “And let me tell you—it wasn’t just a ball. It was spectacle. Four hundred guests, all rubbernecking like they’d never seen royalty before. Honestly, I wanted to shout: Has no one taught you it’s rude to stare?” Her laugh was low, conspiratorial. “The tables—three hundred fifty of them—draped in

Chapter Twenty-three

I’m not afraid. I’m not afraid of him. I repeat the words in my head, but they change nothing. Flashbacks of Canum’s threats, the memory of his lackeys forcing Edge down my throat, numb me into paralyzing fear. “You made it.” Phantom’s voice is low, edged with awe. His gaze locks on me, steady, unflinching. “Princess… calling you beautiful would undersell it. You look like a dream.” His eyes linger, intent, as though the room itself has fallen away. “That dress—perfect.” His fingers brush the refined red fabric draping over my shoulders, a touch deliberate, restrained. My pulse stutters. “Thank you. I figured since you insist on calling me princess, I should try to look like one for at least one night.” I wink. His mouth curves, slow and dangerous. “You always look like a princess. Tonight? You’re untouchable.” He exhales, thumb grazing over my fingers, the gesture subtle but charged. The friction sparks through me, impossible to ignore. I sigh despite myself, eyes tracing him.

Chapter Twenty-four

“Phantom, where are you taking me?” His mouth curves, slow and deliberate. “I love the way you say my name.” A sigh escapes him, content but restrained. “The destination’s a surprise.” The first part of his comment makes me blush. My heartbeat stumbles, erratic, and I force myself to reel it back in. “Is it far from here?” “Princess…” His smirk says enough. “I know… it’s a surprise.” I hate surprises. Okay, not hate. I just dislike being in the dark about plans that involve me. “Are we traveling within state lines?” He shakes his head, amused. “The word surprise doesn’t mean what you think it means.” His lips brush my forehead, a fleeting press that deepens my breath. “Remind me to explain it later. I’ve got flash cards.” A low chuckle rumbles from his chest when I shove him playfully. He wraps me in his arms, nestling into my neck, hands warming my chilled skin. “Cold?” I shake my head, but a shiver betrays me. He shrugs out of his tuxedo jacket, draping it over my

Chapter Twenty-five

I take off running, not bothering to check if Edison’s behind me. When you’re hunted, looking back is a distraction guaranteed to get you killed. My feet pound the ground with reckless speed, gravel scattering beneath each strike. The night air claws at my lungs, sharp and metallic, but I’m thankful for the swiftness with which my body moves. I try to remember the roads Edison took, replaying turns in my mind, never once slowing my steps. My pulse turns erratic when shadows blur past me—ten figures moving in ultra‑speed, their outlines slicing through the dark like blades. A scream slips past my throat, strangled before it can fully form. My heart ricochets against my rib cage, then skitters to a deafening halt. Hyperventilation becomes my new form of breathing, shallow and frantic. A massive hand clamps over my mouth. I bite down, desperate, but my teeth sink uselessly into hot, sticky flesh. His grip is iron, unyielding. I quake with fear, trapped in the vise of a man whose enor

Chapter Twenty-six

I lose consciousness twice while my body is hauled somewhere. Each time I resurface, the world is a blur of shadows and pain. By the time I regain it fully, I’m strapped to a hospital bed. One glance tells me this isn’t a legitimate healthcare facility. The space is dark, wet, and reeks of mold. The air is heavy, saturated with mildew. Small pools of water dot the ground, most mixed with red dirt. Stone walls crawl with decaying growth, their stench so foul it makes bile rise in my throat. “Glad you’re awake. Your awful snoring had me hoping they’d kill me already.” Edison’s voice drips with false humor. As angry as I want to be, shock hits harder when I realize he’s also strapped to a bed. “What is this? Why are we tied down in this filthy basement?” “You haven’t figured it out yet? We’re guinea pigs, doll—soon‑to‑be‑dead guinea pigs. And in case you were wondering why I’m down here with you, my father decided I wasn’t worthy of being his son—again. I apparently failed his test

Chapter Twenty-seven

Cinders float from the sky, drifting down in large, powdery pieces of hot ash. Smoke thickens the air, choking visibility, but I’m not human—and for once, I’m grateful for the sharpness of near‑immortal eyes. Through the haze, I spot Bethany, the witch Canum once ordered to shove Edge down my throat. She hurls a spell meant to obliterate one of Phantom’s guards, but it misfires, charring a tree into more ash that swirls around us like burning snow. My gaze locks on Canum. Rage coils in my chest, salivating at the thought of revenge. He moves with lightning speed, kicking Phantom square in the chest, his assault relentless against the man I love. Bloodlust surges. I charge, ramming Canum to the ground. He recovers instantly, flipping to his feet, claws sinking into my stomach. But instead of pain, his talons feel like fine hair brushing against my new flesh. My transformation shields me. Phantom howls, feral and livid. He tears into Canum, teeth sinking into the hand buried in my

Chapter Twenty-eight

Ash still clings to the air, smoke curling in ragged ribbons across the battlefield. Phantom lies in my arms, his blood soaking into my skin, his breath shallow. Edison drags Canum’s broken body away, copper blade glinting in his hand. The thunder of paws grows louder—Phantom’s guards rushing in, their silhouettes cutting through the haze like shadows carved from fire. “Stay with him,” Edison orders, his voice sharp, before disappearing into the smoke with his father. His words slice through the chaos, leaving me tethered to Phantom, bound by desperation. I cradle Phantom tighter, rocking him against me. His sapphire eyes flutter open, gray with pain. “Princess…” His voice is hoarse, barely audible. “You are so stubborn.” He slips back into unconsciousness, and my heart fractures, shards of grief piercing deeper than any dagger. His breath falters, and I count each fragile exhale as if it might be his last. The guards swarm us, forming a protective circle. Their growls reverberate

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