Her Cursed Alpha のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 41 - チャプター 50

Wendy’s POVOutside, brisk autumnal air fills my lungs. Redwoods tower over me, their canopies dissolving into the mist. There’s an otherworldly beauty to this place. If, at any moment, a dinosaur emerged from between the tree trunks, it would only seem fitting. My footsteps slow as I take in the almost alien majesty of it. “There are wards all around here,” comes Desmond’s voice from behind me. “Escape attempts won’t go undetected.”“I’m not trying to escape this place. I’m trying to escape the paranoid brute who misinterprets my every move.”I’m going to wind up in that detention cell after all. Maybe it will be a blessing in disguise. Except Desmond doesn’t look angry at me. He has the audacity to look amused as he approaches me. He reaches out to touch my braided hair hanging over my shoulder. “Is that any way to talk about your devoted husband-to-be?” “My devoted hostage-taker, you mean.”“I wear many hats around here.”“I have to assume you carry cuffs and gags along with

Wendy’s POVThis revelation is deeply unwelcome.I understand it now, why he was looking at me like he already knew me that first night. Why he went out of his way to play hero for me. Why everything else that came after happened the way it did. “I suppose,” I say, forcing my voice to be light, “this explains why you broke your vow of celibacy.”His eyes flare. “Does it?” “Of course. I’m her doppelgänger. I’m like the artificial sweetener that fooled your brain into thinking you were having real sugar.”There’s a moment, an endless, agonizing moment, where he just watches me. Like he’s waiting for me to be the one to do something, to say something.I don’t.Who knew a one night stand could ever get so complicated? All of this is too perplexing for my soft and stupid heart. At last, all he says is, “You didn’t taste artificial to me.”“Like you said,” I chirp with false levity, “I’m very convincing.”I don’t want to talk about him with another woman anymore. It makes something chur

Wendy’s POVMinutes later, Desmond parks the truck by the coast. He grabs two surfboards out of the truck bed. We walk to the beach as pale light filters across the horizon. The wind carries the scent of pine forest from the cliffs to the beach. Out in the water, Desmond's packmates, along with a few wives and even a couple of older kids, are already riding the swells, their laughter carrying above the pounding waves. For a few moments, I'm overwhelmed by greetings. There are still so many names I don't remember, and yet everyone seems to know mine as they welcome me with smiles. Some of the women venture to give me hugs, and the kids swarm me once again before running off with glee.The guys all do that back-slapping hug thing or give fist bumps to Desmond. It's surprisingly informal for a hierarchal society, but something about being by the ocean seems to strip away all formality. Surfboards in tow, Desmond leads me to the shallows, water foaming around our ankles. It’s freezing.

Wendy’s POVThrough the blur of churning water, a shadow moves toward me. Strong arms pierce through the current, wrapping tight around my ribs and hauling me against a hard chest.Desmond.Even underwater, I know the feel of him, the sheer power in the way he holds me, the unyielding force dragging me upward. His kick is relentless, each stroke cutting through the crushing dark until my lungs are about to burst.He cages me to him, his body shielding mine from the weight of the ocean, and then we’re surging toward the surface together. I try not to panic as a powerful wave churns us onto the shore. I come up for air gasping and sputtering, the board still strapped to my ankle.As I kneel on my hands and knees on shore, Desmond is already there, dropping down beside me. His hands skim over my arms, shoulders, waist, checking for injuries.There’s an urgency to him I’ve never seen before.“Shit, baby. Shit. What hurts? Did you hit your head?”“No.” I cough, salt burning my throat. “Ev

Wendy’s POVDesmond insists on staying in the water with me, catching, or trying to catch, in my case, set after set, until my muscles are aching and I'm exhausted. I crash out every time. I fail, over and over. Every time, Desmond tells me I did well. That I was brave. That each time was better than the last. Maybe it’s just another form of manipulation, but it’s working. I feel myself becoming braver as he says I am. More willing to fail, even though it’s embarrassing and frustrating, because I really do get a little better every time.When there’s a break between sets, I take it all in. The morning sun limns the water in pale gold. From my vantage point I have a view of the forest as it tumbles all the way to the cliff's edge. In the foreground, slicing through the mist, are a dozen wolf shifters and their families. Bound to the tides, bound to the moon, just like the water we’re floating in. Not barbarians. Not savages. They're men. Extraordinary men.Ones who love their wive