Semua Bab I Woke Up Engaged To An Alpha: Bab 11 - Bab 20

We had a staring contest as he slowly stalked towards me. I was reminded of those predators in the wild that I’d seen several times on the National Geographic channel. Still holding his gaze, I rose from the chair at the dresser, needing to put some distance between us. I was more afraid of the reactions going on in my body at that moment. His footfalls created steady thuds on the polished wooden floor as he advanced towards me. “Um, hi,” my voice came out as a squeak as I retreated slowly. “We uh, I don’t think…We—we haven’t been introduced properly, which is wild since we um, just got married,” I rambled, trying for a casual smile, but it came out wobbly. He said nothing, just kept advancing. His expression was inscrutable. But his eyes sparkled with what I could only suspect was challenge. His aura was dark and oozed pure male power. I was suddenly, acutely aware of approximately everything at once. The lightness of my chemise. The looseness of my hair. The co

I eyed the horse warily. Under different circumstances — say, circumstances where I wasn't expected to actually get on her — I would have found her magnificent. "I'm fine," I told the stable hand, with as much breezy confidence as I could muster. I was well aware that I was being watched by prodding eyes. "Thank you." "Aye, Yer Highness," the stable boy said and stepped back. I approached the mare carefully. I'd read somewhere that horses could sense anxiety. I wondered if she could tell that I was anxious as hell. "Hi," I said quietly when I reached her. "I'm Sigrùn. We're apparently going to be spending a lot of time together, so I'd really appreciate it if you could just work with me here." She blinked one large dark eye at me. Okay. Let’s do this. I put my foot in the stirrup. Got approximately halfway up. Discovered, at that precise altitude, that the other half of the way up was significantly more complicated than the first half, and that the coordination re

"It's-it's cold. I don't want to get in the water," I protested—halfheartedly, I must confess. All my insides were currently screaming Yes! in falsetto. Because when a man who looks like that and sounds like that tells you to get over here, you get over there, no questions asked. Still, it didn't mean I had to make it easy for him. "This is not a negotiation, Princess. Get over here, or I'll come get you. One of these two options will end with a spank on your ass, but I am going to feel your heat on my tongue either way." He leaned back and smiled. "Your choice, Princess." My cheeks warmed at his words. Wait. He's bluffing. He wouldn't—right? "I'm not bluffing, Princess," he deadpanned, reading my thoughts. Right. The forest seemed to hold its breath as I made my decision. Varul watched me steadily, holding my gaze. Of course, I was the first to look away. "Fine," I muttered and walked the short distance to the water, still clutching my blanket. I was well aware that under

VARUL  I hardly waited to watch her enter her tent before I turned and walked straight back into the forest. Not because I had somewhere to be. Not because there was a patrol to oversee. Because if I stood outside that tent for another minute, I was going to do something monumentally stupid. Like stalking into her tent and claiming her the way Siren was yelling at me to. Hard. Her dainty wrists pinned above her head with one of my calloused hands. Those gorgeous tits bouncing with each thrust while I— "Fuck!" I muttered into the black sky. The forest swallowed me whole. Moonlight filtered through ancient pines, silvering the ground beneath my boots. I welcomed the cold. It did absolutely fuck all to help the tent growing in my pants. Not that the cold had ever had any effect on me anyway. "Pathetic." The voice echoed through my head. I clenched my jaw. Speaking of the bastard. Siren. My wolf. My curse. My constant companion. My greatest he

SIGRUN We'd been riding since midmorning, and by late afternoon I was beginning to suspect that horse-riding had been invented by people who secretly hated the human body. In the past, whenever I'd imagined riding through a fantasy kingdom, I had pictured something cinematic. Wind in my hair. Dramatic scenery. Perhaps an inspiring soundtrack. What I had not pictured was the fact that every single muscle below my waist would eventually declare war on me. My thighs hurt. My back hurt. My shoulders hurt. There were muscles hurting in places I hadn't known muscles existed. The fuck? The mare beneath me seemed perfectly content with the arrangement. I, meanwhile, was discovering that six straight hours in a saddle was a deeply offensive concept. I refused to complain, partly because I was stubborn. And mostly because I was surrounded by werewolves. Between yesterday's journey and today, I observed that the pack rode in a certain formation: Varul was always at