All Chapters of I Woke Up Engaged To An Alpha: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

SIGRUN The corridor was suffocatingly quiet, save for the violent thrumming of my own heart against my ribs. I stood in the dim torchlight outside Varul’s heavy oak doors, my hands clutching the silk of my robe so tightly my knuckles turned white. My skin felt overly sensitized, buzzing with a cocktail of raw excitement, terror, and a deep, pulsing horniness that had been building inside me for weeks. Am I really about to do this? The question echoed in my mind, but my body already knew the answer. So what if I’d asked Rita to spritz extra jasmine perfume on my delicate spots—behind my ears, the hollow of my throat, the insides of my wrists? I knew exactly what I was doing. Varul had told me before that he liked my scent, and the memory of how he had kissed me like a man starved merely a few hours ago made my feminine parts tingle with a sharp, wicked heat. “Tonight, Princess,” he had promised, his rough voice a physical weight against my lips. “Tonight I will make you min

SIGRUNI slowly stirred awake, deliciously aware of being comfortably snug in a warm, solid cocoon.My eyes were still shut, my mind caught in that hazy, heavy twilight between deep sleep and waking life. The world outside didn't exist yet. There was only the thick scent of cedar, winter air, and the underlying spice of a dominant male that I had spent the last month trying to convince myself I didn’t crave.Before I could even fully register the weight of the massive body pressed against my back, a wave of sensory overload hit me.My eyelids remained closed, but my breath instantly hitched. A slow, rhythmic friction was happening against my core. Long, calloused fingers were moving over my brèasts, thumbing the sensitive peaks of my nípples until they hardened into tight buds. At the exact same time, a hot, thick thumb swiped down between my legs, circling my sensitized clít with a deliberate, maddening pressure.I let out a soft, low moan, my hips reflexively arching backward into t

SIGRUN He chuckled and let go of my ankle and swung his legs out of bed, completely unbothered by his bare skin as he stood up. I immediately looked away, my face heating up all over again as I focused very intently on a knot in the ceiling stones. He let out another low chuckle, clearly enjoying my lingering modesty, and walked over to fetch a silk robe from the wardrobe. After tossing it on, he walked back to the bed carrying a silver plate piled high with roasted meats, fresh berries, and thick, dark bread slathered in honey. He sat on the edge of the mattress, offering a piece of the honeyed bread to my lips. “Eat.” I wanted to tell him I could feed myself, but the sweet, rich scent of the honey made my stomach violently rumble. I was actually truly famished. Defeated, I leaned forward and took a bite. It was heavenly. The contrast of the sweet honey against the rustic, dense bread was exactly what my exhausted body needed. Varul watched me chew, his thumb reaching o

VARUL The air inside the chamber was frozen, vibrating with a sharp, metallic static that made the hairs on my arms stand up. Beneath me, Sigrun was still trembling so violently her teeth clicked. Siren was pacing a chaotic, possessive circle around my subconscious, his fur bristling, his fangs bared. He was not rejecting her. He couldn't. The mate bond had snapped into place the exact second my teeth pierced her skin, binding our souls together with an iron permanence. Siren was completely intoxicated by her scent, by the fierce, terrifying depth of the power she had just unleashed. Mine, Siren growled, his voice deep, a low rumble of awe vibrating through my bones. She is ours. Regardless of anything, the Moon Goddess gave her to us. We protect her. I know, I answered him, my chest heaving against hers as I stared down at her pale face. My pulse was racing, a chaotic mix of raw possessiveness and blinding dread. I know she’s ours, Siren. But…magic. Somehow, she wields old magic.

PRINCESS SIGRUN OF WINDSMOOR[Five Years Ago...]"Take a deep breath, yer highness. Yer wound tighter than a fresh-strung bow, and it’s doing no favors for yer skin," Rita's warm, scratchy voice murmured behind me.She bent into my field of vision through the reflection of the vanity mirror, her weathered hands smelling faintly of lavender and the heavy lard soap used in the palace scullery.She was a round, comforting shape in a sea of rigid Southern aristocrats—a woman who had wiped my running nose when I was a toddler and held my head when the palace fevers took me at ten. She didn't possess a drop of noble blood, but she possessed the only maternal warmth I had ever known in the cold, hyper-political expanse of the Windsmoor court."I am perfectly fine, Rita," I lied, my voice tightening as I forced my chin upward, aiming for the imperial dignity my mother, Queen Astrid, expected."Aye, and I’m the high priestess of the sun," Rita countered softly, a rueful, maternal smile tugging