The Alpha's Private Library のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 31 - チャプター 40

Isabella’s POVDays had passed since Lucan walked out of our chamber without looking back. A new healer — an older, stern woman from the pack — tended his wounds now. I told myself it was better this way. The distance would protect us both from the madness we had nearly become. I lied to myself every single hour.The war with EdgePoint pressed heavier on the pack with every passing day. Scouts reported silver weapons advancing toward our borders. Tension had thickened the air until breathing felt like an effort. And yet tonight the Fertility Ritual could not be cancelled. It was smaller than usual, stripped back because of the threat, but still mandatory. Only established couples. No outsiders. No excuses. The pack needed its blessing even in wartime, and appearances had to be maintained. I dressed with care and dread in equal measure, slipping into a deep crimson gown that hugged my body a little too well. Its neckline dipped low enough to draw attention, and by the time Lucan arr

Isabella’s POVThe battlefield was a blur of blood and noise.Steel rang through the night as wolves howled and men cried out in pain, but I had stopped trying to separate one sound from another. My world had narrowed to the wounded laid out before me. My hands were stained with blood, wolf blood, enemy blood, and my own where a blade had grazed my palm. The healer's tent was thick with the smell of herbs, iron, and fear."More yarrow! Press harder on that shoulder. That's it!"The healers no longer hesitated when I gave an order. Whatever doubts they had carried into the night had been buried beneath the growing line of wolves who were still alive because we had acted quickly.Three silver arrows. Two poisoned wounds. A shattered femur. I barely had time to breathe before another patient was carried into the tent. My father's knowledge guided every movement, every decision, every command that left my lips.Wolves who should have been dead were opening their eyes again.The realizatio

Isabella’s POVHis two thick fingers thrust deeper, curling mercilessly against that devastating spot inside my soaked cunt with every stroke. The wet, obscene sounds of my slick were hidden only by the noise of the feast, but I could hear them. Gods, I could feel them. My walls clenched greedily around his invading fingers, fluttering and pulsing as fresh gushes of slick coated his hand and dripped down my trembling thighs.His thumb never stopped its relentless circles over my swollen, aching bud—slow at first, then faster, firmer, pressing down with perfect, devastating pressure. Every precise stroke sent white-hot lightning racing up my spine. My hips jerked involuntarily against his hand, chasing more, always more.A broken moan slipped from my lips before I could catch it.I quickly turned it into a weak cough, lowering my head as heat flooded my cheeks. “Forgive me,” I whispered hoarsely to no one in particular. “I… I am not feeling too well.”Lucan’s fingers never faltered. I

Lucy’s POVA low, helpless laugh escaped my lips. “You poor, stupid, beautiful man,” I whispered into the empty room. “Do you have any idea what kind of deranged neighbor you just moved in next to? If you knew what was watching you right now…” The belt slid free with a soft whip of leather. He popped the button of his jeans. The zipper rasped down slowly. My pulse thundered in my ears. He pushed the denim down powerful thighs, kicking the jeans away. Black boxer briefs clung to him like a second skin, doing nothing to hide the thick, heavy outline of his cock. It was already half-hard, straining boldly against the fabric. My mouth went dry. My fangs throbbed. I pressed my thighs together, a rush of slick heat flooding between them. He stood there a moment, rolling his shoulders, completely at ease in his near-nakedness. Then his hands moved to the waistband of those briefs. My breath hitched. He hooked his thumbs in and pushed them down. His cock sprang free, thick and

Lucy’s POVI couldn’t stop thinking about his cock. All day, the image had haunted me. Thick, heavy, veined, flushed dark with need. The way it had throbbed in his fist. The way precum had glistened at the tip like an offering. Even while I fed from the cold blood bag, my mind kept drifting back to the sight of him stroking himself so shamelessly in front of the window. He had tormented me. Now it was my turn. Two nights left. Just two more nights until my sentence ended and I could return to my own world. I couldn’t afford to slip. Not now. I knew what would happen if I crossed the distance between our houses. I would ride that beautiful cock until he was begging, bury my fangs in his neck, and drink him dry while he emptied himself inside me. I couldn’t risk it. Not when freedom was this close. But I could play. I could torment him the way he had tormented me. The decision sent a dark thrill racing through my veins. I moved to the tall window opposite his, leaving ever