All Chapters of The Alpha's Plump Mistake: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Lawrence's POVThe freezing morning wind cut across Blood Moon’s courtyard, but the snow beneath my military boots turned to steam almost at once. The power of the over‑mark Maya had given me through our night in the furs burned in my chest like a river of molten bronze. I could feel my inner wolf clawing at my ribs, impatient to sink its fangs into the intruder who had dared look upon my Queen’s curves.In the center of the fighting circle, ringed by my three beta divisions and the fifty highland savages, Draven stripped off his black‑iron harness. His massive torso, crisscrossed with rough border scars, bristled in the biting air.“Last chance to hand over the outcast, Lawrence,” Draven taunted, his voice already thickening as his jaw shifted partway into transformation, yellow fangs lengthening to drip hot saliva onto the snow. “Give her to me, and I’ll let you live to clean my stables.”“The only way you’ll touch my woman is if I serve her to you on your dying breath, cur,” I snap

Lawrence's POVThe stench of old magic and frozen fur seeped through the great throne room’s cracks before the iron doors had even finished opening. It was not the scent of the highland wild wolves, nor the stale perfume of the capital’s bureaucratic officials. It was the thick, freezing, rank aroma of the Deep North: a mystical presence that reeked of frozen pines, stale blood, and flesh devoured in the dark.The court was packed. The twelve Alphas of the vassal provinces, who had just knelt in the courtyard, stood in the front rank, flanked by my beta divisions. Beside me, seated upon the carved oak throne, Maya looked every inch an empress. The dark silks that draped her full curves contrasted sharply with the flawless glow of the gold‑and‑silver crown blazing against her cinnamon neck.When the heavy doors swung fully open, a warrior of staggering height crossed the threshold.He stood easily eight feet tall. He wore the pelts of giant black wolves that still dripped with frost, a

Lawrence’s POVThe northern sun fought its way through tattered veils of mystical mist that Maya’s light had scattered from the tower. But below, in the vast stretch of the Valley of Bones pass, the air was not cold—it burned with the stench of iron, sulfur, and the presence of thousands of giant wolves. Blood Moon’s thirteen vassal packs, with the twelve Southern Alphas and the highland savages at the vanguard, formed an unbroken wall of dark steel, spears, and shields along the border.I walked to the front of the line with my dark‑steel sword drawn. At my right, Maya advanced with slow, imperial, unshakable steps. Her dark silk gown clung to the fullness of her robust curves, and the gold‑and‑silver crown on her neck blazed with divine fire that held the morale of our ten thousand warriors at its peak.Three hundred yards up the stony slope, the Deep North pack stretched out before us. Two hundred giant wolves with coal‑black fur, standing over ten feet tall at the shoulder, rumble

Lawrence’s POVThe scent rising from Maya’s skin had changed completely over the last three days. It no longer carried only the wild border blooms and the clean static of our over‑mark; now her cinnamon skin exuded a thick, heady, warm perfume of sweet milk, mystical honey, and den‑heat. It was the unmistakable trace of the first royal pup growing within her.That scent was driving my inner wolf mad.My beast clawed at my ribs with fierce, rough, primal territorial need. The nesting instinct—the absolute urgency of a Supreme Alpha to build the safest refuge on the continent and seal his pregnant mate away from every threat—had taken hold of every fiber of my muscle. I could not bear to be more than six feet from her without my fangs pricking my gums, burning with the unyielding urge to bite her neck and mark her again before the whole empire.I followed her down the stone halls of the royal chambers like a shadow of dark steel. Maya wore a loose burgundy silk tunic that fell over the

Maya’s POVThe roar of the Unification Banquet began to fade as the heavy oak doors of our imperial chambers shut behind us, muffling the sound of bagpipes and the toasts of all thirteen packs. The silence of the northern night wrapped back around the palace—but inside our room, the air burned with an almost suffocating warmth.Before I could take a single step toward the window overlooking the snow‑capped peaks, Lawrence’s massive arms wrapped around me from behind in a rough, possessive grip. His broad, bare chest—still marked with the scars of victory—pressed against my back. He tilted his head, burying his face in the curve of my neck to breathe deep of my cinnamon skin, mixed with the scent of our over‑mark and summer bloom.“At last…” he rumbled, his voice rasping right against my ear and sending a shiver through me. “Thirteen provinces swearing fealty, ten thousand warriors kneeling… and all I could think about all night was having you alone in this bed.”A soft laugh rose in m