All Chapters of EX ALPHA’S REGRET: THE TYRANT KINGS’ PLUS SIZED JEWEL: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

DAPHNEThe full-length mirror in the corner of the bedchamber reflected everything in the harsh light of the wall torches.I stood completely naked in front of the tall glass. The room was warm now, the heating wards restored, but my skin felt hot for a different reason.I stared at my reflection. My eyes traced the full, heavy swell of my breasts, the soft curve of my stomach, and the wide sweep of my hips and thighs.A sudden, sharp memory from the southern keep hit me like a blow to the chest.I could still hear Tristan’s cold, smooth voice echoing in my mind from two years ago. We had been standing in his dressing room before the autumn banquet, and I had been trying on a dark blue silk dress that his personal tailor had altered for me. Tristan had walked up behind me, resting his hands lightly on my waist, looking at us in the mirror just like this."You have such a sharp mind, Daphne," Tristan had whispered near my ear, his tone deceptively gentle, almost romantic, as if he were

MALAKAIThe second the heavy iron latch clacked into place, I let go of the girl’s wrist like her skin was coated in lye."Get out," I said.The dark-haired female blinked up at me, holding the silver pitcher awkwardly against her chest. "My Lord? You said…""I paid you two silver coins to stand there and look pretty for two minutes," I growled, stepping toward her as my claws burst through the skin of my fingers. "The show is over. Take the coin off the dresser and get the hell out before I lose control of my wolf."She didn't wait to be told twice. She snatched the silver pieces, shoved her feet into her slippers, and scrambled out the door, slamming it behind her.The moment the lock clicked, the cold, unfeeling King I had been playing completely disintegrated.I kicked the iron fire irons straight across the room. They hit the stone wall with a deafening crash, scattering red-hot coals across the floor. The noise did nothing to quiet the violent, frantic thrashing inside my chest.

DAPHNEHundreds of wolves from both packs sat packed together at the long trestle tables, their voices clashing into a low, deafening roar beneath the high stone rafters.. I sat at a small, cramped bench along the outer wall, squeezed between two low-ranking northern trackers who didn't care who I was as long as I passed the bread.Malakai sat up at the high table, flanked by his pack elders. He hadn't looked toward my corner of the room once all night. His broad shoulders were rigid, his black tunic pulled tight over his chest, his golden eyes scanning the crowd like he was calculating threat vectors instead of attending a feast. There was no shared glances, no subtle silent communication between us. Ever since the night I walked into his bedchamber and found that girl touching his skin, the line between us had been drawn in iron. He stayed in his space, I stayed in mine, and we didn't touch the wreckage in between.Across the center aisle, Tristan sat at the middle table surrounded

DAPHNEI sat alone on a high wooden stool near the back wall, hunched over a heavy oak workbench. A single tallow candle flickered in an iron sconce above my head, casting long, erratic shadows across the stone floor. My fingers were stained dark with polishing wax, and cold gun oil sat caked beneath my fingernails.I held a silver hunting dagger in my left hand. With my right, I dragged a leather whetstone along the flat edge of the steel in long, deliberate strokes.The monotonous rasp of the stone against metal echoed off the low ceiling. It was the only sound keeping my mind focused after the disaster at the Midwinter feast. I didn't need to look up when the heavy oak door at the top of the stairwell creaked on its rusted hinges.I smelled him before his boots hit the stone floor. He smelled of fresh snow, damp wolf fur, and the sharp, sour tang of sweat.Soren descended the stairs, his broad frame hunched as if he carried an invisible weight on his shoulders. He carried a thick s

DAPHNEThe heavy iron carriage grinding to a halt on the frozen mud was the only warning I got before my world shifted back into public view.I looked down at myself, running a hand over the thick crimson velvet gown hugging my waist and wide hips.The low cut of the neckline exposed my throat and collarbone to the ice-cold air, a deliberate choice that felt like wearing target markers.I wore no pack jewels, no silver collars, and no mating marks.My skin, my body, and my posture were the only statements I came to make.Malakai sat opposite me, his massive frame blocking out the pale winter sunlight spilling through the carriage window.His golden wolf eyes dragged over the exposed curve of my chest, his nostrils flaring as he drank in my scent."You look like a lethal weapon, Daphne," Malakai growled, his low voice thick and gravelly in the small space."Good," I said, meeting his heated gaze without flinching."Because those southern bastards need to see exactly what they threw awa