All Chapters of CARRYING THE BEAST'S CHILD : Chapter 1 - Chapter 7

He started to speak.“What are you—”The rest of the question never left his mouth. My knees gave out, and I collapsed against his chest, my forehead pressing into the solid warmth of him. His arms caught me instinctively.“Are you in heat?” he asked, his voice low and careful.I shook my head lazily against him. “Heat… elixir,” I managed. The words felt thick on my tongue. “Mate with me.”The request slipped out before I could stop it. Even I was startled by the raw need in my own voice, but I didn’t take it back. I couldn’t die. Not yet. Not like this.He went still. “Do you know what you’re asking me to do?”I lifted my head and looked at him. Worry and something like concern were written clearly across his face. He didn’t look like the rough, filthy males of the pack. He looked… different. Almost like a gentleman. For a fleeting second, I wondered if I could trust him. If I let any of those other wolves near me, Naeja would brand me a slut before the sun rose, and the shame would

He covered my mouth with one hand and pressed a finger to his lips, signaling me to keep quiet. His eyes flicked toward the main corridor, listening. When no footsteps approached, he slowly withdrew his hand. Then he tugged the scarf lower. “What are you—” He turned my head to the side with careful but firm fingers, exposing the mark completely. His gaze sharpened as he examined it. “Where did you get this mark?” I forced myself to look at him. “It’s just a scratch, Your Highness.” His frown deepened. “A scratch? The mark on your neck has a clear diamond shape, and you’re telling me it’s a scratch?” His voice dropped. “You’re lying to me.” I shook my head quickly. “No. No, I assure you, Your Highness. It really is just a scratch.” He leaned even closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “That mark belongs to—” “Prince Kael!” Naeja’s voice rang out from the main corridor, bright and searching. “Damn it,” Kael muttered under his breath. He released me at once and stepped

The voice was cold and deep, cutting through the stunned silence of the ballroom like a blade. Every head turned toward the entrance. And there he stood: the stranger from the forest. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Long dark hair falling past his shoulders. Those same molten amber eyes that had burned into me beneath the trees now locked onto mine across the crowded hall. The black formal clothes he wore did nothing to soften the raw power emanating from him. He looked exactly as I remembered—and somehow far more dangerous. I blinked hard, certain I was hallucinating from the fall, from the slap. But I wasn't. What was he doing here? He started walking toward me. The crowd parted instinctively, as if some primal instinct warned them to step aside. His gaze never left me. When he reached the place where I still knelt on the cold marble, he stopped. One large hand extended toward me, palm open. Gently, almost carefully, he helped me to my feet. I stared up at him, wide-eyed, words failin