Todos los capítulos de The Seven Heats: Capítulo 31 - Capítulo 40

My fingers trembled, my heart hammering like a trapped bird against my ribs.My eyes remained fixated on the raw, torn flesh of his back. I didn't stop. Step by agonizing step, I encroached into a lion’s lair, the dark scent of his blood and male heat flooding my senses, making my mouth go dry.The medicinal paste was cool on my fingertips. Just one touch,I bargained with myself. Once I apply it, the inflammation will soothe. The herbs will draw out the fire—it will help him.My hand was inches away from his hot, blood-slicked skin when he whipped around.In a terrifying blur, his large, calloused hand clamped around my wrist like a iron vise. I looked up, and the breath died in my chest.The beast was awake. Dark, feral, and suffocating.“Why are you here?” he growled, his voice a low vibration that rattled straight down my spine.My lips opened and closed in a silent, desperate plea. I gulped, my eyes darting to the green paste melting on my fingers. His gaze followed mine, his p

I want more. Of what, I don’t even know. I just want more.I don’t want this fire in my abdomen to stop. I want to burn in it. I want to know how it feels to completely consume me, to experience it just once in my life. And if he, the one the Moon Goddess chose for me, is the one lighting the spark, then let it be. This is fate.He is my fate. The man I waited for, holding onto the foolish hope that he might actually want me.Then, the realization hits like ice water.He doesn’t want me. He’s doing this to punish me. But why? Shouldn’t my body still disgust him?The last time I checked, he wouldn’t touch me without leather gloves. Yet now, his bare skin presses against mine. Why? Why is he… is he really ready to give me a chance? To the real me? The thought evaporates before it can take root. A sudden, violent wave of warmth surges between my thighs. I feel the brush of his lips against the thin lace at my hip…,so close. I try to pull my legs together, only to feel the sl

‘240.’The machine flashes the number in cold, unforgiving red.For a moment, I simply stare at it.Then I step back.Thankfully, no one is here.My fingers curl around the hem of my shirt as I look at the number again.Two hundred and forty pounds.Twenty pounds.I have gained twenty pounds in the last two weeks.Twenty.Since the day he found out I am his mate, my body has felt like it no longer belongs to me. Every day has been a battle against a stomach that twists itself into knots, a heart that refuses to slow down, and a mind that never seems to stop screaming.Stress has changed everything.Especially my body.I look away from the machine and toward the food tray lying untouched on the counter.I don't have the appetite for it.I don't have the strength either.So I simply transfer everything into a bag and walk out.The moment I step out, a familiar blur of dark fur comes charging toward me.Tyke.Before I can even brace myself, he throws his entire weight against me.I stumb

Tears blur my vision, but nothing can blur the slaughter below.My head shakes in continuous, frantic denial. My knuckles turn ghost-white as my fingers dig into the cold metal of the balustrade.“Please…” I sob, the word scraping out of my throat like shattered glass. “Please stop…”Below in the dusty arena, Vienna’s screams are raw, wet, and guttural as she is yanked across the stone floor. Her hands claw uselessly at her neck, her skin torn to ribbons, red mud caking her thrashing limbs. The animals charge faster, determined to complete their grim task, turning the arena into a meat grinder.Dominicus pays no heed.Beside me, I feel a slow, deliberate movement. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him raise his silver teacup, taking a nonchalant, quiet sip while remaining positioned inches behind me, completely unbothered.My fists clench. He isn't human. He is a demon wearing skin.The sickening sound of bones snapping against stone echoes upward. I squeeze my eyes shut, burying my

My eyes drop instantly, panic seizing my throat as I scramble to yank my foot back. But an iron grip clamps around my ankle, completely locking me in place. I gasp, my gaze flying up to meet his. He has no intention of letting me go. His grey eyes burn into mine, pitch-black and unreadable, before he slowly reaches into the wooden box with his free hand. At an agonizing, deliberate pace, he pulls out a pair of plush, high-grade socks and begins sliding one up my foot. His thick fingers brush my ankle, tracing the curve of my calf, his thumb pressing lightly into the arch of my sole. I gulp, a shiver shooting straight up my spine to my core. The touch is so shockingly soft, like a feather gliding over inflamed skin that it makes my breath catch. He slips a pair of brand-new, expensive leather training shoes onto my feet, tying the laces with effortless precision before nodding once to himself. Then he rises to his full, towering height. His arms fold tightly across his broad c