Sold To The Monster Alpha
The Blood Moon hangover.
I realized, with a sudden spike of quiet clarity, that he wasn’t sitting up out of pure malice. He was fighting. The residual madness of the lunar cycle was clearly trying to tear through his mind, a raging, chaotic storm that wanted to force him into a feral frenzy. Yet, every time his golden eyes flickered toward the bed, every time his nostrils flared to take in my scent, the tension in his frame would slightly ease. My presence really was the anchor holding his beast at bay. It was a bizarre, unsettling thought—that a powerful, ruthless tyrant who ruled an entire global territory was currently dependent on a disposable, hidden maid just to keep his sanity intact.