When I woke, it felt like a train had run over from the inside out. My body scread before my mind even caught up. Every nerve was raw.
My pussy and dick burned with a deep, throbbing ache—as if both had been torn and then stitched with a blunt needle. The pain was so sharp I almost sobbed, the kind of hurt that made my throat tighten and my eyes sting with unshed tears.
I tried to sit up, pushing on my elbows, but my muscles trembled and gave out; the motion shot fire through my hips, and I collapsed back with a choked gasp, eyes watering.
Last night, after the chilli prank, Elaine had snapped. The way she grabbed my hands, spread my legs, and pinned down—it had gone from anger to violation in seconds.
She’d rutted despite my protests, her alpha pheromones forcing into heat, my body responding even as my mind scread no. I hadn’t been able to fight properly.
My magic coiled at the edge of my awareness, but I’d been too shocked, too overwheld, too much an oga in that mont to shape it into a weapon. By the ti it was over, I’d blacked out from the pain and the exhaustion.
Now, morning light seeped through the curtains, soft and cruel, illuminating the ss of the bed—rumpled silk, the torn pieces of my gown still scattered on the floor, the faint stain of blood and arousal near my thigh.
I bit my lip, trying to keep my breath steady, and with a strength that ca from injured pride more than muscle, I pushed the heavy covers away and dragged myself upright.
My legs shook, the ache between them sharp and constant, making every step feel like walking on broken glass. I barely managed to stand before sinking back onto the edge of the bed, tears slipping down my cheeks despite my best efforts.
And then I saw her.
Elaine was kneeling on the floor near the foot of the bed, her back to , shoulders tense. Her usually perfect bun had loosened, a few strands of raven hair falling over her neck, the white nightshirt wrinkled and twisted around her waist.
The air around her carried the faint, sour tang of guilt mixed with the lingering musk of her rut—alpha pheromones, usually a weapon, now hanging awkwardly in the room like a stench she couldn’t wash off.
She didn’t turn around, didn’t speak; she just knelt there, hands clasped in her lap, the iron mask of indifference shattered and left scattered between us.
The soft light of morning fell across her shoulders, picking out the faint tremble in her fingers, the tension along her spine.
The air still carried the heavy musk of her rut, the scent of alpha dominance twisted now with sothing else—sothing raw and broken.
My body burned, but it wasn’t just the pain of last night that cut .
It was the ache in my chest, the way my throat tightened when I looked at her—not as my husband, not as so distant villainess, but as the person who’d forced their way into , turned my body into a battleground, and then crouched there like a penitent saint.
The mark on my neck pulsed hot under her pheromones, a constant reminder of the bond I’d agreed to that she’d twisted into sothing it wasn’t supposed to be.
"Did you... feel it, too?" I whispered, my voice hoarse, the question hanging heavy in the air between us. "What you did to ?"
For a mont, the only sound was the faint rustle of the bed sheets as I shifted, a hiss of pain escaping my lips. Then she finally spoke, her voice low, rough, the words scraping like gravel.
"I have committed a sin."
"A sin?" I repeated, the word tasting bitter on my tongue. "What you did was more than a sin, Elaine. It was a violation. You forced yourself on the crown princess of this empire."
"I know, Alexander."
"Oh, now you rember my position," I snapped, anger lacing the edge of my voice, the burn between my legs flaring with every word. "It’s convenient, isn’t it? One minute I’m a bratty, weak oga; the next, the most important princess in the empire."
"I am deeply sorry," she said, the words earnest, the guilt in her voice raw and unfiltered. "I... I lost control. My instincts flared, and I let them take over. I... I’m sorry, Alexander."
"Why did you do that?" I asked, my voice trembling despite the anger, the questions piling up like stones on my chest. "You used your Aapha dominance to force down, and then you were offended when I took revenge. It would have been better if you’d just hit . At least then I’d be bruised."
"I... I’m sorry," she said again, the words scraping like gravel, the guilt in her voice raw and unfiltered. "You can execute for my insolence. I deserve it."
"I have no interest, okay?" I said, the anger in my voice mixed with a cold, hard weariness. The fire that had driven to set the chilli trap, the defiance that had made stand up to her pheromones, had burned itself out, leaving behind a hollow ache. "Just stay away from . Go to that lover of yours, that Count Gerald’s son. Marol. Do whatever you want. Just... leave alone."
The words hung in the air, the silence in the room almost suffocating, the faint rustle of the bed sheets and the soft creak of the bedfra the only sounds breaking it.
Elaine’s shoulders twitched, her head bowed, the weight of my words pressing down on her, the guilt in her eyes almost visible despite her back to .
The air crackled with the tension, the faint hum of her Alpha dominance now twisted with the weight of her sha, the scent of her guilt hanging heavy like a storm waiting to break. The musk, usually sharp and commanding, felt dampened, almost sickly sweet, as if her body didn’t even know how to sll anymore.
"I am sorry," she said quietly, the words sounding torn from her throat rather than spoken. "I shouldn’t have done that." A beat. Her voice dropped lower, rougher. "Did it hurt?"
The question hit like a slap.
My body answered before my mind did—my breath hitched, muscles tightening between my legs, the ache flaring up fresh and hot. Tears welled again, sharp and stinging, but I blinked them back.
"You ca into my room," I said, voice low, trembling around the edges. "You pinned down. You rutted while I told you to stop. Do you really have to ask if it hurt?"
User Comments
0 comments from readers