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94. The Prince's Desperation
Last Updated:
2024-11-12 20:13:43
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[MAGNUS]Zander’s fear is obvious as I step closer. Even here, in Morgana’s lair with its strange, flickering candlelight despite the absence of wind, his wide eyes and stiff shoulders give him away. He knows I’m not a friend. We’ve never pretended otherwise. Betrayal, rivalry, disdain — we’ve shared all these openly, and now, as he sits on the bench looking healthier than he has in days, I can see the question in his eyes. Why would I save him? Why a friendly smile?I don’t think he even considers that him being brought here has anything to do with Elara. To him, she is nothing. Just someone he can discard and torment to his pleasure. Someone he can threaten to poison another just so her father could be safe. “Alpha Zander,” I call out again, forcing my voice to sound calm, friendly. “Or should I call you former Alpha?”His shoulders twitch, a reflex he can’t hide. Good. I need him on edge, need him angry and distracted. That’s when people are easiest to control.He doesn’t reply, hi
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[ELARA]When I blink my eyes open, a cold, sharp pain greets me like an unwelcome guest that has overstayed its visit. It’s the kind of ache that feels as though it’s always been there, settling deep in the marrow of my bones. A phantom sensation of suffering, both distant and immediate.This is rebirth, is the first coherent thought in my fractured mind. I was dead. But now, I’m not.The second thought strikes harder, cutting through the haze: Magnus is my mate.I try to rise, but the room spins violently, and a hiss escapes my lips. The pain is cold and numbing, seeping under my skin like ice. It’s there but not there, agonizing yet strangely soothing. My body feels foreign, as if I’m inhabiting a vessel I don’t entirely recognize.A soft hand presses down on my forehead, gentle but firm. “Oh, you’re awake.”The voice is familiar, and yet it feels like hearing it from underwater. Daphne?Caelondor. I’m in Caelondor.Confusion rolls in waves, mixing with the relentless dizziness. How
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[RUELLE]The harbour looks different tonight. It feels different. The air smells unfamiliar, filling me with more terror than I already feel deep in my bones, making me shiver from more than just the cold. The ships bob in the dark water, their tall masts slicing into the moonlit sky. Lanterns flicker along the docks, casting faint light on the rippling waves. The sharp tang of salt, mingled with the stench of fish, damp wood, and the sweat of sailors hauling crates and barrels.I’ve been here countless times during my life, but all those other times, my heart raced for a completely different reason — out of excitement for the new place I’d explore when the ship anchored on the other side. Tonight, there’s only room for fear. I have to survive.‘No time to waste,’ my wolf, Kara, mutters. ‘Let’s go.’Tugging the hood of my cloak tighter around my face, I let out a shaky breath. I stole the cloak from a caravan halted along the forest road on my way here. It wasn’t taken from someone
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[RUELLE]A flicker of recognition strikes those eyes, and then just as quickly it is replaced by cold indifference. He continues walking across the deck, his steps now less certain than before, his stance almost cautious. I’m not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. His reaction tells me he wasn’t sent by Eldric or he would’ve already dragged me off the ship, right? But then I don’t recall seeing him at the palace after that. My brain is muddling slowly due to the hunger in my growling stomach. I can’t remember much. A huff of air from my lungs forms a misty cloud in front of my face. The morning will be cold, colder when we’re deeper into the sea, but at least the frosty night has passed us. The stolen cloak has kept me alive, but it has done nothing to ease the pain of hunger, which amplifies with every passing second. I close my eyes only to see the man once again in my mind, reminding me of the undoubtable recognition, the slight parting of his lips in shock. Was it my
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[RUELLE]My lips release a gasp, my cheeks burning as if set on fire. Share a hammock with a stranger? A man? He lets out a laugh then only to cut himself short. His face turns serious. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” he pauses, looking away. “I was only jesting.”If we were back in the palace, I’d have laughed and joined in the fun. But no—any sense of joy has abandoned me. I’m in survival mode. He may have promised to protect me, but what reason does he have to keep his word? His intentions could sway any minute, even though he may be truly genuine right now. I have never been gullible, but I certainly do have my feet firmly planted on this dusty floor, within his chamber. I’m a fool, I think. Before I know it, I’m brushing past his shoulder, running to the wide wooden plank that serves as a door. But his hand is quicker, gripping my wrist like a vice. I turn to glance at his face, my jaw clenching, partly in fear and partly in anger for stopping me. “Let me go.”He loosens his g
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Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 119. The Vampire's Offer
[ELARA]I stare at the ceiling, breathing a little too loud. I’m aware of the sweat covering my naked body, of the puncture wounds on my neck that are still blazing, eliciting waves of pleasure although Valen is no longer feeding on me. The desire to curl up and close my eyes and shut myself from the world feels too overwhelming. What have I done?A slow breath drifts against my shoulder.I go still.He’s awake.Heat creeps up my neck, shame curling in my stomach. I don’t dare look at him. If I do, I’ll see it—the smug amusement in his expression, the satisfaction, the knowing.I close my eyes, as if I can will myself back into ignorance. As if I can pretend I didn’t just let Valen—the last person I should have touched—consume me whole.“You're thinking too much,” his voice breaks the silence. It’s unbothered. I flinch.He chuckles. “I can hear it, you know. That frantic little heartbeat of yours.”My fingers curl into the sheets, my breath catching. “Go away,” I murmur.Valen shif
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 118. Blood and Desire
[ELARA]Something tells me Valen knows I’m here, and that I’m watching him, but doesn’t stop. “What do you think you are doing?” I hiss at him when I finally find my voice again, daring myself to walk closer. He glances at me leisurely, licking his bloodied lips as he lifts his head from her neck. “I was hungry,” he says with a shrug, and casts Tara aside like a doll. She leans against the wall, the euphoric smile on her face still lingering. “You look… displeased.”I hesitate. I did not think I would Tara here. I really believed she was with Magnus. “She’s our guest,” I whisper, my fingers twitching to reach her, to check if she’s okay—but I don’t. Somehow, I can’t bring myself to touch her. Not when she looks like she’s floating in some distant bliss. “You can’t harm her.”Valen cocks his head slightly, amused. “Harm?” He gestures lazily at Tara’s boneless form. “Does she look harmed to you?”I scoff. “You—” I swallow, forcing air into my lungs. “You drank her blood.”He smirks,
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 117. The Stable boy
[ELARA]I notice, somewhere between the refilled goblets and the swelling melody of the Bard’s latest song, that Magnus is gone. And Alistair with him. Not that I was informed about it. The feast carries on without them. The Bard, ever the showman, soaks in the attention, strumming his lute with a smirk that suggests he’s well aware of the effect he has on the court. Thornhall has something new to play with tonight. The dancers sit sulking in a corner, forgotten. The musicians find themselves disagreeing with the songs. “I will bed this man tonight,” Lady Brook announces, her words thick with drink as she leans forward, nearly spilling from her seat.I arch a brow. “The Bard?”“Who else?” she breathes, eyes heavy-lidded. “Look at him. That mouth was made for more than singing.”“That’s ambitious.” I huff a quiet laugh, lifting my goblet to my lips. “Don’t let Edith know.”“If I had a mother like that—” she begins with a lazy grin, then downs the rest of her wine. “What do you think
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 116. Burning for the Enemy
[ELARA]“Did you enjoy the ballad, Your Highness?” Valen’s teasing voice curls around me, his amusement barely concealed. He rises from his seat with effortless grace, extending his hand as if he knew—knew—I would come to him. “I worked with the man himself to craft it.”Every movement in the hall slows. A royal woman should not do this. A wife should not do this. The weight of a hundred eyes presses upon me, mouths whispering, hands tightening around goblets—a scandal. But let them watch. Let them see what their beloved prince has wrought. Let them murmur about the disgrace of Magnus’ mate, the woman who was meant to stand at his side.I take Valen’s hand. His skin is cooler than Magnus’, his grip lighter, but no less commanding.“Do not speak,” I say, my voice a blade, and he only grins.“Remember when I told you last night that when you command me, you’re even—”I cut him off. “Will you dance with me or not?” My words are steel-wrapped velvet, laced with something desperate and rec
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 115. A Fool for the Last Time
[ELARA]I want to leave. No—storm off. Let every guest see, let them know I do not stand by their beloved Prince, their cold and callous Magnus. Let them whisper about the insult, the blatant disrespect. I would not care. I want them to see. I want him to see.How dare he? How dare he shatter my heart so effortlessly, as if it were made of glass? If this is his response—if this is how he welcomes another into his arms so easily, so publicly—then what has he done in the quiet of the past five months? How many nights has he spent like this, without hesitation, without guilt?I knew Talisa—Morgana… kept him company, but I thought… no more. Not since he learned what we are to each other. Not since he learned I am his mate. But now my heart burns, set upon a spit, roasting in the heat of my own foolishness.I told myself he wouldn’t. That he couldn’t. But I see now—I was wrong. I was so wrong.And I kept Valen away because it was him I thought of. Even when Valen’s hands traced my skin, I
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 114. The Offering
[MAGNUS]Valen parts as if nothing has transpired between them—as if he didn’t just openly challenge me. He moves leisurely, as though this is his court, and not mine. A smirk ghosts his lips as he settles into one of the crowded rows, plucking a goblet of wine from a passing maid’s tray with effortless ease.His gaze doesn’t stray from Elara. He watches her as if she belongs to him. He dares to do this. Right in front of my eyes. In a castle I rule.Alistair steps forward to replace the bent chalice without a word. The wine’s poured again, but I no longer care to drink more. If the barrier in Elara’s chamber wasn’t breached, and Valen did not leave his chambers the whole night, when could he have given her the gift? And what did he give her? Before I can demand an answer from Elara, I’m interrupted by a lord whose name I do not recall. “Your Highness,” the human begins, bowing impressively low despite his age. “This humble servant has brought you an offering.”His voice draws Ela
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 113. A Feast of Fury
[MAGNUS]As the sun dips down the horizon, the Small Hall of the castle packs up with guests. Among the crowd are those who reside in the castle, lords and ladies from all corners of Tassel, and some from beyond the borders. And then there are the performers—the usual musicians, and the new dancers. And the bard—invited by Lord Valen. The air is already filled with lively music by the time I make my entry into the hall. I put on my persona—one I’ve perfected to please the masses, a mask that has efficiently erased my image as the crippled, wicked Prince of Caelondor, a name whispered across the continent. I smile, laugh, and greet people. It doesn’t matter who they are, they all get the same wide mouthed grin. They bow and curtsy. Others who are more touchy are removed by Alistair effortlessly. I don’t even sense her at first due to the shield. But she’s there, sitting on a chair behind the banquet table, hands clasped in her lap, looking ethereal in a golden and white gown. I forge
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 112. Caged Desires
[MAGNUS]To His Highness, the Rightful Heir,Your Highness,I pray this letter reaches you in safe hands, for I write in desperate times. The kingdom you once called home trembles under the weight of the false king’s rule. His greed knows no bounds—lands are seized without cause, coffers are drained by insatiable taxation, and noble blood is spilled for the mere crime of questioning his judgment. Once-loyal houses now stand divided as their heirs are taken as hostages, their warriors forced to fight in unwinnable wars against territories that were never our enemies. Your father’s kingdom is on the brink of ruin. The people whisper of rebellion, but they lack a leader to rally behind. Many among the nobility look not to the throne in the capital, but to the exiled prince, the rightful ruler, the son of a true king. If you would return, you would not stand alone. There are those of us willing to defy the tyrant and restore honor to the crown, even if he refuses to name you heir, we nee
Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince 111. A Rose and a Nightmare
[ELARA]I find myself on the shore of the Cursed Gulf yet again. The sky above me is the colour of flames—golden, orange, streaks of yellow and black, the world tilted on its axis in my perspective. My feet are hidden beneath the sand, but I don’t panic. Yet, I still wonder. Why am I back here again? My dreams haven’t been plagued by the Soulkeeper in months. Not since Valen taught me how to stop acknowledging its presence. I know I didn’t sleep with poison beneath my pillow last night.And I still am here, trapped in this nightmare. This is not real, I tell myself, willingly for this to fade, for me to wake. But it doesn’t happen. I suppose I will have to endure. And so I do. The boiling water of the sea lashes on the shore with each wave until it freezes, a cold mist enveloping me. This time when the Soulkeeper comes on his cog, his face isn’t hidden. No, the hood is drawn back, and staring right into my soul is the one red eye of Valen Blackbane. And despite everything I know a
