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Chapter 22: Healing Touch
Last Updated:
2025-04-05 00:35:05
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The den stank of blood and fear when the scout stumbled in, his body a wreck—fur torn, one eye a swollen mess, claws scraping the stone floor as he fell hard. I froze, my bare feet cold against the dirt, green eyes wide, watching from the shadows as the hall went dead quiet. Lucien lunged forward, his boots slamming the ground, a growl tearing from his throat, low and vicious. He dropped to his knees beside the scout, scarred hands gripping the wolf’s shoulder, ice-blue eyes blazing like a storm about to break. “What happened?” he snarled, voice rough, the air thick with tension, the metallic tang of blood choking me.The scout coughed, wet and ragged, blood flecking his cracked lips. “Dax… sent a message,” he rasped, his voice barely there, shaking. “Hand over Selene… or the pack burns… by dawn.” My chest locked tight, green eyes fierce, the words hitting me like a blade, cold and sharp. Lucien’s growl deepened, his fingers digging into the scout’s shoulder, scars flexing under the t
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The forest swallowed me whole, its darkness thick and heavy, the air sharp with pine and wet dirt. My bare feet sank into the mud, cold and slick, each step a fight, my breath puffing white in the faint moonlight. The bag slapped against my hip, light but loaded with my choice—to run, to shield the pack, to escape the mess I’d made. But Lucien’s touch lingered, his kiss a brand on my lips, his heat tugging me back, damn him. I pushed forward, green eyes sharp, scanning the trees, their branches jagged and black, clawing at the sky like broken fingers.A twig cracked behind me, loud and sudden. My heart lurched, chest squeezing, green eyes wide as I spun, breath locked tight. Nothing—just the wind, leaves whispering, the forest alive and watching. But I felt it—someone close, stalking me, their presence heavy. I bolted, feet sliding, mud grabbing at me, pulse pounding, fear and anger churning hot in my stomach. He was coming. I knew it, his growl echoing in my head, his voice—you’re mi
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The Ironclaw Pack’s ceremonial clearing was alive with this antsy buzz, everyone itching for something big. The full moon hung up there like a fat, nosy spotlight, catching all these werewolves still human-shaped, chatting and milling around. Their eyes had this yellow flicker—creepy little hints of the monsters they’d turn into later. Tonight’s the night I’m supposed to tie myself to Alpha Dean, big shot of these woods. Lucky me, huh. Yeah, right. I stand at the center of the clearing, the silver threaded gown clinging to my skin like a second pelt, itchy and restrictive. My long dark hair braided with moonflowers, a tradition I’d mocked earlier to my best friend, Mira, who rolled her eyes and told me to suck it up. “You look like a goddess” she’d said. “Act like one.” Easy for her to say- she wasn’t the one about to pledge her life to a man who treated her like a prized trophy.Dean stands across from me, tall and imposing in his ceremonial robes, his golden hair standing out am
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The forest held its breath as Dean’s teeth grazed my neck, his bite a jagged claim that sent a shiver of disgust down my spine. The pack watched, their eyes glinting yellow under the full moon, waiting for the blood seal to bind me to him forever. I couldn’t do this—couldn’t be his, couldn’t let this night steal my soul. I know for a fact that I'll be miserable.But before I could pull away, the world exploded into chaos. A howl—sharp, guttural, and wrong—tore through the clearing. Not the pack’s ritual cry, but something feral, laced with menace. The trees erupted with shadows, dark shapes spilling from the undergrowth like ink. Wolves, but not ours. Their fur was a clumpy mess, eyes glowing red like some nightmare fuel, and their growls screamed ‘you’re toast.’ My pack—Ironclaw—stood there like idiots for half a second before all hell broke loose with yelling and bones cracking into their wolf forms.“Ambush!” Old Galen’s creaky voice hacked over the noise, his twisted fingers
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Selene’s POVThe cave was a damp, stinking hole—cold stone digging into my back, shackles chewing my wrists raw. I’d lost track of time, maybe hours, maybe days, slumped against that rusted ring like some kicked dog. My braid was a tangled wreck, moonflowers long gone, and my silver gown was more blood and dirt than fabric now. My side throbbed where that wolf’s claws had ripped me open, a dull ache I couldn’t shake. I was a mess, yeah, but I wasn’t broken. Not yet. Footsteps crunched outside—boots, not paws. I straightened, wincing as the iron bit deeper, and squinted into the dim light. Lucien stepped in, that bastard with his black leathers and ice-blue eyes, looking too damn calm for someone who’d just snatched me from my life. Two wolves followed behind him—Ragnar, the wiry creep with a smirk I wanted to claw off, and Vira, the braided one who smelled like moss and Sex for some reason. “Rise and shine, princess,” Ragnar sneered, cracking his knuckles. “Time to move.” “Cal
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Selene’s POVI stumbled back to my room, door slamming behind me, heart pounding like I’d sprinted through the damn woods, not just down a hall. Lucien—shirtless, sweaty, that blonde pinned under him—kept flashing in my skull, sharp as a claw to the gut. I leaned against the wall, breath ragged, muttering, “Get a grip, Selene, he’s a bastard,” but my brain wasn’t listening. It was stuck—his firm ass flexing as he moved, those six-pack ridges glinting with sweat, every muscle in his back rolling like he was built to break things—or bodies. I slid down, ass hitting the floor, and pressed my palms to my eyes, trying to scrub it out. Didn’t work. That image burned hotter—his scars crisscrossing that stupidly perfect chest, the way his arms flexed, pinning her like it was nothing. And then—damn it—my mind went lower, picturing what I didn’t see. His pants had been tight, zipper straining, and I couldn’t stop wondering—how big, how hard, what it’d look like free, thick and ready. My breat
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Lucien’s POVShe hadn’t eaten—three days of Vira hauling trays back untouched, meat going cold, bread stale. “She’s starving herself,” Vira had growled last night, mossy eyes narrow, like it was my damn fault. Maybe it was—snatched her, locked her up, and now she’s pulling this stunt, digging under my skin worse than her damn “Sourface” crack after catching me with Lena. Those green eyes, slicing through me mid-thrust, wouldn’t quit—her scent—blood, flowers, wild—clinging like a burr I couldn’t shake. Revenge was supposed to be clean—use her, break Dean—but she’s a splinter, and I’m the fool itching to yank her out or shove her deeper. I’d had it—stormed the kitchen, grabbed a steak—rare, bloody, dripping on my hand—no plate, no fuss. She wants to play stubborn? Fine. I’d make her eat, shove it down her smart mouth if I had to. Upstairs, her door loomed—busted window frame still mocking me from Vira’s report—and I kicked it open, hinges groaning. There she was, slumped on the bed, l
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The forest swallowed me whole, its darkness thick and heavy, the air sharp with pine and wet dirt. My bare feet sank into the mud, cold and slick, each step a fight, my breath puffing white in the faint moonlight. The bag slapped against my hip, light but loaded with my choice—to run, to shield the pack, to escape the mess I’d made. But Lucien’s touch lingered, his kiss a brand on my lips, his heat tugging me back, damn him. I pushed forward, green eyes sharp, scanning the trees, their branches jagged and black, clawing at the sky like broken fingers.A twig cracked behind me, loud and sudden. My heart lurched, chest squeezing, green eyes wide as I spun, breath locked tight. Nothing—just the wind, leaves whispering, the forest alive and watching. But I felt it—someone close, stalking me, their presence heavy. I bolted, feet sliding, mud grabbing at me, pulse pounding, fear and anger churning hot in my stomach. He was coming. I knew it, his growl echoing in my head, his voice—you’re mi
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The den stank of blood and fear when the scout stumbled in, his body a wreck—fur torn, one eye a swollen mess, claws scraping the stone floor as he fell hard. I froze, my bare feet cold against the dirt, green eyes wide, watching from the shadows as the hall went dead quiet. Lucien lunged forward, his boots slamming the ground, a growl tearing from his throat, low and vicious. He dropped to his knees beside the scout, scarred hands gripping the wolf’s shoulder, ice-blue eyes blazing like a storm about to break. “What happened?” he snarled, voice rough, the air thick with tension, the metallic tang of blood choking me.The scout coughed, wet and ragged, blood flecking his cracked lips. “Dax… sent a message,” he rasped, his voice barely there, shaking. “Hand over Selene… or the pack burns… by dawn.” My chest locked tight, green eyes fierce, the words hitting me like a blade, cold and sharp. Lucien’s growl deepened, his fingers digging into the scout’s shoulder, scars flexing under the t
The Alpha King's Captive Bride: Forbidden Desires Chapter 22: Healing Touch
Selene’s POVThe shack’s walls sagged, rot seeping from the wood, the air thick with damp and the sour stink of blood. Mist curled outside, gray and heavy, choking the pines, but inside, it was just us—me and Lucien, bruised and torn, the seer’s words still clawing at my skull: Break it as one, or burn as one. My bare feet stuck to the dirt floor, cold and gritty, jeans ripped at the thigh, blood streaking my skin from the scout fight—mine, theirs, his. Lucien slumped against the wall, shirt shredded, chest heaving, scars slashed open by claws, blood dripping dark and slow, pooling in the dirt. His ice-blue eyes glinted, half-lidded, pain etched deep, but alive—damn him, alive and pulling me in. I dropped to my knees beside him, mud sucking at my skin, green eyes sharp, breath tight in my chest. “You’re a mess,” I said, voice low, rough, hands shaking as I tore a strip from my sweater—already frayed, soaked with sweat and filth. He growled, low and wet, ice-blue flicking to me, his l
The Alpha King's Captive Bride: Forbidden Desires Chapter 21: The Hunt for Answers
Selene’s POVThe forest stank of wet earth and rot, mist so thick it clung to my skin like a damp shroud, cold and slimy. My bare feet sank into the muck, toes curling against the chill, jeans plastered to my legs, heavy with mud and blood from yesterday’s kill. The letter in my pocket burned against my thigh—golden wolf, blood ties, betrayal, curse—its ink bleeding into my thoughts, eating me alive. Ahead, Lucien prowled, boots squelching, his shirt soaked to his scarred chest, muscles flexing under the thin fabric, ice-blue eyes cutting through the gloom. Last night, his growl had pinned me to the wall—you’re mine, curse or not—his breath hot on my neck, stirring something dark and hungry in me. Now we chased the seer, the one who’d known my mother, who might unravel the howl tearing me apart, the curse sinking its claws deeper every damn day. The air turned sour, a wet-dog reek hitting me hard—wolves, too close, stalking us. My green eyes flared, chest tightening, every muscle coi
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Selene’s POV The night clung to me, heavy and close, the air thick with pine and wet dirt. The den’s stone walls trapped the chill, pressing it into my skin as my bare feet scraped the rough floor. My jeans were stiff with dried mud, crusted from the fight two days back, and my mother’s letter sat like a stone in my pocket. Its words chewed at me—golden wolf, blood ties, betrayal, curse—over and over, relentless. Lucien’s growl still rang in my head from earlier, his ice-blue eyes burning when he’d sworn we’d face it together. Now, the main hall stretched out empty, torchlight flickering faint and yellow, throwing twisted shadows that clawed up the walls. I moved silent as a breath, green eyes sharp, chest tight, hunting for him, for something to quiet the chaos tearing me up inside. A low growl rolled from the far end, near the hearth where the fire had collapsed into glowing embers, red and sullen. Vira’s voice sliced through the stillness, rough and deep, her mossy scent hittin
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Selene’s POVThe den’s main hall loomed around me, its stone walls closing in tight, torchlight sputtering like the last breaths of a dying fire, throwing long, twisted shadows that scratched at the floor. My bare feet scraped the cold stone, silent as a wraith, jeans crusted with mud, the letter in my pocket heavy as a blade, its words branded into my skull—golden wolf, blood ties, betrayal, curse. Lucien’s growl from last night still rattled my bones, his ice-blue eyes slicing through me with distrust, his body heat slamming into me when he’d pinned me against the wall, demanding I spill it all. Now he stood by the hearth, shirt unbuttoned, scars rippling across his chest like battle maps, his stare fixed on the parchment as I shoved it into his hands, my fingers grazing his—warm, calloused, a jolt sparking through me, alive and dangerous. He snatched it, ice-blue eyes narrowing to slits, a growl rumbling deep in his chest as he unfolded the worn page, torchlight catching the fraye
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Selene’s POVThe den swallowed sound, its stone walls cold and unyielding, pressing against my ribs like a fist. Torchlight danced weakly, orange and frail, throwing shadows that clawed across the floor, long and sharp. My bare feet scuffed the gritty stone, silent as a ghost, my jeans crusted with mud that flaked off in dry, crumbling patches. The sweater clung to me, frayed at the shoulder where Lucien’s fingers had dug in last night, tearing the fabric when he’d shoved me in here. I’d been pacing this cell for hours, my green eyes glinting in the dim, restless, caged—mind spinning, feral, alive. His words from last night chewed at me, relentless: his parents betrayed by Dax’s father, my mother’s howl ripping through the war to end it. It twisted everything—every memory, every hate, every certainty I’d clung to. A flash caught my eye, small but sharp, winking from the corner where stone met dirt. I froze, my green eyes narrowing, feet stilling, breath held tight in my chest. Steppi
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Selene’s POV The den was a hollow shell tonight, stone walls drinking in the quiet, torchlight sputtering weak and orange, shadows twitching like restless spirits. My bare feet pressed the cold floor, jeans crusted with mud, sweater frayed at the shoulder where Lucien’s grip had torn it days ago, the air thick with smoke and the stag’s roasted scent. I’d stitched him up yesterday, his blood on my fingers, his ice-blue eyes piercing mine, his breath hot, stirring me, damn it, stirring me. He hadn’t shoved me off, hadn’t snarled, just let me linger close, his heat seeping into me, steamy, wild, alive. Now he was out there, by the fire, his growl rumbling low, and I was here, pacing my cell, green eyes glinting, mind churning, fierce, restless, caged. The door sat ajar, steel bolts slack, a sliver of light leaking in from the hall, voices drifting, low, rough, his voice, gravelly, slicing through the stillness. I stopped, green eyes narrowing, ears pricking, bare feet hushed, steppin
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Lucien’s POVThe forest pressed in tight, pines clawing at the gray sky, wind cutting through my fur, cold and sharp, my paws sinking into the damp earth. Vira flanked me, mossy scent thick, her breath puffing white, Ragnar a heavy shadow on my right, scars glinting, his growl low, steady, my wolves, my hunters, my pack. We’d been out since dawn, tracking a stag, its musk faint but close, my chest heaving, ice-blue eyes narrowing, hunger gnawing at my gut, fury still simmering from her, from Selene, her green eyes blazing in my skull, her scent wild, earthy, pulling at me, stirring me, damn it, stirring me. She’d excelled yesterday, hauling wood, skinning hides, her hands steady, her strength quiet, fierce, and I hated it, hated how it twisted me, how my wolves watched her, how I watched her. The stag bolted, antlers flashing, hooves pounding, my growl tearing free, loud, rough, lunging, claws slashing mud, Vira and Ragnar bursting with me, fur bristling, my pack, my hunt, my kill. I
