All Chapters of Prince Alpha's Rejected Maid: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Her ambiguous report on Vanessa ruffled him the wrong way. He wanted her to do more, know more. Know better. But he can’t command them anything. Like rogues, healers were born, not made. Their healing qualities were a sum of genetics, experience and years of learning. This was one race wolves lagged in, they never felt the need to experiment, study clinical trials because their pack healers could find faults, diseases, benign or cancerous . They spent their strength on healing wolves by rejuvenating the cells. Being an Alpha made no guarantees of all that he knew. Healers, all across the world, never talked much about how they healed wolves. It was no guarded secret, they just didn’t expect others to understand. ‘How is she?’ Evan. Again.He had talked to him three times already. He was still with Ian who had fallen asleep in Vanessa’s room apparently because he was too stubborn to go to his room. Poor Evan was scared of a child. Noa h knew then, to not force the matter. ‘Fine. Sh

How delusional was she? He wasn’t to be tamed with a few ‘pleases’. She was hurt. And he hurt her. That didn’t give her the right to draw a wedge between them. His wolf battered away at his head but Noah, the human half, knew how this worked. Still, he didn’t know why he couldn’t follow Mikhail’s advice and cut himself clean, no strings, and walk away. How could he?Noah had demanded, ordered, chastised, going lax only when her defenses were down. But now he coaxed her. Not with his tongue alone. He looked different. The poignant look he had perfected slipped away like an old visage. He was feeling something. Something he couldn’t speak about. She had never pitied him before, and she wasn’t going to now. But she can assume how lonely it had to be. She was lonely too.And her wolf was content, lapping up the steamrolled expertise of his wolf. Noah didn’t let her do much work. Dictating how they angled their heads to how long they can survive without air. Well, her. Because she was pa

‘Father’. If he didn’t care for theatrics, he’d be gritting his teeth. No way was he giving into Rourke Abel forcing things out of him he didn’t want to speak about.His father was making his way down the hill. His age tenuously weathered the large build. Few years ago, maybe when Noah and Mikhail were twenty, that force would’ve made them shrink. Despite his rebellion, Noah never got over how easily his father had dismissed him from his life. He knew pack first policy, had it ingrained in him. But his father always cared, just not enough.So this prosaic personality now looking at them with squinted eyes and slightly aged bloating near his face, didn’t make him break out in a sweat or make a typical reactionary out of him. Both Mihail and Riyas are out of there, traitors that they are. He knows they dont fear him. But they respect his privacy.“I heard you are wheedling Desmond.” Rourke Abel says in the way of greeting. His big lips and blunt nose, courtesy of aging, have left nothi

He was not the guy who’d rush to her bedroom and return with a couple of blankets, make a tent for them both to stake out on the kitchen floor. No. He’d carry her unless she explicitly stopped him. She was staring at him from underneath her lids, her eyes spoke volumes. She was pushing his limits like always. Her cleavage, incidentally, fell in the direct path of the moonlight from the opposing window. The bared flesh was an invitation to be stroked and marked. “That’s your final choice?” He wanted the pretense of choice, so he could take back some control. His voice had gone hoarse, and he was hard enough that the constraints of his jeans made him uncomfortable. She bit her lip and nodded. He stared at her, wanting to tuck back the locks that escaped her rubber band because they were standing in the way of appreciating her small chin, and full cheekbones. It was unfair at times, how tender and volatile she made him.He didn’t let her gauge his actions, hooking his hand under her a

"What are you…. I didn't know you could cook?!" She didn't know a lot of things about him. It didn't eat at her before but it did now. "You think I can't?" He sent her a pithy look. And then returned to the task. He sat the pan sizzling, grabbed a packet of brown bread and went on to make what resembled an egg sandwich. She stared at his back, the contours of muscles and veins, symmetry and balance and unintended strength all worked in idealized proportion. What if he could be her personal chef? "Are you checking me out, Vanessa?" He hummed, placing the sandwiches on a plate. "I am" She smacked her lips "you are hot. Really." Her eyes danced with laughter. He already took a huge bite of his bread and egg before placing hers in front. Every mundane thing on him, like eating, was effectively sexy when he did it. She was sitting on the table, her legs dangling down. Noah knew she did it because the chair would be more comfortable for him, it was large and reclined. But he couldn't