All Chapters of My Alpha Mate Wants Me Back: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

KierLong nails coated in red drum against the table in an odd rhythm. Once. Twice. Thrice. I stare at them. She’s always looked lovely in anything she wears, but there’s something about her wearing red that undoes me.She takes her hands if the table, folding them against her chest. That. Damned. Corset. Plush, succulent skin rises and falls, and I tear my gaze away before she can catch me staring at her breasts. “King Kier, your request is not one to be taken lightly. The relationship between our kingdoms has been strained, and Neredia's actions have not always been honorable. It is simply illogical to form an alliance with you that doesn’t benefit us in anyway. My answer is still no.”Since when am I King Kier? My fists clench underneath the table. “Us? Until two months ago, Neredia was your home—”Jessamine holds up a single finger, hushing me in a manner that absolutely baffles me. It’s something about the gesture that yells regal. Every movement she makes is necessary, every shi

JessamineI chuckle. "This is your new ploy to get rid of me? I refuse to believe you're stupid enough not to notice when a man isn't being honest. There are always signs. I refuse to believe you would sell your family out for a man's attention. And it's highly unlikely that Rogue King Atticus would cross into our borders without being detected, and all to seduce you. You must think me a fool. What might you say next? That I should come with you so that you can murder me and hide my body?"The moment the words leave my lips, I feel terrible. She's what? Eighteen? A child. I stare at the wild panic in her eyes and her small, trembling frame, and there is a war going on inside me. A war between that side of me that wants to look past how terrible she has been to me, and the part of me that wants to damn her to hell.Nymeria falls back by a step, red-rimmed eyes squeezing shut. "I didn't want to come to you. I don't even like you. But I had no choice. If I told anyone else, they would ta

KierI can’t sleep. I’m strung up too tight, and my dreams are overwhelmed by Zephyr on a fruitless search for something in the wild. I wake with ash in my mouth and torn sheets, hungry beyond comprehension. It’s been like this since I walked into Jessamine’s dream—though she hates to admit that it was hers.The clothes in my dresser are unexpectedly a comfortable fit, and I change into a pair of long, black pants that seem to expand as I pull them up. I have no idea what the material is, but when I return home, I’ll have them recreate this. It’d be comfortable for the men’s training than fighting leathers.All the shirts are odd, different from the usual designs for tunics, but I find that I might like them as well, when the white I slip on fits rather snugly. Lloyd would love these.A sudden bout of sadness clutches at my chest and I sigh heavily, walking out of my room. I turn left and right, trying to recall where to go. A small man named Coral had given me a tour, but I was too b

JessamineThe notes have returned. I found one tucked beside my pillow, the crippling stench of burnt amber accompanying it. I found yet another riddle written in it and I’m certain someone is trying to mess with me. It read; Tell me, Jessamine Hunter, did you feel relieved when you saw her lying in her blood?Those words threw me off balance. Only I knew the way mother died. She killed herself and my hands were much too small to lift her. I pulled at her corpse for hours, and I remember what the blood looked like, drawing a trail along the rough floor. Her eyes were opened. I didn’t close them. I didn’t look at her face. Or her hands.Maybe I should have. Maybe mother didn’t kill herself. I don’t know what to think. It’s the same way I felt when I returned home that day. While I hate to admit it, we were like each other in the fact that there was never a situation so dire that we would consider harming ourselves. She was ill, but she loved living. To tell me those stories, to tra

JessamineMy hand rises to his chest to shove him off, but it flattens instead, almost unconsciously, letting the warmth of him seep up through my palm. I hadn’t realized how cold I’d become. How warm he was. How perfect he felt.And he’s kissing me like he never has before. It is life. It is a revival. Mine. It is a reunion, a rediscovery. It is a tempest, a rage of emotions unleashed. It is war. It is violent. It is a storm. A bittersweet echo, a memory rewritten, rewoven into every living cell of my body. It is a bridge rebuilt, broken, mended and torn down again. It is a rekindling. I am an ember. I am floating. I am dying. I am soaring. I am falling.I’m forgetting everything. My brain is ash, and I am liquid flame, fanned into existence by breath he instils into me. His hands are cradling my head, his mouth grounding against mine, his tongue stroking and lashing at mine. I taste my own blood and his. I don’t care. I don’t remember why I should. I can’t get close enough.“You lov