All Chapters of Bewitching the Alpha: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

THE FOREST floor clawed at Selene’s worn boots, each root and rock a fresh agony against her blistered soles. She hadn’t stopped running for three days, not since the last coven she’d sought refuge with had turned on her. Their fear of her unbound magic had curdled into a desperate, rabid hunt, their whispers of ‘rogue’ and ‘danger’ still echoing in her ears. Her lungs burned, a raw, ragged rhythm in her chest, but stopping was a luxury she couldn’t afford. Not now. Not ever. The scent of pine and damp earth clung to her, a constant, smothering reminder of her desperate flight.The air shifted, growing heavy, almost viscous. It wasn't just the humidity of the deep woods; it was a palpable pressure, a magical weight that made the hairs on her arms prickle. She knew this feeling. It was the distinct hum of a territory saturated with power, but unlike the thin, reedy whispers of other witch covens, this felt… primal. Wild. Untamed. Like a living, breathing entity coiling around her.Werew

SELENA didn't know how long she’d been unconscious. When she finally clawed her way back to awareness, it wasn't the cold stone that dominated her senses, but a low, rhythmic thrumming. It vibrated through her bones, through the very air of her cell, a deep, resonant hum that intensified with every beat of her frantic heart. The moonlight filtering through the high window was no longer a sliver; it was a broad, silver stream, bathing the cell in an ethereal glow.Full moon.A cold dread coiled in her gut. Waldemar’s words from the previous night echoed in her mind: "On the eve of the full moon… A night of rituals." The thrumming intensified, accompanied now by a faint, distant chanting, a primal, guttural sound that raised the hairs on her arms. This wasn't just a ritual. This was a pack gathering, a powerful culmination of their collective strength.She tugged at her chains, desperately, uselessly. The iron chafed her wrists raw, but the manacles held fast. Her magic, still a dull ach

THE KISS was a conflagration, a devouring flame that consumed Selene’s every thought, every protest. Waldemar’s mouth was a searing brand against hers, possessive, hungry, demanding. His arms, like iron bands, pulled her flush against his hard, muscled body, eliminating any space between them. She was trapped, engulfed by his raw power, his intoxicating scent, the overwhelming, undeniable reality of the Moonbind.Her mind screamed defiance, a desperate, futile cry against the pleasure that surged through her veins. It was a terrifying, all-encompassing sensation, a molten river that flowed from Waldemar’s lips directly into her core. Her body, a traitorous vessel, responded with shocking immediacy. A deep, aching throb pulsed in her belly, spreading outwards, making her muscles clench and her skin prickle with desperate need.She tried to resist, to push him away, her hands flat against his chest, but her fingers curled, digging into the soft fabric of his shirt. Instead of pushing, sh

THE WORLD exploded in sensation. Waldemar’s kiss wasn't an act of love, or even passion, but a raw, forceful consumption. It was meant to dominate, to break, to prove his terrifying words true. And for a terrifying, fleeting moment, it worked. The aching need that had simmered beneath Selene’s skin roared to life, demanding, aching, shattering her composure. His tongue plunged into her mouth, hot and insistent, tangling with hers in a primal dance of surrender and conquest. She tasted him – wild and untamed, like the ancient forests that surrounded them, mixed with a hint of something deeper, something intrinsically male.Her hands, which had been pressing against his chest, moved without conscious thought, clutching at his shoulders, her fingers digging into the hard planes of his muscles. The silk tunic she wore felt too constricting, her skin too sensitive. Every nerve ending seemed to be vibrating, a high-pitched hum of desperate longing.Waldemar tore his mouth from hers, a low,

THE OPULENCE of Waldemar’s chambers had quickly morphed from a gilded cage into a gilded torment. Every silk thread, every polished piece of wood, every scent in the air was a constant, suffocating reminder of her captivity and the Alpha who claimed her. The Moonbind was a living, breathing entity within her, a relentless current of unwanted desire that pulsed beneath her skin. Waldemar had given her clothes, food, and the freedom of his luxurious suite, yet her essence felt more chained than it had in the dungeon’s cold embrace.He hadn't returned since the brutal kiss that manifested the claiming mark, a brief reprieve that offered no solace. Every moment was a battle against her own body. The craving was an insidious fire, burning low but steadily, promising an inferno if denied. It flared with every stray thought of him, every whiff of his lingering scent on the sheets, every tremor of magic that stirred within her.Selene refused to surrender. She wouldn't be broken. She wouldn't