All Chapters of The Alpha King's Captive Bride: Forbidden Desires : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Lucien’s POVI’m still breathing, just. Dax’s trap hit like a storm, his wolves flooding from the shadows, golden fur flashing, claws tearing, blood soaking the earth, my pack crumbling under their fangs. I fought in the chaos, paws slipping in mud, scars splitting, ice-blue cutting through the red haze, snarling, slashing, losing. Vira’s growl sounded left, Ragnar’s roar right, my last wolves, my only survivors, the rest gone, ripped apart, dead. My chest heaved, fur drenched red, rage boiling, no thrill left, just fury, pure, hot, clawing at my gut. His wolves kept coming, relentless, too many, dens vomiting more, no escape, no chance, just blood, just fight. I sank claws into a throat, blood spraying, another hit my side, teeth ripping, I spun, crushed its skull, panting, bleeding, barely upright. “Vira, Ragnar, on me,” I roared, voice rough, throat scraped raw, pack dying around me, my mistake, my blood. Vira lunged, claws slashing a wolf off my back, mossy stench thick, Ragnar

Dax’s POVBlood still clung to my claws, thick, dark, Lucien’s wolves staining the dirt where they fell, their snarls silenced, their pack broken. I stood at the edge of Ironclaw’s den, golden fur matted with sweat, chest heaving slow, steady, the air heavy with death and victory. My wolves moved around me, dragging bodies, piling them high, a warning, a trophy, their growls low, satisfied, mine. The trap worked, snapped shut just as I’d planned—empty dens, baited silence, then us, crashing through, tearing his world apart. But he slipped out, that scarred bastard, with two of his mutts, limping, bleeding, alive. My lip curled, teeth glinting, fury simmering low, hot, clawing at my gut. He shouldn’t have made it. I’d wanted him dead, crushed, his ice-blue eyes blank, his pack dust under my paws. I paced, claws raking the mud, golden fur catching the gray light spilling through the pines, my den looming behind, stone and earth, strong, unbroken. The wind carried their scent still, fa

Lucien’s POV Her scent clung to me like smoke, wild, earthy, sharp, searing my lungs from that moment on the stairs, her body brushing mine, her breath hot, her green eyes cutting through me. My boots pounded the den’s stone floor, chest heaving, scars stretching under my open shirt, blood flaking off my arm where it had dried, her defiance a live coal smoldering in my gut. She’d nearly slipped free, bare feet silent, green eyes blazing, almost gone until I’d caught her, too close, her heat sinking into me, stirring me, twisting me. I’d hauled her back, locked her in, but those eyes stayed, slashing me, daring me, and I hated it, hated her, hated how she’d burrowed under my skin. I stormed into the main hall, torchlight flickering, orange glow dancing on the walls, Vira and Ragnar slumped by the fire, fur matted, blood crusting, my last wolves, my only fangs. Vira’s brown eyes lifted, cautious, bruised, her arm bandaged where Selene had taken her down, mossy scent thick, her growl

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

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