All Chapters of The Tyrant alpha: Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

“Well, let’s hope no one notices if it’s shit.” She glances meaningfully at the mortar and pestle in front of me. I push up my striped shirt sleeves and get to work.The kettle’s tab clicks, and Abertha busies herself pouring two cups of tea. I grind. Dragon’s tongue isn’t hard, but it clumps, and it needs to be an even consistency or the nobs think there’s something wrong with it.Eventually, she sits, passing me a cup already milked and sugared. I finish the batch I’m working on, pouring it into the funnel stuck in the mouth of one of the blown glass vials Abertha trades for at the human farmers’ market in Chapel Bell. I don’t see why we don’t stick the stuff in one gallon-sized plastic baggie and call it a day, but she says the nobs will trade twice as much if it’s in cute little jars.Once I’ve corked the vial, I blow on my cup. The steam warms my cheeks. Across the table, Abertha stirs her tea, tapping the rim with her silver spoon, measuring me up.There’s a scratching at the do

How much longer am I going to be able to hold out?A few hours ago, after I finished my tea, the cramps started. I haven’t had anything to eat or drink since. There’s no way I could keep anything down.I keep waiting for the discomfort to ease like before, but this time, it only gets worse. I’m slick with sweat, and everything is prickly and sensitive—my skin, my nipples, my clit.My hair is matted to the back of my neck, the elastic legs of my panties are chafing, and I want to dunk myself in the lake, but I don’t have the energy to haul myself out of this chair.Derwyn’s skulking out in the woods, downwind so at least I can’t smell him, but he’s playing some game on his phone with the sound up. I want to beat him with the noise he’s making.At some point, he talks to someone. He says, “She’s not going anywhere. She doesn’t look too good. I think it’s time, man.”What am I supposed to do?Be true to myself? What the hell does that mean?Value what’s really important? Right now, I’d k

My mate won’t hurt me. He’ll make me feel good, and I want that more than anything. The need is riding me, harder and harder. I push him back so I have room to turn and settle on my hands and knees. I arch my back, looking for him over my shoulder.He’s taut as a bow, carved out of stone. My mate, the statue. I flash him a kind smile. In this moment, I approve of him entirely.“Now,” I tell him.His lungs catch. He walks forward on his knees, frowning, brows speared down. I raise my hips and shove my fingers between my legs, smearing the slick and rubbing the hard nub that spurs my need higher.Everything feels good. His eyes on me. His scent in my lungs. The heat radiating from his body.He curves over me, his cock sliding between my folds, and I edge my stance wider, cocking my hips higher, opening up for him. He prods my pulsing channel, and I don’t have time to register anything besides the hardness and impossible width before his cocks slips backward. I clench my bottom to stop h

Maybe Fate gifted him to me. Why not? Just because he doesn’t want me doesn’t mean that I don’t get to decide, too.Do I want him?Why would I?The sex probably could have been worse. I’ve heard plenty of stories from Drona and Arly. He tried to be gentle, and that’s apparently more than you can expect from most nobs. It was nice until it was over. He said nice things. That was all right.My cheeks burn, and my belly aches in a sad way. I quicken my pace.Cadoc turned his back on me. He couldn’t get out of the trailer fast enough, and obviously, that’s a clear and unequivocal “hell no” from him.But I get to choose, too, right? He just beat me to the punch.I know this is nonsense, but it’s helping me pick up the pieces of my pride and duct tape them back together, and I’ll do whatever it takes—tell myself whatever lie I have to—so I never feel like I did in my nest ever, ever again.So, okay—would I choose Cadoc Collins?No.Not in a million years.Why would I?Looks, rank, power, mo

It’s not a reassurance at all anymore. It’s another thing tearing at my flesh that I have to ignore.The elevator dings and the door glides open. The foyer and hall are illuminated with low light from crystal sconces. A Powell and a Rosser are on sentry duty. I acknowledge them with a nod.Tomorrow, I’ll go to Killian. Enough playing around. I either figure out how to beat Alban Hughes, or I end up in a bone pile. That’s my future.And if Alban wins, who will take care of Rosie?My heartbeat—not steady since I got the call from Derwyn that Rosie was ready—picks up.Rosie rambles through the woods alone like a lost lamb, looking for who knows what, not even blinking when ferals howl less than a mile away. I’d think she was moon mad if she wasn’t so damn sweet and easy.Her temper has the force of a small pup’s, and she can hold onto it about as long.She’s delicate and warm, her every feeling as plain as day.Her eyes rounded in wonder when she came on my cock, and afterwards, she purr