Alaric

CHAPTER FIVE

Chapter five

Alaric Ozera

He stands there—stiff as a board, unable to look away. His expression returns to indifference as the initial shock of finding his mate fades.

“You knew,” Alaric accuses, his voice low and sharp.

King Xavier doesn’t flinch. He moves beside him with a measured ease that screams absolute control. His calm demeanor a dead giveaway.

“What did you see?” Alaric demands. His eyes flare gold as Arian thrashes beneath the surface, furious their mate has yet to wake.

The king ignores his question.

“The guards on patrol caught them in the forest,” he says as he takes a seat on the next bed.

Only then does Alaric take notice of the other woman. An older version of his mate.

Alaric grunts, frustration simmering as Arian’s snarls reverberate in his head, clawing at what little patience he has left. To silence him, Alaric voices the question.

“Why aren’t they awake yet?” His gaze runs the length of her, searching for visible injuries. The woman calls to his protective instincts. So small and fragile.

“My men caught them trespassing. Why would they act otherwise?“ He asks, clearly irritated.

Alaric sees red. He snarls, lunging for Xavier only to be propelled backwards by an invisible force midair. Landing on his feet, he growls, turning towards the guard by the door—a shield between himself and the King.

Alaric turns to the Alpha who looks completely unfazed. He realizes the king had expected his outburst. He's livid, but now isn't the time or place to lose control.

He lets out a breath, running frantic fingers through his hair. Calming down, he reins a disgruntled Arian in. He easily masks his fury beneath neutral detachment.

”If you knew how I’d react, why phrase it that way?” Alaric says, voice dangerously low.

It would be foolish to pick a fight with him here, on his own territory. Alaric isn't stupid enough to start something he's likely to lose.

King Xavier stands with a shrug, unbothered and ready to leave. He brushes off Alaric's episode, saying calmly.

“No harm done. She is Princess Celeste Danver, daughter of Regent Vasilissa Danver, Supreme Head of this domain’s covens. I've alerted their mother, she'll be here at dawn. You have until then.” he turns towards the door. “You may take her to your room, if you wish.”

Alaric rolls his eyes. 'Like anyone could have stopped him.'

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Celeste Danver

A dull ache throbs behind her eyelids, leaving her disoriented and groggy. She takes a breath as memories flicker, flashes of bits and pieces, like a broken record. One face keeps popping up—Avaris.

“Ava!“ she shrieks, eyes flying open.

She squints, pupils adjusting to the immediate darkness. Rolling onto her side, she groans as pain jolts through her. She stiffens.

The side of the room before her is lit by moonlight, streaming in through an open window. Senses dulled, she tries moving her fingers which sends pain shooting up both limbs.

She steels herself, determined to make it to the window—desperate for a way out. Clenching her jaw, she bites back her cries, slowly crawling towards the edge. With each push the pain grows less, the effects of whatever was used on her quickly wearing off.

She makes it to the edge, rolling her legs off the bed, she sits upright. Her skin prickles and hairs stand on end, faced with the peculiar feeling of being watched. She dips her hand over the edge, concealing it from whoever is behind her.

She draws on her magic summoning a dagger. Twirling her wrist, she tests her mobility. It moves freely with little pain—it's bearable— their spell has nearly worn off. Her free hand clenches the sheets in a death grip. She remains seated, not wanting to alert her captor of her recovery so soon.

Logically she knows she is safe. If this person wanted her dead, they'd kill her in her sleep or at least put her in chains. Then again, her instincts scream danger and if the person behind her is as strong as her senses say then she's in for trouble. At this point, caution would be wise.

”What do you want from me? Where is my sister?” she asks, voice steadier than she feels. She refuses to look back, dreading what she may find.

There's a pause, silence stretches between them. Her heart races, almost certain he won't answer.

“She is safe,” a deep voice cuts through the dark. “You can see her in the morning.”

She exhales, relaxing slightly at his words. The dagger fading as easily as it came. Yet her unease lingers at the undercurrent of his words. Pain—or was it longing? She ignores it. Then she feels it.

Her hair is swept to the side, gentle fingers caress her nape. She stiffens at the contact. He had sounded so distant a moment ago. She whirls an instant 180, to find no one behind her.

At the far end of the bed, she sees the silhouette of a man. His features obscured by darkness give nothing away. His eyes, cold, Sleek black orbs gleam like obsidian — flecked with swirls of liquid gold.

Only werewolf royalty have gold eyes. She's relieved to know she wasn't taken down by a bunch of lowlifes. Despite the reprieve, the hunger in his eyes has her squirming under his heated gaze.

“Was that you?“ she questions. He tilts his head to the side.

The gesture of child-like innocence made sinister by the shadows surrounding him. Her gut twists, curiosity tinged with fear. Overreacting she murmurs, a futile attempt to convince herself. She rises to her feet.

“I'm very sorry for the inconvenience and grateful for your kind hospitality.… there's no need to take up more of your time—”

Her words are cut short as firm hands seize her waist, yanking her onto the bed. She frowns, eyes locking onto him.

“I insist you stay.” he tells her, voice leaving no room for argument.

Her eyes lock onto his, as if asking what next. In the blink of an eye he's before her, so close they breathe the same air.

She stares into his eyes, he's too young to be the alpha king of their sister domain, so?Recognition has her frozen in place. Prince Ozera, the current lord of darkness.

Rumors have it, he’s a beast — cruel and unforgiving, born of a long line of monsters.

“Lord Ozera.” she breathes, as if to confirm her theory.

“What is my name, Celeste?” he purrs, a low rumbling sound that sends shivers to her core.

Alaric groans, the smell of her arousal filling the air. He nuzzles her, breathing in her warm cinnamon scent. He brushes the tip of his nose along her shoulder — the need to taste her's almost unbearable. His tongue darts out for a taste, warm breath ghosts her skin.

Her breath hitches, she pulls away. Bolting to her feet, she conjures twin balls of flame. Her heart's racing, cheeks stained pink as she glares at him clearly flustered.

Alaric scolds his wolf for scaring her off, sniffing her like a dog.

'I just wanted her attention.' Arian whines. Not happy to see their mate run.

Alaric couldn't be bothered to reply the petulant mutt. He sighs, getting off the bed. He steps into the stream of moonlight, hands raised in a placating gesture. He slowly walks towards her.

“I can explain, simply put those away.” he offers.

She scoffs, her eyes narrowing down on him. “I think I'll keep them as a deterrent.”

He c***s a brow, then grins. Both surging balls of flame fly out of her hands and towards him. Stopping just in front of him.

They part, floating at his sides like loyal guard dogs. Cackling midair, they radiate heat and light, casting shadows across his face—giving his features an eerie glow.

“You were saying?” he drawls.

She smirks. A snap of her fingers, and both balls of fire explode in his face.

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Hey guys, so Alaric blames Arian for sniffing Celeste. Hmm... Is it okay then to say the lick was all him. Talk of hypocrisy, this just might be the height of it.

So what do you guys think of our little spitfire, I for one love girls who can stand their ground. So all you prince charmings out there watch out, this is a one girl rodeo.

Vote and comment people.

Lots of love. ❤️