Bound to the Ruthless Alpha King

CHAPTER 9 — The Blood That Shouldn’t Exist

The doors stayed shut long after he left, their echo swallowed by the heavy silence of the throne room. For a moment, I didn’t move. Couldn’t move. My legs felt like they were carved from marble—cold, rigid, barely obeying me.

My breath shook as it escaped, and the air tasted different now—heavier, warmer, as if his presence still lingered even though he was gone.

And maybe it did.

It felt like the room itself held his imprint, his power woven into the very air around me, reminding me he wasn’t someone who simply walked out of a space. He consumed it. Dominated it. Branded it.

Branded me.

I didn’t want to admit that part—not even to myself—but I felt the truth like a pulse beneath my skin. Something in me had reacted to him, especially when he’d said I was his.

No.

No, he couldn’t be right.

I shook the thought off violently and pushed myself away from the wall. My fingers trembled as they brushed the spot his hand had hovered beside my head, still warm from his proximity.

I needed air.

I needed distance.

I needed to breathe without the memory of him suffocating every inhale.

Turning, I pushed open the heavy doors and stepped into the corridor. It was empty and quiet, lined with tall windows spilling silver moonlight across the stone floors. For the first time since arriving in this palace, everything felt too big—too sharp—like the world was suddenly dangerous in ways I hadn’t understood until now.

The guards who’d chased me earlier were nowhere in sight. Good. I wasn’t ready to face their suspicious looks or whispered theories.

But as I began to walk, a prickling sensation ran up my spine—like eyes were following me.

I wasn’t alone.

I slowed and glanced around. Nothing. The corridor was still empty.

So why did it feel like something was watching me from behind the walls?

I swallowed hard and kept walking, picking up my pace. The sensation grew sharper, colder—like invisible claws brushing the back of my neck.

A few more steps, and then—

“What are you?”

The whisper came from behind me.

I spun around instantly, heart slamming against my ribs.

A girl stood near the shadows—no, not a girl. A wolf. A young she-wolf in partial shift, claws half-formed, eyes glowing faint amber. Her posture was stiff, defensive, nostrils flaring as she sniffed the air.

“I— I’m no one,” I stammered.

She took a step forward, lips curling slightly.

“That’s a lie.”

I backed away. “Please, I don’t want trouble—”

“You already brought it,” she hissed. “The King is pacing. His wolf is restless. The entire palace felt his shift in mood. We felt you.”

My heartbeat faltered.

“Me?”

“You’re triggering him,” she said, voice trembling with something like fear—or awe. “Wolves don’t react like that unless…” She swallowed. “Unless a bond is involved.”

My skin went cold.

No. No, no, no.

“He’s wrong,” I whispered. “Whatever he thinks—whatever any of you think—I’m not connected to him.”

The she-wolf stepped closer, studying me. Her nose twitched as she inhaled carefully.

Then her eyes widened.

“You smell… strange.”

I froze.

“Not bad,” she added quickly, stepping back. “That’s not what I mean. Your scent is—” She frowned deeply. “It’s layered. Not wolf. Not witch. Definitely not human.”

A chill spread through me.

“What are you talking about?” I demanded. “I’m human!”

Her expression softened with pity. “Humans don’t smell like this. Your blood… it’s loud. Ancient. My wolf keeps—” She shook her head, struggling for the right word. “Keeps bowing.”

“Bowing?”

She nodded, teeth worrying her bottom lip. “Whatever you are… you outrank us.”

My breath hitched in my throat.

“I don’t outrank anyone,” I whispered. “I’m barely surviving here.”

“That’s the strange part,” she said. “Wolves like me shouldn’t feel pulled to lower our gaze around someone who isn’t even shifting.”

Her amber eyes softened. “I’m not your enemy. But you need to be careful. This palace is… hungry.”

I blinked. “Hungry?”

“For power,” she whispered. “For bloodlines. For secrets.”

My stomach twisted.

She looked over her shoulder suddenly, as if hearing something. “I shouldn’t be talking to you. If the King—”

“The King what?” a deep voice cut in.

We both froze.

He appeared at the end of the corridor like a shadow made solid—tall, broad, predatory, eyes glowing faintly gold. One look from him made the she-wolf flinch and step back instantly.

“Your Majesty,” she whispered, bowing her head.

His gaze didn’t leave me.

Not for a second.

“You may leave,” he said to her—calm, but carrying a warning beneath it.

She obeyed immediately, practically running in the opposite direction.

He watched her go, then slowly turned his full attention to me.

The hallway felt too narrow suddenly. Too quiet. Too intimate. As if it had been built solely to trap the air between us.

“You left the throne room,” he said.

I lifted my chin. “You walked out first.”

His jaw ticked. “I needed distance.”

“From me?” I scoffed, trying to sound braver than I felt. “I thought you were the one who knew everything. Who controlled everything.”

He stepped toward me. “I don’t lose control.”

Another step. My back hit the wall.

“Except,” he murmured, voice lowering, “when it comes to you.”

I swallowed hard, my throat drying instantly.

He was close enough now that I felt his heat—felt the way his energy wrapped around me like a second, heavier atmosphere.

“Why are you here?” he asked softly. “Alone. Walking the halls where anything powerful enough could smell you.”

“I needed air,” I whispered.

“So you wandered,” he said, leaning one hand against the wall near my head.

“I didn’t wander,” I lied. “I walked.”

His lips twitched. “Don’t challenge me right now.”

His other hand came up, not touching me, but bracketing the other side of my head. I was trapped again—caged between his arms but untouched.

For now.

“What did she tell you?” he asked.

“She… just asked who I was.”

His eyes darkened. “And what did you say?”

“That I’m no one.”

His jaw clenched, eyes flickering gold.

“You are not ‘no one.’ Speak that nonsense again, and I’ll—”

He cut himself off, breathing hard.

I blinked. “You’ll what?”

His voice dropped to a whisper.

“Lose the last thread of control I have left.”

My breath shook.

This man—this King—had fought wars, commanded armies, crushed rebellions, held kingdoms under his feet. And yet the idea of losing control around me made something in his chest tremble.

He dragged in a deep breath, pulling himself back slightly.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone,” he said. “The palace is full of wolves loyal to the crown—but not loyal to you.”

“I don’t want them loyal to me.”

“They don’t get to choose,” he snapped. “Your scent demands attention. Submission.”

“Submission?” I repeated. “What am I, some kind of—”

“Yes.” His voice was sharp. Firm. Final. “Something that was never meant to exist.”

The hallway spun slightly.

“What am I?” I whispered.

He looked at me slowly, eyes searching my face—not with suspicion, but with something like conflict. Like he wanted to tell me. Needed to tell me. But feared what it would do to both of us.

Finally, he exhaled roughly.

“There is a bloodline,” he said. “Old. Feared. Revered. Extinct for centuries. A lineage that could command any creature—wolf, witch, fae—with nothing but their presence.”

My heartbeat throbbed painfully.

“And you think I’m part of it?”

“I don’t think,” he murmured. “I know.”

“No,” I said immediately. “You’re wrong.”

“I never smell wrong.” He leaned closer, lips near my ear. “Your blood wakes my wolf. Your presence stirs instincts in every creature around you. And you—” His voice softened. “You don’t even know how to shield your aura yet.”

“My aura?” I whispered.

“Yes,” he breathed. “The one you’re leaking without realizing it.”

His hand lifted, hovering near my cheek. Not touching. Just close enough that the air between us charged like lightning.

“If any wolf besides me had found you first…” His voice turned lethal. “You’d already be claimed.”

My breath caught.

“But I found you,” he whispered.

A shiver rolled down my spine.

“And I won’t let you be taken.”

His eyes lowered to my lips again.

My chest rose and fell too fast.

His breath brushed my mouth.

Then—almost violently—he pulled back, raking a hand through his hair.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath. “I need to get you out of the open.”

He grabbed my wrist—not harshly, but firmly enough to send another bolt of heat through my arm—and began pulling me down the hallway.

“Wait—where are we going?” I protested.

“To a safer part of the palace,” he snapped. “Somewhere you can’t be sniffed out like prey.”

“I’m not prey!”

“You are,” he growled. “To everything that walks these halls.”

“And what about you?” I demanded. “Am I prey to you too?”

He stopped walking.

Stopped so suddenly I stumbled into his back.

He turned slowly, his expression unreadable, intense.

“You,” he said quietly, “are something else entirely to me.”

My pulse thudded in my throat.

“And until I understand why…” he continued, eyes flickering gold, “you’re not leaving my sight.”

My breath hitched. “So I am a prisoner.”

He stepped closer, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear with a touch so gentle it made my knees weaken.

“No,” he whispered.

“You’re protected.”

“By you?” I breathed.

“By me,” he confirmed. “And until I know what you are—until I know how dangerous you’ll become—you won’t take a single step in this palace without me knowing.”

My chest tightened. “Why does my danger matter to you?”

His voice dropped, rough and low.

“Because if you turn out to be the thing I think you are… you’re not just dangerous to the kingdom.”

He leaned in.

“You’re dangerous to me.”