Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 63709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
It was her name.
Rose.
My fated mate.
My queen.
TEN
Rose
My limbs are heavy, tingling. There’s a raw ache between my legs, and I feel drunk. How long have we slept? It feels like years. The huge Alpha behind me is holding me tightly, one massive arm slung over my hip, his breath hot on my shoulder. Is he still asleep? I turn my head to check.
“Look away,” he growls, and I obey instantly.
How does he have this effect on me? I scowl at the wall.
“Forgive me, Rose,” he says at length. “I should not be so harsh.”
I try to stiffen but I’m too relaxed. He fucked the stress out of me. Which is another conundrum—why was I so stressed in the first place? “I don't know what’s happening to me,” I mutter.
“You are in estrus, Omega. The records describe it as being overwhelming, especially the first time.”
I huff. I wish he wouldn’t keep insisting. “I’m not an Omega.”
He plays with my curls. I should pull away, but his touch makes me shiver. “If you are not an Omega, why do you take my cock so well?”
I suck in a breath as my clit gives a slow, languorous thump. I’ve just been fucked to within an inch of my life, and already I want more. “Don’t start again.”
“Why not?”
I wrench myself out of his embrace and wriggle away.
“Where are you going?”
“I need a shower.”
“Later.” He pulls me back into his arms and gives the back of my neck a lingering lick. “I enjoy you covered in my scent.”
“I don’t.” It’s a lie. I love his scent. I want to lick him back.
Ugh.
I squirm away again and slide off the bed. Wobbling on strained thighs, I wrap my dress around me, doing my best to get the fabric to drape the way Rogue got it to before. No point in looking for my underwear. He tore it off with his claws.
God, if anyone had told me I’d be even thinking any of this shit just six months ago—let alone experiencing it—I would have suggested they get a mental health evaluation.
“Omega,” the king murmurs, and starts to purr.
I shake my head, but don’t deny it aloud. I want to argue with him, but I’m too busy fighting myself. The formerly perfect bed I spent so much time and effort on is a mess, and must be put to rights.
I pick up a pillow and hum in satisfaction. It’s redolent with both my and the king’s combined scents.
“What are you doing, my little moonflower?”
“Nothing.” I prop more cushions on the bed around the giant shadowy form. “I can hardly see in here. Can you turn on the lights?”
“No.”
I drop my remaining pillows. “Why not?” The bed is a huge pool of darkness. Today his cedar scent is sweetened with a touch of honey.
The giant on the bed rises to a sitting position. I can make out that much in the gloom. “It is my will.”
I have an insane desire to throw a cushion at him. “Your will.”
“Yes.”
“Fuck your will.” I fold my arms across my chest. “I don’t even know your name.”
“Is that why you are upset?” The rumbling in his chest increases, instantly soothing me. Which is annoying. “You may call me Bestian.”
“Oh, thank you, Your Majesty. Do you keep all your subjects in the dark, like mushrooms, or am I just lucky?”
“I do not allow anyone to see me, Rose. And none of my subjects can pass the magical barrier I’ve conjured around my castle. You should not have been able to penetrate it so easily.”
“That’s what she said,” I reply automatically, but my brain is scrambling. Magical barrier?
“Come, now. A truce.” The orbs in the corners of the room begin to glow just a little. The king stretches back out on the bed, his hood still hiding his face.
I want to go to him, so I make myself take a step back, and step on a cushion. It seems like all the decorative pillows got tossed around during our fuck fest. I gather the remaining ones into my arms and start arranging them on the bed.
The king is silent for a while, watching me work. Then, “Why do you believe you are not an Omega?”
“Because I’m not. I’m human.”
“What is a hew-man?”
“I’m from another planet. I don’t know why I’m here.” I fuss with a fluffy pink cushion until it’s just right.
What am I doing? I should be packing up, leaving, but I can’t until this room is set to rights. It’s a compulsion.
“Shall I summon the whisps to help?” Bestian asks.
“No,” I growl, karate-chopping a pillow the way I’ve seen decorators do on HGTV. “I want to do it myself.”
“Why? What are you doing, little Rose?”
“I’m not little.” I smoosh two pillows together. I need the combination of our scents to be balanced perfectly. “I’m fixing what needs to be fixed.”