Chapter 36 The Only Cure I Want
Adrian’s POV
Sex would’ve worked faster.
Sex would’ve worked better.
Whiskey dulls the blade. Sex sheaths it.
There’s a reason every tyrant in my bloodline kept alcohol within arm’s reach around their personal spaces in the palace. My grandfather had a full room with different collections from across the world.
My father tried to be an honorable man…tried to tame his wolf. And it almost worked…until my mother died, and everyone paid for it in blood.
I don’t want to live the rest of my life with a room filled with bottles. And I don’t want to tame my wolf either.
I want only one cure.
Sex.
I want one throat under my mouth, one pulse racing against my tongue, one body that could take everything I had to give and still beg for more instead of break. Someone who could look at the monster and spread her legs anyway, not because she had to, but because she understood that the same teeth that ripped out hearts could make her come so hard she forgot her own name.
That kind of sex isn’t just pleasure.
It’s an exorcism.
When I’m buried to the hilt in a woman who isn’t afraid of me, when her nails score my back and her pussy clamps down like she’s trying to milk the rage straight out of my soul, Derek will go quiet.
Not drugged, not caged…sated. He would curl up in the dark like a tired, well-fed beast instead of a starving one, and for a few hours the world won’t be painted red.
And the only woman who can take all that…is my mate.
One thought of Abby beneath me, legs wrapped around my waist, screaming my name, and Derek was already rolling over like a needy pup.
The image flashed uninvited…her pale throat arched, my teeth sinking in, marking her while I buried myself so deep she forgot every name but mine.
My cock hardened instantly. Derek surged again, panting, drooling, whining about heat cycles and breeding and how long until she’s ready, how many nights he’ll keep her knotted and screaming.
“Get the fuck back, Derek,” I snarled aloud, voice distorted, half-human, half-beast.
I downed another burning gulp. The bottle was half-empty now.
Silence again.
Good.
I rolled my shoulders, cracked my neck, and let the rage settle into something colder. Sharper. Deadlier.
Margaret’s behavior earlier gnawed at me. The way she’d tried to shut Levi up. The panic in her eyes when he mentioned a mate.
Did she really think I was still the same reckless bastard who’d fuck anything with a pulse? That I’d steal Levi’s mate just to prove I could? That was all in the past. Before I felt my mate.
Everything I am…my body, my desire…belongs to one woman now. I know I’m late learning how to stop being a damn man-whore, but I mean it. I’d sooner cut the damn thing off than let it near anyone but her.
I couldn’t wait to hear Levi’s big revelation. Couldn’t wait to watch his face when his little plan detonated in it.
And Ariston, showing up two days early with an army? Thomas had been right.
Someone inside the palace must have been feeding him information. Margaret? Levi? Both? The timing was too perfect to be a coincidence.
Their hypocrisy made my skin crawl. They treated Abby like garbage for years when she was under their care, then marched in here pretending to care, all for some power grab.
I wanted blood for every tear she’d ever cried because of them.
Because of me.
I clenched the glass so tight that it shattered in my hand. Shards sliced my palm, blood dripping onto the rug.
I smirked, cold and lethal, and sent the mind-link slicing through my servants like a blade.
“Get her ready. Now.”
Since my darling in-laws traveled all this way to see their precious princess…
Since Margaret and Levi were so desperate to lay eyes on the queen…
I’d let them see the queen.
I stepped into the ensuite, attached to my study, yanked off the ruined shirt, and threw a handful of ice-cold water across my face.
I changed quickly. I wasn’t putting on those damn royal robes today. They didn’t deserve the honor.
Plain white shirt, half-unbuttoned, sleeves rolled high. Loose gray slacks that hung low on my hips. I ruffled my hair with wet fingers until it fell wild, put on the royal ring (black iron and wolf bone), and looked in the mirror.
The monster stared back. Calm. Controlled. Smiling.
Perfect.
Thomas’s voice slid into my mind, crisp and formal.
“It’s time, Your Majesty. She’s ready.”
I left the study without looking back.
Time to play with the family.
I rounded the corner at a fast clip, boots silent now, predator on the hunt, and someone slammed into me hard enough to jolt my bones.
A scent hit me like a warhammer and I grunted in anger.
I knew that perfume before I even looked down.
Cheap strawberry and desperation.
Caroline.
She crashed into my chest on purpose, I felt the way she timed it, then stumbled back with a little gasp like it was an accident. Her hands flew to my bare forearms, nails digging in.
“Your Majesty,” she breathed, eyes already half-lidded, lips wet. “I was just looking for you.”
I looked at her and felt my stomach turn.
The dress was blood-red silk, cut down to her navel in front and slit up to the top of her thigh in the back. Every time she moved the fabric parted and showed skin nobody asked to see. She’d painted her mouth the same red, curled her hair into perfect waves, and sprayed herself with so much perfume I could taste it.
She looked like she’d spent three hours making herself a meal.
Too bad the only thing I felt was disgust.
She stepped closer, pressing her tits against my ribs. “I know I already gave you a son,” she purred, twirling a strand of hair around her finger, “but I’m still so tight, your majesty. I want you to ruin me again. Right here if you want.”
I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw popped.
She smiled like that was encouragement and let her fancy little hair clip “slip” from her fingers. It clattered to the marble.
“Oh no,” she whispered, then turned and bent over slow, ass in the air, dress sliding up until the slit showed everything. She wiggled, grinding that fake round ass straight against my cock like she had any right to touch me.
Derek roared so loud inside that my vision went red. He surged forward in rage, teeth ripping through my gums, claws punching out.
And every ounce of control I’d just fought for shattered in a single heartbeat.
I grabbed her by the back of the neck, spun her around, and slammed her spine-first into the wall. My hand closed around her throat before she could squeak.
Her eyes went wide, then glassy with sick excitement.
“Yes,” she rasped, trying to rock her hips into me.
“Choke me, your majesty. Fuck my throat raw like you used to—”
I squeezed.
Not playful. Not sexy. Hard.
Her painted lips parted, no sound coming out. Veins bulged in her neck. Her face turned purple.
I leaned in until our noses almost touched.
“If I hadn’t just emptied a whole bottle of Blackthorn,” I said, voice low and ugly, “you’d already be dead on this floor right now for daring to put your hands on someone else’s man.”
Her eyes filled with tears. Real ones this time.
I tightened my grip, tilting my head, feeling the thrill crawl up my spine as her pulse hammered against my fingers like a trapped bird.
“You feel that?” I whispered. “That’s how fast I could end you. I warned you never to set foot in this palace again, Caroline. Yet here you are, shaking your dried-up ass, trying to ruin the only good thing I’ve ever had.”
Her knees buckled. Her hands scrabbled at my wrist, nails breaking nails on my skin. Red streaks ran in her eyes. Her tongue started to swell.
I smiled with delight at the feel of her life slipping out of my hands.
Then a voice floated down the corridor, soft, a little nervous, calling my name.
My entire body locked.
Every cell lit up like someone poured fire in my blood.
I turned my head toward the direction the voice drifted from.
“Kira,” I breathed softly.
Caroline went limp in my grip, forgotten.
My mate is here. Kira is here.