Alpha's STOLEN Mate Chapter 136

Elowen

Kaius watches me with those dead eyes, his expression suggesting he finds my breakdown mildly interesting. Nothing more. Like watching an insect struggle.

"And YOU!" I snarl, pointing at him with a shaking hand. "I should have known! This is who you really are, isn't it? This monster—this is the truth! A complete and utter *fool*! A pathetic excuse for a King! A coward hiding behind someone else's power—"

His hand shoots through the bars again, closing around my throat.

This time he lifts me completely off the floor, my body dangling as my vision starts to spot.

"I warned you," he says, and there's something almost bored in his tone. "I don't care about your pathetic tantrums. Your little displays of defiance." His grip tightens. "But I *prefer* you obedient. Compliant. Broken." His eyes gleam. "And right now, I'm going to teach you exactly what obedience looks like."

Cold dread floods through me.

"No—" I try to push his hand away, but my strength is nothing compared to his.

He reaches for the cage door with his free hand. The lock clicks open with a sound like breaking bones.

Then he throws me.

I fly through the air, hitting the wall with enough force to drive all the air from my lungs. Pain explodes through my back, my shoulders, my skull. For a moment, everything goes white.

When my vision clears, I'm gasping on the floor, my body screaming in agony.

But at least I can breathe.

I gulp down air, my hands pressing against the floor as I try to orient myself. *Move. Run. Get away—*

But he's already there.

Impossibly fast—faster than my eyes can track—Kaius pins both my wrists above my head against the wall with one massive hand, his strength absolute, contemptuous. His massive form looms over me, blocking out everything else, trapping me in the cage of his shadow and the scent of his corrupted power. This close, I can see every horrifying detail of his monstrous features. The way his jaw is just slightly too long, stretching his familiar face into something alien. The unnatural red gleam deep within his eyes. The sharp, impossibly long teeth, stained faintly red at the tips, that could tear me apart without effort.

Terror, cold and sharp, claws its way up my spine, paralyzing me more effectively than his grip.

"Fuck—!" The word dies as his free hand moves slowly, deliberately, towards my torn shirt.

Instead of a quick rip, his claws—long, black, wickedly curved—hook into the frayed edge of the fabric near my collarbone. He doesn't pull immediately. He lets the points prick against my skin, a hair's breadth from drawing blood, a silent, terrifying promise of the violence he's capable of. I flinch, every nerve screaming.

"No! Stop it!" My legs kick out, finding only empty air. My wrists twist uselessly against the crushing weight of his hold. "Don't—"

He seems to savor my struggle. A low, guttural rumble—not a purr of amusement, but the vibrating growl of a predator cornering its prey—resonates through his chest and into the wall behind me. "Now then," he says, the sound distorted by his elongated muzzle, thick with a dark, terrifying satisfaction. "Can you be good for me?"

I nod frantically, tears of shame and terror blurring my vision. "Yes! Yes, I'll—I'll be quiet! I'll—"

He laughs. A harsh, barking sound utterly devoid of warmth. Then his other hand moves to finish what he started.

He doesn't just tear the fabric. He gathers the remnants of my shirt in his fist, his knuckles pressing cruelly against my bruised ribs, and then yanks downward with brutal force. The remaining seams shred with a sound like screaming. Cool air hits my exposed stomach, my breasts, and a fresh wave of panic surges through me. He holds the tattered cloth for a moment, letting his gaze travel slowly over my exposed skin, his red eyes lingering on the bruises and claw marks from earlier, as if cataloging his own handiwork.

I'm left shivering, exposed from the waist up, vulnerable in a way that feels worse than any physical pain. The sheer humiliation washes over me, cold and suffocating.

His clawed finger traces along my shoulder—along the mate mark he gave me. That permanent scar that was supposed to mean forever. Meant to symbolize our bond, our connection, our—

"Such a pretty mark," he muses, his tone almost conversational, but underscored with a chilling emptiness. "What a lovely memorial. A symbol of everything we were supposed to be." His claw presses down, the point digging cruelly right into the center of it. "Too bad... I hate it."

He drags the claw down. Slowly. Deliberately. Carving a new line directly through the old one.

Fresh blood wells up, hot and immediate against my cold skin. The pain is sharp, focused, a violation designed not just to hurt, but to defile, to mark over, to destroy the one symbol that should have been sacred between us.

I scream. A raw, broken sound torn from the depths of my soul.

The humiliation of it—being stripped, being held helpless, having him desecrate the mark—it's too much. The fear that's been keeping me frozen suddenly inverts into pure rage.

*Fuck this. Fuck him. Fuck everything.*

I lunge forward, my teeth finding the side of his neck.

I bite down as hard as I can.

Kaius doesn't stop me. Doesn't even try. He just stands there, holding me against the wall, letting me savage his throat like it means nothing. Like I'm a kitten attacking a wolf.

The taste of blood fills my mouth—his blood—but he doesn't flinch.

So I bite harder. Deeper. I feel my teeth break through skin, through muscle, searching for something vital. For the jugular. For *anything* that will hurt him the way he's hurting me.

Finally—*finally*—I feel him react. A low growl of actual pain.

He tears me away from his neck, his hand wrapping around my entire torso as he *throws* me across the room.

My back hits the floor. Something cracks—not bone, thank god, but the impact drives all the air from my lungs again. Pain radiates outward in waves, each breath a sharp agony.

"Bitch!" Kaius snarls, his hand going to his neck. Blood runs between his fingers—more than I expected. More than he expected, judging by his expression. "You fucking—"

Through the pain, through the fear, I feel a savage satisfaction. *I hurt him. I actually hurt him.*

But then I see his face twist. Those red eyes go from annoyed to enraged.

"Looks like the body you'll have for tomorrow's transformation won't be in one piece after all," he growls, advancing on me. Each step deliberate. Predatory. "Morgath wanted you intact. But you know what? I think she'll forgive me this one indulgence."

I try to move, to crawl away, but my body won't cooperate. Everything hurts too much.

He looms over me, claws extended, lips pulled back from those terrible teeth. His hand raises, claws gleaming in the sterile light, positioning right over my chest. Over my heart.

*This is it. He's going to kill me.*

But instead of fear, all I feel is defiant rage. *Do it, you coward. At least I'll die myself.*

His claws descend—

"Kaius."

Morgath's voice echoes through the room, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. Calm. Almost amused. But with an edge of command that's impossible to ignore.

"Don't play too rough with your toy," she continues, and I can hear the smile in her words. "I only asked you to deliver food. Not to indulge your... creative urges. We have plans for her tomorrow, remember?"

Kaius freezes, his claws mere inches from my heart.

For a long moment, he doesn't move. Doesn't breathe. Just stands there, suspended between obedience and violence.

Then that twisted smile crosses his monstrous features—not directed at me, but at something private. Some joke only he understands.

"Of course, my lady," he says to the empty air. "How thoughtless of me."

Then he straightens, stepping back from my broken body without a second glance. Like I'm nothing. Less than nothing.