Alpha's STOLEN Mate Chapter 83

Kaius

After Elowen disappeared through her lightning rift, the chaos outside gradually subsided. The flames were extinguished, the smoke cleared, and soon enough, the guards came flooding back into the dungeon.

They approached my cell cautiously, weapons drawn, clearly suspicious about the convenient fire that had erupted during their watch. Several of them circled me, examining the bars, checking for signs of tampering or escape attempts.

I remained sitting exactly where Elowen had left me, my expression carefully neutral despite the pain radiating through my body.

After a thorough inspection revealed nothing out of place, they exchanged confused glances and eventually retreated to their posts, muttering about false alarms and coincidental timing.

*If only they knew.*

The wounds from the wolfsbane whips continued to burn with that distinctive silver-poisoned ache. Every breath felt like knives dragging across my ribs. Part of me wanted to let Elowen heal me—I'd felt her desperation, her need to fix what the Elders had broken.

But I couldn't. Not yet.

I dragged myself onto the narrow iron bed that served as the cell's only furniture. The metal was cold against my bare back, making the wounds sting worse.

I tried to sleep, to gather what strength I could for what was coming. But pain has a way of making rest impossible. I shifted positions—left side, right side, back again—but every movement sent fresh waves of agony through my body.

*Focus. Conserve energy. Heal what you can.*

I was still tossing restlessly when a voice cut through the darkness.

"Oh, my poor Alpha King. What a lonely wolf you are. Do you need some company?"

I didn't even need to open my eyes to know who it was. That honeyed voice, dripping with false sympathy and barely concealed hunger—Rowan.

I turned away from the cell bars, facing the stone wall. "Go away."

But I heard the click of the lock, the creak of the door opening. She'd come inside.

I finally turned to look at her, and immediately wished I hadn't.

She’d changed since the trial. Her outfit was a masterpiece of provocation, designed to incite pure lust. It was a single piece of sheer, black silk that clung to her curves like a second skin, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. The fabric was so thin I could see the hard points of her nipples and the dark shadow between her legs. The garment was held together by a few strategically placed dark jewels, with her thighs and hips almost entirely exposed. It wasn't just clothing; it was a blatant invitation.

"Even dressed like that, you can't hide the truth," I said coldly. "Your skin is fake. Your youth is fake. Did you really think your glamour magic could fool me about your real age?"

Rowan's smile never wavered as she glided closer, settling herself on the edge of my bed. She didn't just sit; she arranged her body with practiced seduction, parting her legs slightly so the sheer fabric between them tightened, offering an explicit view.

"Age is just a number, darling. What matters is the *experience.*" Her hand reached out, fingers trailing across my chest with deliberate slowness. "Right now, I can help you. Whether I'm twenty years old or two hundred—what difference does it make?"

I shoved her hand away with disgust. "I'm not interested."

"Really?" She laughed, the sound like wind chimes made of bones. "That's true—you have a young, tight body to play with whenever you want. I understand why you'd reject mine." Her expression shifted to something more calculating. "But your mate can only help you *escape* this dungeon. Whereas I..." She leaned closer, her breath hot against my ear. "I can help you leave *and* secure your throne permanently."

Ice shot through my veins. *Fuck. She knows Elowen was here?*

Rowan caught the flicker of concern in my eyes and smiled wider. "Sometimes, becoming a true king requires the harshest trials. Right now, you're simply enduring the most poisonous test of all."

Her hands returned to my body, moving across my wounds with strange purpose. And then—impossibly—the pain began to fade. The burning ache from the wolfsbane dulled to nothing. Even the deep, throbbing agony in my ribs seemed to evaporate under her touch, replaced by an almost pleasant warmth.

I jerked away from her immediately, my mind racing. "What the fuck kind of magic are you using? You're creating an illusion of healing, aren't you? Making me *think* the pain is gone?" I backed against the wall, putting distance between us. "There's no way you can actually heal wolfsbane wounds with just a touch!"

Rowan's delighted laughter filled the cell. "Does it matter whether it's real or illusion? If you don't feel pain, why should you care about the mechanism?"

Fury exploded in my chest. I climbed off the bed, putting the narrow furniture between us like a barrier. "I don't give a fuck what game you're playing! Get out! The Elders scheduled my execution for three days from now. You don't need to rush."

But Rowan stood as well, moving around the bed with serpentine grace. Her arms wrapped around my torso from behind, her body pressing against my back as she whispered, "What if I told you... I hate Silas too?"

The words hit me like a physical blow. *What?*

Before I could process that revelation, she continued, her voice dropping to something intimate and dangerous. "What if I told you that if you agree to one small condition, I could make you a true king? No more dungeons. No more running. No more rejection from your mate." Her lips brushed against my shoulder blade. "And I'll even share the masked witch's secrets with you."

My heart hammered against my ribs. *How the fuck does she know so much? Is she using her aura on me right now, reading my thoughts? Or—fuck—is she connected to the masked witch somehow?*

Rowan slipped around to face me, pressing her entire body against mine with deliberate provocation. Her hips ground against me in a slow, unmistakable rhythm. "Don't worry," she purred. "I'm not using my aura on you right now. Especially not for this." Her hand drifted lower, fingers trailing across the taut muscles of my abdomen before moving with undeniable intent towards the waistband of my trousers. "When it comes to physical pleasure, I prefer my partners to be completely present. Fully engaged. I want you to feel every single thing I do to you."

Revulsion twisted my stomach. I grabbed her wandering hand, my grip hard enough to make bones grind together, considering crushing it entirely.

But she didn't flinch. Instead, she smiled through the pain, her eyes glittering with dark amusement. "Don't you want to hear my condition first?"

"No!" I snarled, though I loosened my grip slightly. "I'm not making deals with you! You're no different from Silas! I don't trust him, and I sure as hell don't trust a desperate, starving whore like you!"

Something cold flashed in Rowan's eyes. The seductive mask slipped for just a moment, revealing the ancient, calculating predator beneath. "You know I could use my aura to make you kneel before me right now. I could make you *service* me in ways that would make your precious mate lose her mind with jealousy."

My scalp prickled with genuine fear. The threat wasn't empty—I'd felt the power of her mental magic during the trial. In my weakened state, I might not be able to resist if she really wanted to dominate me.

I forced my hand to release hers, though every instinct screamed at me to snap her neck. "Use my body however you want," I said, my voice arctic. "But while I'm conscious, you'll always be nothing but an ancient hag in my eyes. And the second I have the strength, I'll tear out your throat and cut off your head—along with Silas's. I'll mount them both on the highest tower of this castle." I stepped closer, using my height advantage to loom over her. "As for how you know so much about my business? I'll figure that out too."

Rowan's expression darkened, the seductive pretense dropping completely. "Will you even be alive to investigate? Last chance, Kaius. Agree to my condition, and I'll truly help you. Not just empty promises—real power."

"Get out," I growled. "Whatever your condition is, I don't want to hear it. I'm not making bargains with you. And soon enough, you'll be dead by my claws."