Chosen By The Cursed Alpha King Chapter 198

ADELE'S POV

The bedroom was warm and quiet, the only light coming from the soft glow of the lamps and the moonlight slipping through the curtains.

I stood in front of the full-length mirror, smoothing down the deep emerald gown that hugged my body like it was made for me. I felt beautiful—powerful, even—but nervous butterflies still danced in my stomach. Tonight was Emilia's first ball as queen. Everything had to be perfect.

Strong hands settled on my shoulders from behind, warm and familiar. Lucien's reflection appeared over my shoulder, tall and devastating in his black tux. The suit fit him like a second skin, accentuating his broad chest, narrow waist, and those powerful legs. His dark hair was tamed just enough to look polished, but a few strands still fell rebelliously over his forehead. He looked dangerous. Gorgeous. Mine.

He slid the zipper up my back slowly, deliberately, his knuckles brushing my bare skin the whole way. When it reached the top, he didn't let go. Instead, he dipped his head and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the curve of my shoulder.

I shivered.

He turned me around gently, hands settling on my waist, eyes roaming over me like he couldn't get enough. "You look absolutely beautiful," he said, voice low and rough, like the words were dragged out of him.

Heat rushed to my cheeks. I let my gaze travel over him—slowly, appreciatively. "You don't look bad yourself," I murmured, reaching up to adjust the button on his jacket. My fingers lingered on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart.

He caught my wrist, bringing it to his lips for a quick kiss before leaning down. His mouth found the sensitive spot just below my ear, lips grazing my neck in a way that made my breath hitch.

"Lucien…" I whispered, half warning, half plea.

His hand slid lower, slipping under the slit of my dress, fingers tracing up the inside of my thigh. My pulse spiked.

"What are you doing?" I asked, voice already breathy.

He smirked against my skin, that wicked, sexy curve of his lips that always undid me. "Just taking something for myself."

His fingers hooked into the thin strap of my thong and tugged—slowly, teasingly—pulling the lace down my thighs inch by inch. The fabric whispered against my skin, and every second felt like torture. I stepped out of them when they pooled at my feet, cheeks burning.

He straightened, sliding the black lace into his pocket with a possessive grin. "I'm keeping these."

"You're crazy," I said, but it came out soft, almost fond.

His eyes darkened. "Crazy about you."

He took my hand, lacing our fingers, and led me out of the room. Every few steps down the hallway, he stole a glance—hungry, intense, like he was already imagining peeling the dress off me later. My skin tingled under his gaze, the secret knowledge that I was bare underneath making me hyper-aware of every brush of fabric, every shift of my thighs.

We reached the grand entrance to the ballroom. Music drifted out—soft strings and laughter, the clink of glasses. Fairy lights twinkled overhead, reflecting off crystal chandeliers. The hall looked magical, exactly as we'd planned.

Lucien pulled me to a stop just outside the doors. "I need to check with the security team one last time," he said, voice low. "Make sure everything's perfect."

I nodded, but before I could answer, he cupped my face and kissed me—deep, passionate, claiming. His tongue slid against mine, stealing my breath, reminding me exactly who I belonged to. When he pulled back, my lips were swollen and I was dizzy.

"I'll be right back," he promised, thumb brushing my bottom lip.

"Okay," I managed, watching him disappear down a side corridor. Goddess, that man. Even his walk was sexy—confident, powerful, like he owned every room he entered.

I took a deep breath and stepped into the ballroom.

It was already alive with people—alphas and lunas in formal gowns and sharp suits, ranked members laughing in clusters, servants weaving through with trays of champagne. Emilia and the king stood near the entrance, welcoming guests with warm smiles. Emilia looked radiant in silver, her small bump just visible under the flowing fabric.

I grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing tray, needing something to steady my nerves. The bubbles tickled my tongue as I sipped, scanning the room for familiar faces.

Then I felt it.

Eyes on me.

Not the casual glances of a crowded party. This was heavier. Intent. Like someone was staring hard enough to burn holes through my dress.

I turned, searching the crowd, but no one stood out. Just smiling faces, swirling gowns, polite conversation. I shook it off. It's a room full of werewolves—everyone's senses are sharp. Someone probably just noticed the new dress.

I took another sip.

"You look absolutely gorgeous tonight."

The voice came from right beside me…smooth, warm, a little too close. I turned and found Alpha Derek standing there, champagne in hand, smiling down at me. He looked good—brown hair neatly styled, suit perfectly tailored—but something about the way his eyes lingered made my skin prickle.

"Thank you," I said politely, forcing a smile. "My mate wouldn't stop telling me that."

Something flashed in Derek's eyes…quick, dark—but it was gone before I could name it. He leaned in just a fraction, voice dropping. "Save a dance for me later?"

The request caught me off guard. I blinked, suddenly aware of how close he was, how the room felt a little smaller. "Uh… I will," I said, not wanting to cause a scene.

He straightened, that easy smile back in place. "Good. I'll hold you to it."

Then he walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

I exhaled slowly, trying to shake the strange feeling crawling up my spine. It was nothing. Just a harmless compliment. A dance request. This was a ball—people danced with everyone.

But I couldn't shake it.

I scanned the room again, looking for Lucien. He wasn't back yet.

And that heavy stare?

It was still there.

Like someone was watching.

Waiting.