Chosen By The Cursed Alpha King Chapter 26

She stayed on her knees, head tilted just enough for me to catch that glint in her eye. That dangerous, smug glint.

My entire body went taut. Every instinct screamed to grab her, shove her against the tile, and make her pay for that tone. But I didn't move—yet.

Instead, I watched.

She didn't wait for an answer. Her hand came up, fingers curling lightly around my shaft, and I sucked in a sharp breath through my teeth. The contact was light at first, just enough to remind me she was touching me... and enough to make my cock twitch in her grip.

Her smirk deepened.

The sponge in her other hand followed, sliding lazily down my length, slow enough to be infuriating. She pretended to focus, like she was polishing something precious, her brows drawn in mock concentration.

Goddess.

Every few seconds, she'd squeeze—just slightly—pretending it was part of the wash. My veins stood out, thick and pulsing, and I could feel my claws itching to break skin as I clenched my fists at my sides.

She worked lower, sliding the sponge underneath, brushing over my balls with deliberate care. That little look of focus didn't fool me—she knew exactly what she was doing. My thighs flexed as I fought to stay rooted in place.

"You're very... tense, Your Majesty," she said, as if she were commenting on the weather.

"Emilia." My voice came out low, warning.

"Yes?" Her eyes lifted just enough to meet mine, her hand still lazily stroking me under the guise of cleaning.

The air in the shower was thick with steam and something far more dangerous. My breathing had deepened, my abs tightening every time her fingers slid under and rolled over the sensitive skin there.

I could feel my eyes threatening to flicker again. My beast pushed forward, wanting—no, demanding—that I take.

But she wasn't done tormenting me.

The way I felt her breath on my length, that couldn't have been an accident. She knew exactly what she was doing.

She switched hands, letting the sponge drop to the side, and used her bare palm instead. She wrapped her fingers fully around me, stroking once, slowly, from base to tip, and then... her thumb pressed over the head, smearing the bead of moisture there like she was testing the texture of forbidden fruit.

A growl ripped from my chest.

"Enough." My voice was rough, dangerous, but she only tilted her head like she didn't hear me right.

"Enough?" she echoed softly, and her thumb circled the tip once more.

My claws slid out fully now, the sharp points pricking my own palms as I fought the urge to take her right here. The scent of my own blood mingled with hers in the humid air, and I knew I was seconds from losing it.

I grabbed her shoulders and yanked her up so fast she gasped, her wet hair whipping against my chest.

Her eyes were wide, innocent... too innocent.

"What's wrong?" she asked, batting those lashes like she hadn't just been seconds away from bringing me to my knees. "I was only serving the king."

I stared at her, my breathing ragged, the muscles in my chest rising and falling hard against hers. Every inch of me screamed to claim her. To make her choke on that smug mouth until she said my name like it was a prayer.

Instead, I forced myself to turn away. If I didn't, there would be no stopping.

"Leave," I said, my voice tight. "You may go."

There was a pause. I could feel her gaze lingering on my back, could practically hear the smirk forming on her lips.

Then her voice came, low and mocking, curling around me like smoke.

"It was such a pleasure serving the king."

I closed my eyes.

I could hear the soft splash of her steps as she left the shower, feel the cool draft she left behind. My cock was still hard, painfully so, my body wound like a bowstring ready to snap.

She was doing this on purpose. And soon... she was going to find out exactly what that cost.

****I laughed—low, wicked, and completely unrepentant—as I reached for the towel.

The steam still clung to my skin, making it warm and slick beneath the soft fabric, but I wasn't laughing because of the water. No, my amusement came from the fact that I'd just left him standing there in that shower, hard, frustrated, and pretending he was in control.

One thing people didn't know about me—hell, one thing they couldn't possibly know because they were too busy whispering insults about my looks or my body—was that when it came to driving a man to the edge, I was an artist. A master. The kind of dangerous woman mothers warned their sons about.

They could call me plain. They could call me ugly. They could say I wasn't fit to share the same room as the other "perfect" girls here. But none of that mattered when I could reduce the almighty King to ragged breathing and clenched fists, and make him say the words, You may go.

He'd thought he was in charge. Thought he could boss me around, throw his authority in my face like it was a crown I should bow to.

But at the end of the day, he'd been the one asking me to leave.

And that? That was a victory.

I stepped out of the bathroom, still naked under the towel. My gown had been shredded by his claws like it was nothing more than tissue paper.

My eyes fell on the thick red robe draped casually over the back of a chair. It was unmistakable. Luxurious fabric. Golden embroidery at the cuffs. The scent of him still clinging to it. The King's robe.

Without a second thought, I let the towel drop to the floor and slid the robe over my shoulders. The robe swallowed me whole, heavy and warm, and the weight of it made me smirk. If this was supposed to be some sacred garment only for the King's royal skin, then too bad—he shouldn't have destroyed mine.

When I opened the door and stepped into the corridor, the two guards stationed nearby turned their heads. Their eyes widened.

Yeah, I knew what they saw.

The King's robe.

On me.

One of them shifted uncomfortably, his gaze darting away like looking too long would get him beheaded. The other just stared a moment longer, lips parting as if he was about to say something—then thought better of it.

Go ahead, tell him, I thought, brushing past them with my chin high. See if I care.

My bare feet made soft slaps as I walked through the hallway, the sound far too loud in the silence. I didn't rush. Let them see me. Let them wonder.

When I reached the door to the quarters, I pushed it open and stepped inside.

Every head turned.

It was becoming a thing now—me walking in and suddenly having all eyes on me. Half curiosity, half judgment, and maybe, in the case of a few, a flicker of envy. I walked straight to my bunk, not even bothering to hide the fact that I was wearing his robe.

"The King's robe," someone whispered, their voice sharp with disbelief.

"Liana's dead," another murmured in response, like it was some kind of code.

I ignored them, sitting on the edge of my bed. The robe pooled around me in a rich red wave. I reached for the simple skirt and top folded at the foot of my bunk and began changing, slipping the robe off only when I had to. The girls kept talking, their voices a buzzing background I had no interest in—until one sentence cut through.

"I heard there's a summit tomorrow," one of them said.

That made my head lift, my eyes narrowing.

"All the Alphas are coming to the palace for a meeting," another chimed in, her tone almost dreamy, as though the idea of seeing so many powerful men in one place was the highlight of her miserable little life.

Someone else sighed. "I wish they'd take me back to my own pack..."

But my mind had stopped listening to them. Because the moment I heard 'summit,' all I saw in my head was a door swinging wide open.

A gateway.

Tomorrow, the palace would be swarming. Alphas, guards, servants—more movement than usual, more distractions, more noise. And the King? He'd be busy playing politics, keeping up appearances, trying to keep the other Alphas from tearing each other apart.

What better opportunity for me to slip away unnoticed?

My lips curled slowly into a smirk.

The beginning of a plan took root instantly.

But I couldn't just run. Not without thinking it through. Not when the stakes were this high.

The King wasn't the kind of man to let something—or someone—he considered his property just vanish. If I wanted a head start, I'd need to make sure his attention was anywhere but on me.

That meant two things: distraction and timing.

I leaned back against the wall, pretending to listen to the girls' chatter while my mind spun through the possibilities. My heart was beating faster now, not from fear but from excitement. The risk was like a shot of adrenaline, warming my blood and sharpening my focus.

They could whisper all they wanted about the King's robe. About what I'd been doing in his chambers. About what that meant for my place here. Let them. While they were busy trying to piece together what happened, I'd be busy plotting my escape.

I could feel their eyes on me still, curiosity eating at them like moths to a flame. They didn't know me. Not really. But tomorrow... they'd never see me again.

And neither would he.

Or so I hoped.

Because the truth was, part of me knew the King wasn't going to let me go without a fight. And if I was caught...I shoved that thought away before it could root too deep. Failure wasn't an option.

Tomorrow, I was getting out.