Chosen By The Cursed Alpha King Chapter 74

EMILIA'S POV

The first thing I felt was his breath on my skin.

Hot. Rough. Possessive.

The second thing I felt was panic.

My heart slammed against my ribs as his arms locked tighter around me. My palms pressed against the hard wall of his chest, but he didn't budge. His scent—earth, rain—was wild and strange.

And then came his growl.

"Why," he rasped, his voice low and dangerous, "do you have another man's scent all over you?"

My throat went dry.

He wasn't just asking. He was accusing.

He leaned in closer, his nose at my neck again, inhaling me like a predator memorizing prey. "Not just any man," he snarled. "Him."

Every muscle in my body went rigid.

Him.

My mouth opened, but nothing came out. My mind was a blur of images—Maximus' eyes in the moonlight, his hands on me, his body pressed on mine, claiming me in the best way possible.

And now this stranger—this man—was holding me like I belonged to him.

His fingers tightened at my waist. "And whose shirt," he hissed, his words like claws, "are you wearing?"

I looked down. My stomach dropped. I hadn't even realized it until now—the shirt clinging to me, loose and soft, smelled faintly of Maximus.

I didn't answer. I couldn't.

He pulled back then, just enough for me to see his face.

And my breath caught.

Blue eyes. Striking blue eyes, fierce but beautiful, the kind you can't look away from. His features were sharp, noble, powerful. And familiar.

So familiar.

I stared at him, confusion twisting through me. He looked like Maximus—not exactly, but enough that my brain struggled to tell them apart. Same high cheekbones, same strong jaw. The same kind of power humming under his skin.

"What..." My voice trembled. "What did you just say?"

His eyes burned into mine. "You're my mate," he said, low and rough, "and I'm seconds away from losing it because you smell like another man. Like that fucking bastard."

Mate.

The word hit me like a blow.

I blinked at him. "How—how do you know we're mates?"

He frowned at me, like I'd just asked the dumbest question in the world. "Don't you feel it?" His brows furrowed deeper. "I felt it the second I saw you. Even now—your scent is weak, but it's there. Vanilla and jasmine."

He dipped his head again, inhaling at my neck. My whole body flinched.

"Stop," I gasped, trying to pull away.

But his arm only tightened, fingers gripping my waist like steel. A low growl vibrated in his chest, so deep I felt it through my bones.

"I don't have a wolf," I blurted. The words tumbled out before I could stop them. "How can you tell we're mates if I don't have one?"

He lifted his head then, his thumb brushing my chin. His eyes searched mine, slow and intense.

"Darling," he said, voice dropping into something dark and velvet, "I'm a powerful Alpha male with royal blood." His thumb stroked my jaw. "I can pick up even the tiniest scent. And without a doubt..." His eyes glinted, fierce and sure. "You're mine."

Mine.

The word wrapped around me like a chain.

I froze, every nerve in my body screaming. For years, I'd imagined how it would happen—how I'd meet my mate. I thought maybe he wouldn't want me. Maybe he'd look at me and see what everyone else saw: an Omega who wasn't worth claiming.

But this man...This man already looked like he owned me. Like he'd tear the world apart to keep me.

But all I could think about was Maximus.

What would he say? What would he do if he found out I had found my mate? Would he let me go? Would he be relieved? Angry?

Would he... would he even care?

And what if he was the one who found his mate?

Of course, I'd have to step aside. That was how it worked. Mates belonged to each other. Not to others.

I must have gone still, lost in my thoughts. The man's thumb brushed my jaw again, drawing me back to him. He was studying my face now, the corner of his mouth curved in something that wasn't quite a smile, wasn't quite a snarl.

"What are you thinking?" he asked softly, almost a purr.

I forced myself to look up at him. "I'm just..." My voice shook. "I'm just trying to process everything."

He gave me a small smile then, but it wasn't soft. It was hungry. Possessive.

And then he moved before I could react, pulling me flush against him. My palms flattened against his chest, feeling the raw strength under his shirt.

I tried to pull away. "Let me go—"

He didn't.

He didn't like it.

His grip on my waist tightened, his body caging mine. I could feel his heartbeat, fast and heavy, a mirror of my own. His breath ghosted over my cheek, warm and claiming.

He leaned down until his lips hovered at my ear. His voice was a low growl, a dark caress that sent a tremor down my spine.

"My sweet mate..."

My heart pounded so hard it hurt.

He paused, as if savoring the sound of my quick breaths, the tremor of my pulse against his palm.

Then, soft but sharp as a blade, he finished:

"You're coming with me."