Chosen By The Cursed Alpha King Chapter 76

EMILIA'S POV

"Wait—wait!"

My voice was filled with anger and frustration, but he didn't even slow down. His fingers wrapped around my wrist like iron, dragging me down the corridor. Every step echoed off the stone walls, my bare feet slipping on the smooth floor as I tried to keep up.

"You have to listen to me," I gasped, pulling at his hand. "Please, just stop—"

He didn't.

He moved like a predator on the hunt—quick, purposeful, relentless. The scent of earth and rain rolled off him in waves, drowning my senses. His grip was firm but not cruel, yet there was a wildness to it, a feral heat that made my skin prickle.

I stumbled again, my shoulder brushing the cold wall. His hold tightened instantly, steadying me, but he never looked back.

"I said stop!" I tried again, louder this time.

That got his attention.

He halted so abruptly I nearly crashed into him. Before I could find my balance, he spun and pressed me back against the wall. My breath caught. His body caged mine, broad shoulders blocking out the hallway light.

His eyes burned down into mine, blue flames rimmed with gold. His scent was everywhere now—earth after rain, moss, pine. My heart slammed against my ribs.

"You don't understand," he growled, low and dark, his face inches from mine. "Your scent... it's driving me so fucking crazy."

His nose brushed the column of my throat, slow and deliberate. I shuddered.

"But first..." His voice dipped lower, a promise and a threat in one. "You need to shower. Take off that damn shirt before I go mad."

He dragged his nose down my neck, inhaling me like he could drink me through my skin. Heat flared where his breath touched, and shame curled in my stomach because a part of me responded. My fingers curled against the wall, nails scraping stone.

Then—

A sound tore through the hallway like a blade.

An angry growl.

Deep. Ferocious. Familiar.

I froze.

The man in front of me stiffened too, his head snapping up. His body went taut, predator recognizing predator.

And then the voice came, echoing down the corridor like thunder.

"Get your fucking hands off her."

My blood turned to ice.

Maximus.

He sounded like he wanted to set the entire castle on fire. My brain stopped working; everything inside me went still.

I tried to push against the man holding me, desperate to put space between us, but he didn't move right away. His fingers lingered at my waist, heavy and possessive, before—slowly—he pulled back.

Only enough to turn toward the voice.

I followed his gaze.

Maximus stood at the far end of the hallway, shoulders squared, chest rising and falling in sharp, angry breaths. Even from here, I could see his eyes flickering like his beast was seconds away from surfacing. His jaw was clenched so tight the muscle flickered like a live wire. His hands were fists at his sides, trembling.

He looked like he was fighting himself. Fighting the thing inside him.

The man next to me—my supposed mate—didn't seem to care. If anything, he straightened, pulling me subtly closer to his side. His hand slid from my wrist to my waist again, a silent declaration.

I tried to edge away. His grip only firmed.

"Looking for something?" he called out, voice like a whip crack.

Maximus' jaw ticked. "Don't make me repeat myself," he said, each word a growl. "or I'll rip off your fucking hands."

The air thickened, heavy as storm clouds. My heart was a war drum in my chest.

The man beside me laughed—an ugly, humorless sound. "When will you ever be happy for me, brother?"

Brother.

The word hit me like a slap.

I jerked my head toward him, staring. My mind scrambled, matching features—the blue eyes, the sharp jaw, the power humming beneath his skin. No wonder he'd felt so familiar.

They were brothers.

I swallowed hard, throat dry.

Maximus took a step forward, slow, deliberate. His fists clenched tighter. The sound of his claws unsheathing, even half-formed, scraped faintly in the air.

"Don't push me, Damien," he warned, voice low, deadly.

Damien.

So that was his name.

Damien's hand tightened on my waist. His body shifted slightly, putting himself between me and Maximus. "I just found my mate," he snapped. "And you want her too? Are you going to take everything from me?" His voice rose, cracked with old rage. "First you took my throne. Now you want my mate. You're selfish."

Maximus ignored him completely, his eyes locked on mine.

"Come with me, Emilia." His voice was softer now, but the command under it was iron.

I hesitated.

I took a half-step forward—instinct, gravity—and Damien yanked me back, his arm a band of steel around my waist.

"She's not going anywhere with you," Damien growled.

I felt like a rabbit caught between two wolves. One was my mate, the other was... Maximus. The man who I didn't even understand what I felt for him.

"Damien," Maximus said, his tone sharpening. "You're pushing it."

Damien's laugh was sharp, bitter. "You think I'll just let you take my mate?"

Maximus' eyes flickered again, dangerous black swallowing the blue. "I am your king," he said slowly, each word deliberate. "I can get any woman I want."

The words sliced through me.

I flinched.

Damien snarled. "Not this one. I'd rather die than let you take my mate." His grip on me tightened as if he feared I'd vanish. "I won't lose again."

Maximus took another step forward. The temperature in the hall seemed to drop.

He tilted his head, a movement so slight but so predatory it made the hair on my arms rise. "She might be your mate," he said, voice low, calm—the calm before a killing strike.

Then his eyes cut to mine.

"But she's pregnant with my child."

The world stopped.

My breath caught, a soft sound that barely escaped my lips.

"What?" Damien's voice cracked. He stiffened like he'd been shot.

"She's pregnant with my child," Maximus repeated, louder this time, his eyes burning into Damien's. "That makes her mine."