Chosen By The Cursed Alpha King Chapter 93

EMILIA'S POV

The moment I heard that voice, my whole body froze. That deep, rough voice that could make my heart stop and race at the same time.

"Maximus..." I whispered, barely breathing his name.

The darkness around us thickened. His grip on my wrist tightened—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind me I wasn't going anywhere. The shadows shifted, and then I saw him. His face came into view beneath the moonlight, his eyes glowing that familiar, dangerous gold.

He looked wild. His hair was messy, his jaw tight, and his chest rose and fell like he'd been running for miles. There was anger in his eyes—anger, confusion, and something else. Something deeper.

I swallowed hard. "What... what are you doing here?"

He didn't answer right away. He just stared at me, his eyes scanning my face like he was trying to read every thought I'd ever had. Then, slowly, his lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile.

"I should be asking you that," he said, his voice low and sharp. "Where are you going, Emilia?"

My pulse jumped. "That's none of your business," I snapped, trying to pull my hand away. But he didn't let go. His fingers only tightened.

"Oh, it's my business," he said through clenched teeth. "Everything about you is my business."

I glared at him. "Let go of me, Maximus."

He didn't move. His eyes darkened, glowing brighter in the moonlight. "How could you follow him to his house?" he demanded. "How can you live with him like this? With him?"

I yanked at my wrist again, but it was useless. "Because he's my mate!" I shouted.

The words hit him like a slap. His jaw tensed, and for a second, he looked like he couldn't breathe. His nostrils flared, and then he stepped closer, closing the little space left between us.

His voice dropped to a growl. "How many times do I have to tell you, Emilia? You belong to me."

My chest rose and fell too fast. "Stop it," I hissed, shoving at him. "You don't get to say that to me anymore."

He didn't move. His hand slid to my waist, pulling me closer until our bodies almost touched. His warmth wrapped around me, his scent hitting me hard.

"Do you know how torturous it was," he said, his voice rough and trembling, "to spend the entire day knowing you were with him? Knowing he was the one holding you, breathing the same air as you?"

"Stop—"

"It drove me mad, Emilia," he said, his fingers digging gently into my waist. "Completely mad."

I pushed at his chest, but it didn't move him an inch. "You have no right to get mad!" I shouted.

"Yes, I do!" he yelled back, his voice echoing through the trees.

For a heartbeat, neither of us spoke. We just stood there, breathing hard, eyes locked, the night pressing in around us.

Then I spat, "Go to your mate, Maximus!"

His whole body went still. Then his voice broke, raw and rough. "You're the only one I fucking want."

The world tilted. His words hit too deep, tearing something open inside me I'd been trying so hard to keep shut.

"Fuck you!" I yelled.

And then I slapped him.

The sound cracked through the cold night air, sharp and final. His head turned with the impact, but he didn't move away. For a moment, he just stood there, breathing hard, his jaw clenched. Then slowly—so slowly—he turned back to face me.

The look in his eyes made my stomach flip.

He growled low in his throat, deep and dangerous, and before I could take a step back, his arm shot around my waist. In one rough, desperate motion, he pulled me against him and pressed my back against the nearest tree.

It wasn't painful—just sudden. My breath caught in my throat.

"Maximus—"

But he didn't let me finish.

His lips crashed into mine.

It wasn't gentle. It wasn't sweet. It was wild—hungry—like he'd been holding himself back for too long and finally snapped. The heat of him, the strength in his arms, the sound of his breath—it all surrounded me.

I wanted to fight him. I tried to. My hands pressed against his chest, pushing, but his body didn't move. My heart pounded so fast I thought I might pass out.

"Stop," I tried to say against his mouth, but the word came out broken.

Because no matter how much I wanted to hate him, my body betrayed me. My fingers trembled as they gripped his shirt, clutching it like I needed something to hold onto.

His kiss grew rougher, his hand sliding up my back, then tangling in my hair. He kissed me like he was starving for it—like he was trying to breathe me in, to remind himself that I was real.

My head spun. My knees went weak. I hated that I responded. I hated that my body knew him better than my mind did. Every part of me screamed to push him away—but another part whispered, you missed him.

The warmth between us grew unbearable. My heart was a drumbeat against my ribs, matching the rhythm of his breath. His mouth moved to my neck, his lips brushing my skin. I gasped, feeling his breath against me, the heat, the closeness, the danger.

"Maximus..." I whispered, my voice shaking.

He stopped.

For a moment, he just stayed there, breathing against my neck. His body trembled, his chest heaving. Then slowly, he pulled back.

The fire in his eyes flickered, replaced by something raw—pain, guilt, longing. He looked at me like he was fighting himself.

Then, suddenly, he cursed under his breath, spun me around, and before I could react—he lifted me off the ground.

"Maximus!" I gasped, hitting his shoulder. "Put me down!"

He didn't answer. His grip was firm, unyielding, as he threw me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing. His hand pressed lightly against the back of my thigh to keep me steady.

"Maximus!" I said again, struggling. "What are you doing?"

He started walking, his steps fast and determined. "I'm not going to let anyone take you away from me," he said, his voice low and shaking with emotion.

"Damien isn't taking me away," I said, trying to push up. "Let me go!"

He didn't listen. His jaw was tight, his muscles tense beneath my hands. "You don't understand," he muttered. "I can't lose you to anyone. I just can't."

I hit his back weakly, frustrated tears burning behind my eyes. "You're insane."

"Maybe I am," he growled.

"You made me this way."