Mated To The Rogue King
a
n't alone. The old nanny who called herself Debby was sitting beside me. I let out a frustrated sigh, noticing I had been moved from
voice laced with concern. "You need to
mory of what had happened flooded b
wn my cheeks. I reached up to touch my neck, feeling the tender spot where his teeth had su
become a plaything," I thought bitterly. It was almost ironic, escaping my former pack only to fall into the clutches of
ew what had happened to me? They probably thought I was dead, killed by the rogues who had attacked o
present. The deed was done. I touched the tender spot on my neck ag
pposed to be of happiness, shared between two mates who love each other. It's a claim, a bond that no other wolf dares
ace?" I asked, my voice shaky. "I... I want to go... home," I added in a whisper, though the
elt hollow, the dreams of finding my true mate now shattered by the beast who had marked me. The war
he cup suspiciously, still unsure of everything around me. "It's just tea, m
trays of food, all neatly arranged. My mouth watered, but I tried to maintain some semblance of composure. After she tasted each dish to show it was n
dy..." Debby began after I fin
off. "I've had enough. Don't remind me of my suffering, please
er. It'll be difficult to stop calling you 'my lady,' even if I respect your wishes. Others won'
I asked, shocked by the possibility. The thought of
r is different," she replied, her voice
your master?" I pressed, confused by her loyalty
erything," Debby answered with a fanatical look in her eyes, a look that both scared and sadde
said more than she intended, her emotions getting the be
id hurriedly, leaving the room in a
as left alone with my thoughts. But I couldn't dwell on them for long. There wer
e bed, I began to explore the cottage. It was larger than I expected, with three rooms, a kitchen, and a parlour. The walls were dull and bland, and everything inside was simple and
alive with the sound of insects. A wave of nostalgia
other would tell me bedtime stories during quiet nights like this. Stories of brave wolves
r pack like mindless ants, feeling no pain, their eyes glowing with pure evil. That was the first time I encountered rogues. They killed my father, but not
filled my eyes as I missed them both so much. The pain of losing them wa
t, my voice cracking with emotion. "Why did you
had ever smelled, a mixture of pine and ash. My wolf, who had been silent for so long, stirred within me, excited by the
ging furiously. The scent pulled me deeper into the clearing, further away from the cottage, and I didn't care about the dangers. I was consumed by the tantali
art skipped a beat, a mixture of fear and anticipation flooding through me. My mate stood there with
t it broke the wind, and my anticipa
lfman who had marked me. But instead of the warmth and connection I had felt earlier, there was something
realisation crashed over me like a tidal wave. He was
against my will. I can see that look, I can recognise that look and relate with the loo
ar him thanks to the mind link we shared when he marked me as his. His voice was fil
sn't value us. My heart trembled as I looked at my mate, who continued to stare at him. He was the
t to be wanted forever? Hot tears spilled from my eyes, I reached for him, yearning for that
i was hoping with a flicker of hope for my mate to run to me, to h
n. He ran away, leaving me standing th
o
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