The Alpha's Silent Bride: Seventh Time's The Charm novel Chapter 97

Chapter 97: 097: His to claim.

~ ROSELLE ~

I lie sprawled on the bed, completely spent. Evening light filters softly through our windows.

My legs feel thoroughly fucked and claimed, deliciously sore, still trembling faintly from hours of relentless pleasure. Even now, with the heat temporarily banked, I can’t get enough of him. I crave his touch, his scent, the solid warmth of his body against mine.

I rest my head on Ronan’s arm, my fingers lazily tracing patterns over his chest. But my thoughts keep tugging at me, refusing to stay quiet.

Should I tell him about it? What if I do? What if it changes everything?

"What’s on your mind?" he asks softly, as if he can sense the change in my mood. He pulls me closer, tucking me against his side, his large hand stroking soothing circles along my bare back.

I force a small smile, feigning casualness as I shake my head. "Nothing... I’m just curious, that’s all." I pause, biting my lip before continuing. "Why does your pack hunt Lycans?"

Ronan sighs deeply, the sound heavy with old memories. His fingers still for a moment on my skin before resuming their gentle path.

"Well... it’s a story I’ve heard since I was a pup," he begins, voice low and serious. "It doesn’t start with me, Roselle. This hatred runs far deeper than either of us."

He shifts slightly so he can look down at me, his grey eyes dark with the weight of the past. "For generations, we all lived in peace, Lycans and werewolves alike, abiding by the Moon Goddess’s laws. The packs coexisted. Borders were respected. Mates were cherished regardless of bloodline."

His jaw tightens. "Until the Lycans started the war."

I feel his body tense beneath me, the mate bond humming with old pain and simmering anger. I press closer, offering silent comfort as I listen.

"They grew greedy," he continues. "They wanted more territory, more power. They began raiding smaller packs, slaughtering those who refused to submit. They broke every sacred rule. They corrupted the old ways... turned to dark magic and blood rituals to make themselves stronger. Unstoppable."

Ronan’s hand slides down to rest possessively on my hip, as if reassuring himself that I’m safe and here with him.

"Many werewolves died. Entire bloodlines were wiped out. My father... his father before him... they fought back. They formed alliances. They hunted the ones responsible for the massacres. Over time, it became more than justice. It became survival. We hunt Lycans not because we crave their blood, but because they’ve proven time and time again that they won’t stop until we’re all dead or enslaved."

He exhales slowly, pressing a tender kiss to the top of my head. "That’s why I’m cautious. That’s why my wolf is so protective of you, especially now. There are still Lycan factions out there who would use you, or any weakness, against us."

I swallow hard, my heart racing as his words sink in. The secret I’ve been carrying feels heavier than ever. Part of me wants to tell him everything right now, curled safely in his arms. But another part, the fearful, uncertain part, holds back.

I tilt my head up to meet his gaze, my voice barely above a whisper. "And if... if someone had Lycan blood in them? Through no fault of their own?"

Ronan’s eyes search mine, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them. He cups my cheek gently, thumb brushing over my skin.

"I don’t want you to see me as a monster, Roselle," he says quietly, his voice rough with emotion. "But we’ll have to kill them. I’ll have to remind you again that I carry the weight of the crown on my head... and with it comes the duty to protect my people. As much as I know you have a soft heart, not everyone deserves mercy. Some threats must be eliminated. As a future Luna, you can always lead with love... but once people sense your softness as weakness, they will use it against you. They will maul you over."

He pauses, his expression darkening with old pain.

"The Lycans are the ones responsible for the curse my bloodline currently suffers. My forefather was mated to a Lycan. In his bid to protect our pack, he rejected her. In revenge, they resorted to their black magic and cursed our bloodline."

Kill them.

Those words sank deep into my chest like a blade, twisting over and over again in my mind.

He would kill me.

The thought hit so hard I almost couldn’t breathe. My heart hammered violently against my ribs as I lay curled against Ronan’s warm, solid chest. He was still stroking my back tenderly, completely unaware of the storm raging inside me.

I need to talk to Irina. This can’t be real. There’s no possible way this is true. In what world does my father, a werewolf, and my mother produce a Lycan daughter? It just isn’t possible. It doesn’t make sense.

And why am I even trusting her words? I’ve only met Irina twice. One single conversation, and now I’m questioning everything?

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to steady my breathing so Ronan wouldn’t notice.

What if she lied? Or what if this is some twisted game to turn me against him just like Mara did? Or worse, what if she was telling the truth and the Lycan blood in my veins is real?

"How are you feeling now?" Ronan asked, pulling me gently from my spiraling thoughts.

His fingers return, two this time, stretching me open as he kisses down my neck, sucking marks into my skin.

"Fuck... Kael wants to mark you," Ronan groans, his voice ragged and feral. His teeth graze the sensitive skin of my neck, sharp and teasing, sending electric shivers racing down my spine. When he pulls back slightly, his eyes are bloodshot and glowing a dangerous, beautiful amber.

His pace doesn’t stop.

Two thick fingers keep thrusting into me, curling relentlessly against that perfect spot while his thumb circles my swollen clit with devastating precision. The wet, obscene sounds of his fingers fucking my soaked pussy fill the space beneath the duvet.

I could feel my orgasm building higher... and higher... the coil in my belly tightening almost painfully.

"Ronan—!" I cry out, my hips bucking wildly against his hand.

He doesn’t let up. He fucks me through it with single-minded intensity, growling praises and filthy promises against my neck.

"Come for me, baby. Let me feel you fall apart."

The pleasure crests violently.

My entire body seizes, vibrating as the orgasm crashes over me like a storm. My pussy clenches hard around his fingers, pulsing and gushing as wave after wave of blinding ecstasy rips through me. I scream his name, back arching off the bed, nails digging into his shoulders while my vision whites out.

He keeps stroking me through every shudder, every aftershock, drawing out the pleasure until I’m a trembling, whimpering mess beneath him.

Only when I start to come down, boneless and breathless, does he finally slow his movements. He leaves his fingers buried deep inside me, gently stroking my fluttering walls as if he can’t bear to pull away.

He presses a reverent kiss to my temple, then my lips.

"Mine," he whispers hoarsely against my mouth. "All fucking mine."

I can only moan softly in response, my body still humming with aftershocks, my heart full and terrified at the same time.