Bought by the Beast King (Katerina and hunter) novel Chapter 85

**Leaves Falling Like Promises**
**By Amara Grant**
**Chapter 85**

**KAT**

A relentless throbbing pulsed in my head, each beat like a hammer driving nails into my skull.

With great effort, I pried my eyes open, only to be assaulted by the harsh rays of sunlight that pierced through the curtains. I winced, instinctively slamming my eyes shut once more. Everything felt off-kilter. My limbs felt as though they were weighed down by lead, and my body ached in ways I couldn’t quite comprehend, as if I were on the brink of succumbing to some illness. The air was thick with the acrid scent of sweat, sharp and nauseating.

The pounding at the door echoed again, insistent and unyielding.

I groaned, rolling over and yanking the covers over my head in a futile attempt to block out the noise. I had experienced hangovers before, but nothing had ever left me feeling so utterly wrecked. That relentless banging was like a drum, refusing to be ignored.

Suddenly, clarity struck me like a bolt of lightning. It wasn’t my head that was throbbing; someone was trying to force their way through my door. And I wasn’t in my own apartment; I had been dragged back to this place, this home that felt more like a prison.

Then the memories crashed over me like a tidal wave. Mr. Rivers’ mouth on mine, his hands roaming my body, and the shameful betrayal of my own instincts, pulling him closer as the wolf within me took control. It played out in my mind like a twisted horror film, and I shot upright, nausea churning violently in my stomach.

What had I done?

I pressed a trembling palm against my abdomen, recalling the searing pain that had accompanied my primal instincts, drowning out any rational thought. That wolf inside me would have taken Mr. Rivers without a second thought, without a shred of shame. She would have begged for it, consequences be damned. And I would be left to pick up the pieces of the chaos that followed.

The banging at the door continued, relentless. I staggered out of bed, ignoring the ache that coursed through my muscles. My senses were still heightened from the tumult of the previous night. I could already discern who was on the other side of that door. The scent of Kostas, mingled with others, wafted under the door and into the hallway like a warning.

“Katerina, if you don’t open the door, I swear I’ll break it down,” Kostas growled, his voice low and firm.

Of course he would. Mr. Rivers must have locked it before leaving. Panic surged through me. Was he still here, lurking in the shadows of my quarters? My nostrils flared as I searched for that pine scent that had driven my wolf into a frenzy, but found nothing. He was gone.

A wave of relief washed over me. I would rather cut off my own limbs than endure the feeling of that man’s mouth on mine again.

With trembling hands, I fumbled with the lock and pulled the door open. Kostas stood there, poised to strike the door again, his hand hovering mid-air. His face bore more color than the night before, but worry etched deep lines across his brow. Behind him, a small procession of women entered, heads bowed, arms laden with fabrics, brushes, and boxes.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his grip gentle as he took my arms, searching my face for signs of distress. “They’ve been waiting to prepare you for hours.”

I glanced at the omegas, the weight of their presence heavy in the air. Waiting to get me ready. For display. For duty.

“I don’t need help,” I protested weakly. “Everyone’s busy with Father’s banquet. I can—”

“It’s no trouble at all,” Kostas interrupted smoothly, stepping aside to allow the women to enter.

I watched them file into the dressing room with a silent efficiency that left me feeling hollow. Even while the land sickened and our pack faced turmoil, omegas were expected to polish their princess like a prized possession. I couldn’t help but wonder what whispers would spill from this room today.

“I’ll wait for you in the library,” Kostas said before turning to leave.

For a fleeting moment, I stood in the hallway, staring blankly into space. Mother had raised us like this, controlling every aspect of our lives. My parents made decisions for me, and so did my brother. The weight of it all pressed down on me, suffocating, a heavy shroud of expectations and secrets. The thought of leaving again flickered at the edge of my mind, but then their thin, pale faces invaded my thoughts, and guilt replaced that rebellious urge.

I would leave, yes, but this time I would do it properly.

With a resigned sigh, I dragged myself into the dressing room. I numbed my emotions as the hours dragged on. They scrubbed me, washed me until my skin stung, styled my hair, forced a corset around my ribs, and pulled an extravagant gown over my weakened body. I stared at my reflection as they primed and painted me, and aside from the hair, I could have been looking at a version of myself from three years ago.

Just a doll. A useless doll.

I looked away just as a knock echoed through the room.

“We’re here to escort Her Highness,” someone announced, their voice formal and clipped.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify