Breed Me Cursed Alpha (Lyra and Ronan) novel Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Ronan

Lyra’s weight in my arms is the only thing keeping me from tearing the fortress apart stone by stone.

Every time I think I’ve learned the limits of what this curse can take from me, it invents a new way to try.

She shakes once more against my chest, then goes still. Not relaxed–just… holding herself together.

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1 case my grip enough to see her face. Her eyes are red–rimmed, but there’s fire there under the hurt. Good. I’ll burn the world with it if 1 have to.

“What happened,” I say, not a question, not soft, but not for anyone else to answer.

She swallows. “Three of them. Flickering in and out. Not like the others. They were… hiding.”

My jaw tightens. “Wolves?”

“Pack,” she says, “Human shapes. I think.” She glances toward the wall where they vanished. “One of them–tall, broad shoulders, jaw like yours but sharper–he led the others. He grabbed me.”

Luke.

The face I saw as my claws wrapped around his throat. One of my warriors from before the curse–always at the front, always first to laugh, first to fight.

Always loyal.

Or so I thought.

Orso

“What did they say?” I ask.

Her fingers twist in the fabric of my shirt. “They were scared. Not of me. Of you.”

Good, my wolf thinks viciously.

“He said if the curse fully breaks, you’ll… put the pieces together.” Her voice drops. “He talked about a hall and a night and… and drugging you. Opening a door. He said if you ever find out what they did, they’re dead.”

The words land like knives I can’t see.

I search my own memory–the past before the curse, the night it fell, every stupid decision that led me to the Goddess’s wrath. I remember the woman I shouldn’t have tried to claim. I remember blood. Screaming. Light burning out.

I do not remember being drugged,

“I’ve never blacked out,” I say slowly. “Not once. Not in battle. Not in bed. Not before the curse, not after.” My voice feels distant to my own ears. “I would know if someone-”

But would I?

Lyra watches me like she’s weighing whether this new truth makes me more dangerous or less.

“I don’t think he was lying,” she says quietly.

Neither do 1.

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Chapter 17

But I can’t give that fear room to grow–not in her. Not now

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The curse twisted them.” I say. “They were half–trapped in stone for decades. Their minds aren’t clean yet. Memories bleed into nightmares. They’ll see things that never happened.”

Her month presses into a thin line. “And if they did happen?”

“Then I’ll deal with it.” I say. “When I have proof. Until then…”

She looks like she wants to argue. Then she sags instead, exhaustion winning over anger.

“Come.” I tell her. “You need rest. Somewhere they can’t reach you.”

I take her hand–careful, steady–and lead her through the winding corridors, deeper into the keep, past doors that haven’t opened in years. The wards here hum warmer, older, blood–bound to my family.

We stop before a pair of carved doors marked with a rearing wolf and a crown of thorns.

My room.

I haven’t slept properly in it in… I’m not sure how long. The curse blurred time until it meant nothing.

I push the doors open.

The chamber is vast–high–arched ceiling, dark stone walls draped with heavy banners bearing my sigil. A massive fireplace eats one wall, banked embers casting a low, reddish glow that makes the shadows look alive.

A huge bed dominates the center of the far wall–carved posts, thick mattress piled with furs and black linens. A wolf’s head is carved into the footboard, teeth bared, eyes inlaid with dull silver. The kind of bed made for a king who might also be a

monster.

Maps and weapons line another wall–blades displayed in careful rows, a bow hung above them, a table cluttered with old charts and notes from a war that never ended properly.

It looks like a place built for someone who doesn’t sleep so much as collapse between battles.

Lyra steps inside slowly, bare toes curling against the thick rug. “It suits you,” she says.

I can’t tell if that’s a compliment.

“It’s warded,” I say instead, closing the doors behind us. “No one enters without my permission. Not even the ‘ghosts‘ in the

corridors.”

“Your pack isn’t dead,” she says automatically, shoulders stiff.

A faint, grim smile tugs at my mouth. “No,” I agree. “Just cursed. Like me.”

She wraps her arms around herself and looks at the bed. I can see the conflict in her eyes–wanting distance, wanting safety, wanting something in between that doesn’t exist.

“I can sleep on the rug,” she says. “Or the chair. Or a cupboard. I’m very flexible in where I’m allowed to exist.”

The bitterness in her voice makes something in my chest twist.

“You’re not a servant here,” I say. “You’re my mate, You sleep in the bed”

Her eyes flick to mine. “And you?”

“I’ll take the chair.”

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Chapter 17

Her brow furrows. “That’s stupid”

1 blink. “Excuse me?”

B 65 youchers

She buffs out a breath that’s almost a laugh. “You’ll be half–useless tomorrow if you don’t sleep. There’s a Council full of arrogant alphas coming, remember? You’re not facing them with a crick in your neck because you were trying to impress me with chivalry”

She has a point. I hate that she has a point.

“We share,” she says, before I can argue. “Top of the blankets. No touching unless someone’s being murdered. Or…” Her cheeks flush. “You know. Later. Maybe. If I decide not to hate you. Or I have birth control.”

I swallow a laugh I don’t deserve. “Agreed.”

We both pretend it’s a simple arrangement and not the most dangerous choice either of us could make.

She uses the small adjoining washroom first, emerging in one of my old shirts that hangs halfway down her thighs. My wolf makes a quiet, possessive sound I pray she doesn’t hear.

I take my turn–fast, cold water over my face, a moment to brace myself against the sink and remember that I am supposed to be the one holding the line, not losing it.

When I return, she’s perched on the far edge of the bed, knees tucked up, watching the flames.

I cross to the other side and lie down on top of the covers, leaving a gulf of space between us wide enough to fit another person. Wide enough to pretend I don’t hear her heartbeat picking up when the mattress dips.

Wards pulse around the room, recognizing us both now–Alpha and mate. The hum settles into a low, steady thrum that Julls more than it threatens.

Minutes stretch.

Lyra’s breathing slowly evens out. She shifts once, twice–and then, without consciously meaning to, inches closer, until the space between us shrinks to inches instead of feet.

She doesn’t touch me.

I don’t touch her.

It still feels like too much.

I close my eyes.

40

For the first time in longer than I can remember, I drift toward real sleep. Not the thin, restless doze of a cursed alpha waiting for another nightmare, but something close to peace.

It doesn’t last.

The wards scream.

Not literally–but the magic flares so violently my eyes snap open, heart pounding. The air hums, electric, like the fortress has been struck by silent lightning.

Next to me. Lyra jerks upright with a gasp. “What-”

“Stay here,” I say, already on my feet. The wards whisper along my skin: boundary breach, power pressing against the outer

lines, not subtle at all.

12:14 Tue, Feb 3

GD

Chapter 17

“Roman-

1 grab a shirt, drag it over my head, and move to the door.

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“Do not open this for anyone but me.” I tell her, turning back long enough to hold her gaze. “No matter what they say No matter what they threaten. You wait until I come back.”

Fear flickers in her eyes–but there’s trust there too, fragile and hard–won.

“Come back.” she says softly.

“I will. I promise,

The wards at the door part under my touch, but I feel their reluctance–like the fortress itself doesn’t want me to leave my mate behind.

Too bad.

Intruders are at my border.

And this time, I’m not meeting them as a cursed ghost of a king.

I’m meeting them as the Alpha who has something to lose.

I step into the corridor. The hum of magic sharpens, all of it pointing in the same direction.

The outer wards shudder again.

And from the weight of the power pressing against my land, he didn’t come alone, whomever ‘he‘ is.