Chosen By The Cursed Alpha King (Emilia) novel Chapter 17

“No,” I repeated as I took a step towards him.

“You can take your offer and shove it up your ass where the sun doesn’t shine.”

I didn’t see it coming but the next thing I know, my back hit the wall and he wrapped his hand tightly around my neck.

“Patience…” He snapped as he glared at me.

…”Patience is something I don’t have. This is the nicest I’ve been in my life to anyone and you dare turn me down?!”

I clawed at his hand for him to let me go but he only released his hold on my neck but didn’t let go.

“You’re a monster.” I choked out, as I shot him a hard look of my own. I didn’t care that to him I looked like a scared kitten. “Am I?” He whispered. “Then why aren’t you dead yet?”

He released my neck, turning his back to me and suddenly the atmosphere became even more thick with tension. So thick it could be cut with a knife.

“I’m not going to be your toy.” I whispered as I rubbed my neck.

“I gave you a choice…” he turned to look at me. “But not anymore. You’re going to do as I say, and that’s final.” 2

“Or what?” I challenged,

“You don’t want to test me little wolf, you said it yourself that I’m a monster, you don’t want to see how much of a monster I can be.” He said voice low and menacing.

That only made me even more furious.

“What else can you do to surprise me after what happened last night?” I fired back.

“You think because you talk back, that makes you tough?”

“You think because everyone fears you, I should too?” His jaw clenched and something dangerous flashed in his eyes.

“You’re lucky you’re not anyone else…” he said as he took a threatening step towards me. “Or you’ll be on the ground by now.” “Then do it! Kill me! Finish what you started last night, I’m not afraid of you.”

He turned his back to me, ignoring me like I was just a child throwing a tantrum.

“Three days. Three days is all I’m giving you to decide. If by then, you don’t give me the answer I want, I’ll have no choice but to take what I want, whether you like it or not.”

“In your dreams!” I spat in disgust.

“You have no idea the things that happen in my dreams with you in it.” He said, his voice calm but laced with an edge of something dark-desire, control, or maybe madness. I couldn’t tell. I didn’t want to.

A shiver ran down my spine.

He took one step closer, and I instinctively moved back. My shoulder hit the wall again.

“You’re disgusting,” I breathed.

“Disgusting?” He repeated slowly, like he was tasting the word. “You didn’t think that last night when you came hard with just my fingers.”

My hand flew before I even realized it. The sharp slap echoed through the room, my palm stinging from the contact. His head snapped to the side, and for a moment, everything went quiet. I didn’t move. I didn’t even breathe.

When he slowly turned his head back to face me, his lip was bleeding. Just a little. But the sight of it should’ve made me feel triumphant.

Instead, I felt like I’d just struck a match in a room full of gasoline.

His eyes burned like wildfire, but he didn’t raise a hand.

“I warned you,” he whispered, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood. “I warned you not to test me.”

“And I told you,” I hissed, “I’m not afraid of you.”

“No,” he said, eyes narrowing, voice low and dangerously calm. “But you should be.”

He grabbed my arm-tight, but not enough to hurt—and pushed me against the wall once again, pinning me there with his body. Not forcefully. Not violently. Just enough to remind me that he could.

“I could have anyone,” he said, lips brushing dangerously close to my ear. “Anyone. But I chose you. Do you know what that means?”

I didn’t answer.

“It means,” he continued, “that you’re mine, little wolf. Whether you realize it now, or in three days… doesn’t matter to me. But you will know.”

I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way his breath on my skin made my stomach twist.

“You don’t own me,” I whispered. “You never will.”

He leaned back, studying me with a gaze that was equal parts fury and fascination. “We’ll see.”

Then he stepped away, his presence still lingering like smoke in my lungs.

“Three days,” he repeated, walking toward what looked like a closet door. “I expect a pleasing answer.”

He slammed the door behind him, leaving me in silence, my knees shaking beneath me.

I sank to the floor, pressing a hand to my neck where his fingers had left an invisible bruise. My heart pounded, not from fear, but from something far worse-confusion.

I hated him.

I hated the way he made me feel cornered, powerless, and weak. I hated the way his voice lingered in my mind. And most of all, I hated that a part of me wasn’t just afraid…

It was intrigued.

But then again, he said three days.

Three days was just about right.

Three days was enough for me to plan my escape.

Because over my dead body will I become his property.

Never.