Chosen By The Cursed Alpha King (Emilia) novel Chapter 22

Then be a good girl and come here.”

Her eyes went round in shock and panic but then she started walking towards me like she was compelled to.

She continued walking slowly until she stopped in front of me and it took everything in me not to smirk.

I brought my finger to her neck, running it down her vein and she visibly shivered. And then my voice dropped, low and dangerous.

“You should have known that the moment they offered you to me, you were already my slave. You don’t have a say in the matter.”

Her face turned even paler as she tried to move back but it was already too late.

My claws came out, sharp and angry, as I wrapped my hands around her neck. The sound of my claws sinking into her flesh filled the room, followed by the sweet sound of her screams as blood gushed from her neck, splattering across my face.

She screamed and screamed, but that only made my claws dig deeper.

“In this life or the next, you’ll never mess with what’s mine.” I whispered before pulling my claws out and she staggered back and then her legs gave out as she fell, her blonde hair covered in blood.

She gasped for air but there was nothing but dead knocking on her door as I stood over her body.

“You do look prettier covered in blood.” I said coldly before turning away from her and walking back to my chair as I slowly sank on it like the dark king I am.

I had satisfied the hunger that had been gnawing at me since hearing what this woman did to Emilia, but a new kind of fire was burning inside me.

The one that couldn’t wait a second.

The one that only she could quench.

I needed to see her.

Now.

****

“Let me go! What the hell do you people want from me?!” I struggled as two guards dragged me down the hallway leading to that fucking room I didn’t want anything to do with.

We reached the set of double doors and one of the guards pushed them open before the other one pushed me inside.

“What the hell?! Let me out!” I screamed in anger as I pounded against the door.

“I thought you’d be delighted to see me,” I heard that rich, cold, annoying voice and it made me stop, as I quickly turned.

That’s when the smell hit me.

The thick metallic smell of blood.

I walked further into the room and there she was, the super sassy blondie, lying on the floor looking sexy in red, dead. 1

I turned back to the king who was sitting on his chair like he was expecting something from me.

“So what now? I should thank you?” I asked as I folded my hands, but he didn’t respond immediately.

The doors opened again and two men walked in and silently took the dead woman out leaving just me and him.

“I didn’t call you here to thank me, Emilia,” he said, voice sounding thick and filled with restraint like he was seconds away from losing it.

“Then what do you want?”

His eyes darkened as they racked my body, slowly, until they met mine.

And then he whispered;

“I called you here to serve me.”

As soon as those words left his mouth, the tension in the room skyrocketed. It was so thick, it could be cut through by a knife.

“And what do you mean by serve you?” I asked but he just kept looking at me and then suddenly he did it; he bit his lower lips with his teeth and my breath hitch.

There was just something about the way he looked at me, it made every rational thought fly out the window.

It shut that voice in my head that kept telling me he was dangerous.

That he was a beast and I couldn’t let my guard down. Because if I did, that meant death.

“Come here,” His voice commanded.

I should have refused, especially the fact that he was still covered in blood, but it was like my feet had a mind of its own.

One step became two, just like that, until I was standing in front of him.

His gaze burned into me, heavy, suffocating, and yet… intoxicating.

One heartbeat. Two.

Then his hand shot out, gripping my wrist and yanking me forward so fast I gasped. My balance faltered, and before I could find my footing, I was falling into him-literally into him. My knees landed on either side of his thighs, my dress riding up, my palms braced against his blood-streaked chest. I could feel him. All of him. The hard, unyielding length pressed perfectly between us.

A sound rumbled from his chest-low, guttural, and so primal it sent a shiver down my spine. A moan. A fucking moan. “What are you doing?” I hissed, my tone sharp, biting. I wanted it to sting, to snap him out of whatever the hell this was.

But then I saw it.

That look.

“Dark desire, thick and molten, flooding his irises. It wasn’t just lust—it was possession. Hunger.

And before I could even form the next word, his mouth crushed against mine. No warning. No softness. Just raw, consuming force.

My first instinct was to fight—my hands pushed at his chest, my head turned, but his grip only tightened, dragging me closer, trapping me there. His tongue swept into my mouth like it belonged, like I had no say in the matter. My fists pounded once against him, but then…

Then I felt it. Him. The sheer heat of his body, the way he pressed me down against that thick, hard length, rubbing me against him as if he wanted to mold me to his shape. My struggles faltered, my breath coming faster, uneven. My body was betraying me.

“Get off me,” I panted against his lips before sinking my teeth into his lower one. Hard. Copper flooded my mouth, and he growled deep, dangerous-before pulling back just enough to lick the blood I’d drawn.

His hand snapped to my ass, a sharp slap that made me jolt and hiss.

“You fucking bastard,” I spat, anger boiling inside me like a volcano about to explode.

His only answer was to grip my waist in those strong, merciless hands and drag me forward along him, making me grind against him. The friction was sinful, maddening, and my head tipped back before I could stop it, my lips parting in a sound I didn’t want him to hear.

One of his hands slid up my spine, over my shoulder, before wrapping around my throat-not squeezing, just holding, claiming and then his mouth was on mine again, devouring, taking.

There was nothing soft about him. No hesitation. No patience. Just this overwhelming, consuming demand that swallowed me whole.

I didn’t even know when I’d stopped resisting and started moving against him on my own, my hips finding a rhythm that made my pulse pound in my ears. My nails dug into his shoulders, dragging against muscle so tense it felt like stone.

I told myself I shouldn’t be doing this, that I had experienced first hand what it was like for him to completely turn against you.

I reminded myself what could become of me if this goes too far.

Buy his eyes-goddess, those eyes-flashed between black and blue, each shift more intoxicating than the last. A growl ripped from him as his fingers dug into my hips, guiding me harder, faster, as if he couldn’t get enough of the way I moved on him.

The tension in him was a living thing. It coiled through the air, seeped into my bones. My breathing matched his, ragged and desperate, heat pooling low in my stomach.

And then suddenly-he stopped me.

I froze, panting, my hands still clutching him. His chest heaved beneath my palms, the veins in his forehead and neck standing out like it was taking everything in him to control himself.

Those eyes locked on mine again, black and blue swirling like a storm.

“If you keep doing that…” His voice was hoarse, dangerous, “…I might not be able to stop.”