Chapter 4: The Sovereign's Rage

Valerius's POV

For three agonizing days, I had not released her hand. From the fleeting moment she recognized me as her fated fount and murmured the word "mate" before cascading into the dark, my world had narrowed down to this single, quiet room. The shift had reversed itself while she slept, leaving her back in her fragile human skin. I had gently dressed her in one of my spare shirts, and ever since, she had simply lain there—an ethereal slip of a thing, entirely motionless save for the shallow, rhythmic rise and fall of her chest.

Suddenly, the monotonous baseline of the heart monitor fractured into an erratic, frantic staccato.

My head snapped up instantly. Her eyelids fluttered open, parting to reveal the brilliant, sparkling sapphire depths I had spent seventy-two hours yearning to see again. But as her gaze locked onto mine, no relief found her features; instead, a stark, profound terror flooded her beautiful eyes.

"Please..." she whispered, her voice cracking as a solitary tear escaped and traced a path down her cheek. "Don't reject me."

The words pierced my chest like a silver blade. I instinctively raised my thumb to brush the moisture from her skin, but the moment my hand neared her face, she flinched away violently.

"Whoa, hey, calm down," I rushed out, keeping my voice as soft and unthreatening as humanly possible, keeping my hands raised where she could see them. "I am never going to hurt you, and I would sooner rip out my own heart than reject you. Why on earth would you think that?"

The tension slowly bled from her rigid frame, and a fresh torrent of tears broke free as I carefully pulled her into my chest, wrapping her in a protective embrace. We sat wrapped in that quiet sanctuary until her silent sobs subsided. When she pulled back, a shy, tentative smile touched her naturally red lips.

As she shifted, the hem of my oversized shirt rode up slightly, exposing a thick, raised pink laceration stretching across her lower torso. My protective instincts flared, and I reached out to lift the fabric for a proper diagnostic look, but she swatted my hand away with unexpected force.

"No," she reprimanded, a sudden blush staining her cheeks. "I have... modesty to consider there."

My eyes widened slightly in realization, and I quickly pulled back. "I... I promise you I wasn't trying to look at anything else. I was strictly looking at this."

I reached out again, gentling my touch as my fingertips lightly traced the edge of the scar. The moment my skin brushed hers, her entire body stiffened into stone, and she scrambled away toward the opposite side of the mattress.

"Stop that! Don't touch me!" she gasped frantically, her breathing turning shallow.

My heart plummeted into a hollow void at the instinctual rejection, but the raw panic etched into her features quickly overridden any bruised pride. "Tell me what's wrong," I requested softly, slowly extending an open hand across the white sheets toward her trembling fingers.

She stared at my hand, her chest heaving before she leveled a completely unexpected question at me. "Are you... a virgin?"

I blinked, caught entirely off guard, but answered honestly with a quiet nod. "Yes, I am. But what does my purity have to do with this?"

The confession only seemed to break her further. Fresh tears spilled over her lashes as a ragged sob tore from her throat. "I'm so sorry," she wept, burying her face in her hands. "I wanted to be pure for my fated mate, I truly did. But... those men... they were too powerful, and I couldn't stop them... I'm so sorry."

The true implication of her words crystallized in my mind, and the absolute horror of it was instantly consumed by a cataclysmic wave of dark, feral fury. My inner wolf, Owen, slammed against the walls of my consciousness, demanding blood. A dangerous, low growl rattled through my chest, vibrating the very floorboards.

"What men?" I demanded, my voice dropping into a chilling, calculated register as her glassy blue eyes finally locked back onto mine.

"Alpha... Alpha Malakor," she whispered, her voice trembling so severely she could barely articulate the syllables. "He... he would... I can't say it."

She didn't need to finish the sentence. The puzzle pieces clicked together with terrifying clarity, painting a picture of systematic degradation that turned my blood to absolute fire.

"They forced themselves on me... things I didn't want," she murmured quietly, her voice devoid of life. "You have to believe me, please..."

I vaulted out of the medical bed, the sheer force of my movement sending the bedside table crashing against the wall as an unadulterated, primitive outrage consumed my senses.

"He is a dead man," I growled, the raw dominance of my command shaking the glass fixtures. The fury transcended my human limits, and my bones began to snap and realign as I shifted mid-stride, letting the monster out to hunt.

Aurelia's POV

The moment the terrifying cracking of bones echoed through the room, my survival instincts overrode all logic. I scrambled backward off the mattress, hitting the far corner of the room, curling into a tight ball as I locked my arms around my knees.

"Please don't hurt me!" I cried out, my voice hitching into a desperate plea as memories of Malakor’s chamber flashed behind my eyes. "I'll be better next time, I swear it! I promise I'll behave!"

Tears blinded my vision, but I forced myself to blink them back when a massive shadow fell over me. Expecting the heavy bite of a lash or a heavy fist, I tensed, only to find myself enveloped in a massive, warm embrace. Valerius pulled me tightly against his muscular chest, his frame trembling with a volatile vibration as he buried his face into the crook of my neck. He drew in a deep, ragged breath, inhaling my scent to steady his inner beast, sending a strange, electric shiver cascading straight down my spine.

As the initial panic began to clear, a distinct heat pressed against my thigh. Realizing he was completely unclad from his instantaneous shift and reversal, a fiery crimson blush rushed up my neck. I pulled back slightly, my eyes darting everywhere but his frame.

Valerius looked at me, a brief flash of confusion crossing his dark brown eyes before he realized the source of my distress.

"You're... um... you're naked," I mumbled shyly, deliberately staring at the floor out of absolute respect.

A low, self-deprecating chuckle escaped his chest. "Let's get you out of this clinical room," he murmured, his gaze raking over the oversized shirt I wore. "Let's find you some proper attire."

I offered a quiet nod, keeping my gaze averted until he managed to slide into a pair of dark athletic shorts. Once he was decently covered, he gestured for me to follow, and I stepped into his shadow, letting his massive frame shield me from the world.

When we finally emerged into the main clearing facing his private estate, the sheer scale of the architecture left me completely breathless. It was monumental. A grand, ancient brick mansion stood before us, its weathered walls covered in lush, climbing rose bushes that softened the otherwise imposing stone. The primary entrance featured a massive, tinted glass double-door that caught the afternoon light. If it were truly possible to experience love at first sight with an inanimate structure, my soul belonged to this house.

The moment we crossed the threshold into the grand foyer, a barrage of curious, calculating looks from the estate staff pinned me in place. Standing near the grand staircase were several high-ranking females; their attire was so impossibly restrictive and tight that any sudden movement threatened to tear the fabric, offering a display that would have been thoroughly unpleasant to witness. They leveled venomous, arrogant glares directly at my tattered appearance.

How bizarre,

I thought, a wave of confusion muting my fear. I instinctively reached out, fistting the fabric of Valerius’s shirt, anchoring myself to his side as we navigated past the hostile crowd.

"I've laid out fresh clothing for you in the adjoining bath," Valerius murmured softly as he guided me into a massive master suite. "Take a bath, a hot shower, or simply change—whatever makes you feel comfortable. Come find me downstairs when you're ready, beautiful."

My cheeks flared at the effortless endearment as he stepped back, giving me space.

I closed the heavy bathroom door, shedding the oversized shirt. For the first time, I looked down at the dirty rags I had carried from the Dark Moon pack, a deep wave of revulsion washing over me. They were thick with sweat, dirt, and the phantom scent of my oppressors.

Why I even brought these vile things from the clinic is beyond me,

I thought, tossing them into the waste bin.

I stepped into the massive marble shower, letting a cascade of near-scalding water wash over my skin. Every bruised, aching muscle in my body slowly began to surrender to the warmth. I stayed motionless beneath the spray for a long time, simply relishing a comfort I hadn't known in seven long years. When I reached for the soaps to cleanse my tangled hair, I realized there were no floral, feminine products present—a detail that, for some inexplicable reason, made a quiet sense of security settle in my chest. I opted for the next best thing: Valerius’s personal wash.

When I finally stepped out, I dried myself and slid into the garments provided. They were crafted from a rich, heavy midnight silk that slid effortlessly over my rugged, scar-tissued skin. Exhaustion claimed the last of my resolve; I collapsed onto the expansive bed and drifted into a deep, beautiful sleep.