Chapter 23

Zade

I couldn’t sleep. No matter how much I tried, it just wouldn’t come. Every time I closed my eyes, I could feel her presence lingering, a ghost in the darkness, haunting me.

I turned over again, Frustrated, I let out a low growl, the sound echoing in the empty room. This was useless. I pushed the covers off and swung my legs over the side of the bed, feeling the cool floor beneath my feet.

Maybe a cold drink would help. Something to numb the thoughts racing through my mind, the ones I couldn’t shake no matter how hard I tried.The house was quiet as I made my way to the kitchen,

As I got closer, I could smell her. She was in the kitchen. But something about Ashley seemed different—her scent was stronger than I last remembered. I pushed the kitchen door open silently and watched her for a moment, unnoticed. She didn’t sense me at first, not until her head turned toward the door.

I saw the surprise flash across her face as she gasped softly. Her sense of smell was clearly off; otherwise, she would have known it was me standing there. “Wh... who’s there?” she stammered, her voice trembling as she moved cautiously towards the light switch. The moment she flipped it on, her eyes widened, and she whispered, “King Zade.”

“I didn’t know you were this scared, Ashley,” I said, my voice dripping with mockery. Her fear was palpable, and yet, she still managed to look defiant. It was infuriating and intriguing all at once.

“What are you doing down here?” I asked, my gaze piercing into her, intense and unwavering. My wolf stirred inside me, craving her, wanting to claim her as ours. But I held back. This wasn’t the right time. She was still angry with me, still resisting. It was only a matter of time before she gave in.

“I couldn’t sleep, and I was thirsty,” she replied, her voice a soft murmur.

As soon as I laid eyes on her, my gaze locked onto her nightwear. It barely covered her breasts, and I couldn’t pull my eyes away, no matter how hard I tried. But then, I saw her noticing. Our eyes met, and with a sudden jolt, I shifted my focus away, pretending I hadn’t been staring. Now, my attention was fully on her.

She hesitated for a moment, like she was struggling with something deep inside. I could see it in the way her lips parted, the way she almost spoke but held back. Finally, she asked, “Why did you do it?” Her voice was soft but heavy, full of emotion. My brow furrowed, acting confused, but deep down, I knew exactly what she meant.

“I’m not your prisoner. Just let me go. I’m not your slave,” she pleaded, her voice breaking as tears glistened in her eyes. It was like a punch to my chest, seeing her that way—so fragile, so full of hurt. And yet, I justified it to myself. I thought I was doing what was best. Everything between us felt like it was spiraling out of control, and I couldn’t risk her leaving me. I had to keep her close, even if that meant tightening my grip.

I took a step toward her, and I could see her tense up, fear radiating off her like a heatwave. Did she really fear me that much? The thought simmered inside, twisting into something darker. Why did she have to be afraid? Was I really that terrifying to her?

I kept walking, slow and steady, as she instinctively backed away. Her legs trembled, her breath quickened, and I could feel my frustration rising. Why couldn’t she just trust me? Why was she so scared? My anger bubbled beneath the surface.

I stopped just inches from her, close enough that I could feel her breath mixing with mine. My lips curled into a smirk as I leaned in, my voice low and threatening, “You are my slave, Ashley.” Her name rolled off my tongue, deliberate and cold. “You have nowhere to go. And don’t even think about the gate next time—it’s guarded, day and night.”

My hand moved to her cheek, brushing it gently, almost like a reflex. She wouldn’t look at me, her eyes cast downward, avoiding mine. I felt the softness of her skin beneath my fingers as I slid my hand under her chin, tilting her face up. Finally, our eyes met. God, she had the most beautiful eyes—eyes that could tell a thousand stories without a word.

“If you behave, I might change my mind,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, lingering in the air between us. She swallowed hard, the silence pressing in around us, her eyes still locked onto mine. I could feel the tension in her begin to ease, her breathing slowing, her heart not pounding as wildly anymore. She was calming down, bit by bit, like she was trying to convince herself that maybe—just maybe—things would be okay.

But the more I stood there, the closer we became, the harder it was to fight the pull. I couldn’t resist her, Every inch of me was drawn to her.