Alpha's Cruel Addiction

When Ophelia woke up, she couldn't even move an inch. The memories of last night's passion were etched in her mind. When he finally pulled out, she was leaking with his seed.

Now, sunlight was spilling through the glass windows and she was dazed.

Blinking in confusion, Ophelia was unable to shift her head to look around. Her entire body was pinned by a larger one. Not to mention, her skin was raw, her limbs sore, and her thighs still trembling.

After glancing a few times, Ophelia saw who blocked her and remembered what led up to this moment. Her face burned when she recalled how many times she screamed his name and climaxed.

"It's already morning…" Ophelia whispered to herself, turning her head and sniffing the air. The air was slightly fragrant from a dying candle in the corner of the room.

Speaking of her husband, Ophelia blinked.

"Uhm…" Ophelia glanced up, the first thing she saw was his thick neck. Then, his sharp jawline, and finally, his mouth still bruised from his frequent kissing and sucking, but never on the mouth.

Why didn't Killorn kiss her on the lips? He took everything he wanted from her body, but never this intimate act?

Ophelia touched her mouth, feeling the chapness of it, and wondered if it was because this part was unattractive. Everything else about her was unappealing, however, he didn't seem to mind.

"But you, in comparison…" Ophelia helplessly observed him. They were laying on their side, with her body pressed tightly to his, and his arms gripping her possessively.

Killorn had buried his face into her mane. Only when Ophelia pulled back, did she see him correctly. She was bewitched by his untamed hair—dark as night, but soft as wool. His lashes were long, his eyes tight with sleep, and his forehead creased in concentration.

Killorn must've been exhausted by the journey back. She wondered if he even rested on the entire ride here. Fatigue weighed his face down, making him appear even more mature. His lips were succulent and supple, pressed firmly together. Even in his sleep, he possessed a sense of stiffness that scared the worst storms. He was everything strong about the world, with his broad shoulders, slender waist, and deft body.

"You're the most magnificent man I've ever seen…" Ophelia never stammered by herself, for there was no one to watch or hear her.

A traveling doctor once said her behavior wasn't physical, but psychological. At that time, the Matriarch was even more furious, for the mind could not heal as fast as the body could.

"My lord husband," Ophelia tested the words on her tongue. Every time she addressed him properly, he'd correct her.

Ophelia's nurse once said a wife would never have the privilege of her husband's love. Such an affection was reserved for the mistress, for men of wealth and power rarely married their true lover.

Ophelia didn't want to be greedy. She didn't care to call him by his name, for fear that she'd use it and fall even more in love with him. His name was as satisfying as a sharpened sword.

How many more were there? How many women did he indulge in during the two years they were apart? He would never remain celibate, not with his stamina and insatiable thirst.

At the very least, Ophelia hoped he was clean. She had heard of stories about promiscuous women and strange warts they had from warming the beds of strangers.

"Please let it be countable by hand…" Ophelia wondered if that was too much to ask of this dashing Commander.

One look. That was all Killorn needed. His searing glance was enough for women to undress before him. A slight smile was all he needed to have a woman on her knees for him, begging for his approval. That was how Ophelia felt.

"Ugh."

Ophelia froze, every cell in her body tensing. She was so embarrassed by her gawking that she quickly glanced at his thick neck. She knew he was awake by the way he slightly shifted.

Killorn let out a soft groan. The sound was deep and rumbled in his hard chest. Her face grew warm when she remembered the sounds she had made, her hand that reached for the blanket but he clasped over hers quickly, and her cries when he clutched her tightly.

"S-sorry…"

Killorn didn't even move. Ophelia naively peered at him, realizing just how exhausted this man was. She couldn't imagine racing across the continent on horseback or in wolf form for days just to return—to her.

Ophelia couldn't fathom showing her ugly morning face to him. For the next few minutes, she struggled and writhed out of his grasp. Finally, she broke out in a sweat, but still glanced around for her dress.

Mistreated all her life, Ophelia learned how to dress herself. She preferred to function without a maid, for they were never kind towards her. She hurried into the bathroom, did her morning business, refreshed her face with the basin near the vanity, and then slid on fresh underwear, a chemise, knee-high socks, and other garments.

Ophelia slipped on the purple gown and headed for the doors. She saw the tents were heavily buttoned and the only people outside were night-guards. She slipped away before any of them saw her and quickly ran back to House Eves' tent. There, she hailed down the closest servant.

"P-please prepare a morning basin of water," Ophelia stammered out, revealing a determined stare.

The maid responded with an arrogant smirk as she ignored her mistress. She turned around and proceeded to walk off.

"D-did you not hear me?" Ophelia said in a demanding tone, but her voice wavered.

The maid irritably glanced over her shoulder. Hatred flashed in her eyes as she mocked her without words. Her conniving expression combined with cold irritation only made Ophelia dig her nails into her palms.

One day, Ophelia told herself. One day she would—contemporary romance

"Do it yourself." With a quiet snicker, the maid walked off.

This was how Ophelia was always treated. She had always tolerated being ignored by the servants. Why would they want to serve an illegitimate child who was often worth less than a peasant?

Would the commoner servant lower themselves for a peasant?

Before Ophelia knew it, she approached the servant and tapped her shoulder. Ophelia would do anything to smack the smirk right off the servant's face. So, she did.

"What do you want now—"

PAK!

The maid let out a sharp gasp, clutching her face in disbelief. For the first time in her life, she was smacked by a master. With a shaky hand, the maid touched the spot, feeling it tingle underneath her fingertips.

"You—"

PAK!

Ophelia slapped the maid on the other side of the face. She watched in horror as the maid's face burned crimson red on either side. Her palm burned as a reminder of her brutal punishments.

"Fetch the water. Now." Ophelia raised her head. On a different occasion, she wouldn't mind this mistreatment. However, Ophelia wanted to be a good wife and bring her husband his morning water.

Before Ophelia could react, the maid raised her hand. Ophelia seized the foreign wrist, her eyes flashing with a warning.

"D-don't make me r-repeat myself," Ophelia hissed.

"Do you need help?"

Ophelia's head turned at the unfamiliar servant's interruption. She paused at their welcoming expression. None of House Eves' maids had ever been kind to her, was this person new?

"Come with me, my lady, I will provide you with assistance," the maid continued with her friendly expression. "The water well is far from here, but we can fetch it together. Would that be alright?"

Ophelia released the maid she was holding onto. Then, she smoothed her dress and nodded.

"Lead t-the way," Ophelia decided.

The maid politely bowed her head. The abnormality of the situation confused Ophelia, but she said nothing.

Ophelia followed the maid away from the tents and towards the direction she recalled water being brought from.

"It is quite a far walk," the maid mused.

Ophelia pretended not to hear the maid's comment. She walked with the maid for quite some time, until they were beginning to walk deeper into the forest. An ominous feeling settled into her stomach.

"Th-this isn't the way to the w-well," Ophelia realized out loud, pausing mid-step.

"No, it is not, my lady."

Before Ophelia could react, tens of men rushed out of the trees. She screamed in horror and turned, but it was too late. Red eyes. White fangs. She was surrounded on all sides of the forest, with no way out.

A chilling and eerie voice filled the air. A man stepped from the group, revealing his murderous gaze.

"Hello, sister-in-law."

done.co