Marked By The Mad King Alpha (Phoebe and Perry) novel Chapter 161

Fiona stepped into the chamber, fully expecting to find only the royal beta, Allen, awaiting her presence. To her surprise, however, the room was occupied by three Valerium warriors lounging about and two women who seemed to be engrossed in their own activities.

“Fiona…” Allen’s voice flowed like honey, smooth and inviting, as he extended his arms wide in a welcoming gesture. “How delightful it is to have you here.”

His lips brushed against her cheek, lingering much longer than what felt appropriate, before he guided her further into the room.

A wave of disgust churned in Fiona’s stomach at the moment his mouth touched her skin. She should have given him a proper kiss, allowing him to savor the lingering taste of Reginald on her lips, but that thought made her feel nauseous. Any fleeting sense of satisfaction she had derived from Reginald’s suggestion evaporated as Allen’s hand firmly directed her forward.

The spacious chamber was adorned with an enormous bed and several plush sofas, where the two women were already entertaining the warriors. They barely acknowledged Fiona’s presence, their attention quickly diverted back to more pressing matters—literally. Their eager fingers deftly worked at the warriors’ belt buckles with an ease that suggested years of practice.

Fiona recognized their type immediately. Prostitutes. She had seen women like them back in the Crimson Fang pack, always eager to please, always available. She had once judged them harshly for sharing their bodies with countless men, for refusing to wait for their destined mates. Some even chose this lifestyle over their true partners.

Yet here she was.

In the same room, about to service the same man, caught in the very situation she had once looked down upon with disdain.

Nausea surged in her throat, and she fought to maintain her composure.

“You’ve gone quiet. Last time we met, you were chattering away,” Allen remarked, yanking her down onto his lap. His grip tightened when she attempted to pull away.

“Relax. You came here willingly, didn’t you? Might as well enjoy ourselves.”

Fiona’s eyes flicked around the room, but every direction revealed the same debauched scene. She couldn’t bear to meet Allen’s gaze, feeling trapped in a nightmare of her own making.

“Let’s start with a drink. It’ll help you loosen up,” he suggested, reaching for a glass. As he leaned forward, he deliberately pressed his face against her chest, inhaling deeply, leaving no room for subtlety.

“Here, drink up…” He raised the glass toward her, his smirk unnerving.

Desperation clawed at her. She wanted to flee, but escaping meant abandoning her father’s revenge. If she left, the support she had counted on would vanish along with her.

With no other option, she reluctantly took the glass, praying the alcohol would numb her senses to what was about to unfold. But before her fingers could grasp the glass, Allen’s hand “slipped,” sending the liquid cascading down her chest.

“Oops. Clumsy me.” His smirk was predatory, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and desire. “Can’t waste good liquor, though.”

His tongue darted out to lap the alcohol from her skin, and Fiona’s heart raced with panic.

“Stop!” she screamed, shoving against him, but something cold snapped around her wrist—a silver bracelet.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify