Marked By The Mad King Alpha (Phoebe and Perry) novel Chapter 165

Chapter 165 My Body And His

War

Phoebe’s POV

It felt like an eternity before the trembling subsided. I clung to Perry as if he were my only source of strength, and he had to completely rearrange his day to accommodate my emotional collapse.

Timothy appeared ready to protest, his brow furrowed with concern, but Elder Tricia swiftly recognized the fierce look on Perry’s face and wisely chose to remain silent.

The elder couldn’t help but notice that something was gnawing at Perry from the inside out. Whatever burden weighed so heavily on him had to be linked to me, his mate.

“Why did you stop me?” Timothy frowned, frustration evident in his voice. “You’re usually the one who lectures him.”

“Just look at him,” Tricia replied, her voice low but firm. “If he walks into the court like this, he’d take down half the nobles, especially with the elders pressing their demands.”

Timothy wasn’t thrilled with the situation, but he understood. Normally, he would have sensed Perry’s turmoil, but the demands of his own work had been relentless lately.

Phoebe’s POV

Perry remained steadfastly by my side. One moment, I would feel a flicker of hope, believing I could cope with everything, only to find myself crumbling again, drowning in apologies.

“It’s not your fault. You can blame me instead. I’m the one who brought this upon us. I’ve dragged you through hell, and this is my penance. The pain you endure is a reflection of the agony I feel. Please forgive me.”

He held me close, his kisses filled with urgency, as if trying to pull me from the depths of despair. Yet, no matter how much comfort he offered, I oscillated between feeling okay and being utterly shattered.

The cycle felt unending.

Even in moments of intimacy, sorrow would crash over me like a relentless wave, leaving me gasping for breath.

It only made everything more complicated.

“Shh. You’re safe now.” He pressed his lips to my forehead, his body enveloping mine, caught in a delicate balance as I wept beneath him.

This was sheer torment. If it could somehow mend me, he would set fire to the world, sacrificing everything, including himself.

“It’s alright.” He began to pull away, anguish etched on his features, but I tightened my legs around him, unwilling to let go. I needed to complete this connection.

I kissed him first, longing to escape, even if just for a fleeting moment. Perhaps this would bring some solace, even if only temporarily.

He made love to me with a gentle intensity, savoring each moment until the pain enveloped us both, leaving us as mere fragments of what we once were.

“I love you, Phoebe. I’ll always choose you above all else. Don’t ever forget that.” His words were like a mantra, a sacred promise he would never tire of repeating.

On the sixth day, I finally felt a semblance of normalcy returning. I was ready to speak.

As we lay intertwined, our bodies yearning for each other’s warmth, I scribbled a question on a scrap of paper: *Does anyone else know?*

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