Marked By The Mad King Alpha (Phoebe and Perry) novel Chapter 39

At first, the sensation was overwhelming, a dizzying wave that made me feel as if I were on the brink of death. The atmosphere around me thickened, each breath becoming a struggle as my heartbeat raced wildly, pounding in my chest like a war drum. Heat coursed through my veins, an intense warmth that felt like molten lava, igniting every nerve ending in my body. It was as if my body had its own will, arching toward the king before my mind could grasp the reason behind this inexplicable urge.

A deep, sharp ache began to unfurl within me—need intertwined with pain, creating a confusion so profound that I could no longer distinguish one from the other. The more I fought against it, the more it intensified, feeding off the very air I breathed, which was thick with his presence.

Perry stood close, his hands hovering uncertainly in the space between us. His gaze searched mine, revealing a vulnerability that mirrored my own, as if he too was grappling with an emotion he couldn’t quite control. The bond that linked us had fully awakened, a silent demand urging us to surrender to its power.

“Phoebe,” he breathed, his voice low and strained, caught in a tumult of anger and desire. “What’s happening to you?”

“I don’t know,” I gasped, my fingers clutching the fabric of my shirt, as if it could shield me from the fire raging inside. “It burns.”

And it truly did—an unbearable heat radiated from the mark on my neck, pulsing in rhythm with the frantic beats of my heart, each throb echoing the turmoil within me.

He brushed his fingers along my arm, and the fleeting touch ignited a jolt of electricity that surged through my body. I despised how it soothed the pain, even as it made me quiver with need. My instincts screamed for me to retreat, to put space between us, yet the bond pulled me in, weaving us together with an invisible thread that felt both comforting and terrifying.

“Look at me,” he urged, his tone softer, more earnest this time. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need it to stop,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, as if saying it aloud would make it real.

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