Marked By The Mad King Alpha (Phoebe and Perry) novel Chapter 64

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“So… do you believe me?”

The words came out like a fragile whisper. My heart hammered painfully against my ribs. I didn’t even know what answer I wanted from him—only that I needed one.

The realization hit me like a slap. I was desperate. Desperate for someone—anyone—to believe me.

All my life, I’d been doubted, blamed, silenced. And now, standing before the king who’d broken me, I was still begging for validation.

One person. That’s all it would take to make the world feel a little less cruel.

But Perry didn’t answer.

Instead, he cupped my face with hands still wet from someone else’s blood. The metallic scent filled the space between us.

“I want you,” he said quietly, eyes burning into mine. “I want you. It doesn’t matter if you’re lying or not. I want you.”

I stared at him, struggling to breathe. He didn’t believe me—not really. And yet, somehow, that didn’t matter to him.

So even if I lied, he would still want me? Then why kill that warrior? Why rip a man’s heart from his chest if the truth didn’t matter?

It hit me all at once. I’d been naive to think a single life meant anything to the Mad King. Perry had sent thousands to die—warriors who had families, mates, children waiting for them. Their deaths were numbers to him, nothing more.

And this poor warrior had only followed orders. I hated his lies… but I hadn’t wanted him dead.

“I want you, Phoebe,” Perry murmured, his thumbs brushing over my cheeks, smearing blood onto my skin. “Give yourself to me.”

Then his lips found mine.

The kiss wasn’t rough. It was slow—almost reverent. And that was what made it terrifying.

Because this was my chance.

My mind screamed for me to remember the poison, to remember the plan. He deserved death.

But when his mouth moved against mine, when his teeth grazed my lip and his hand slid to the back of my neck, all I could do was melt into him.

He guided me backward until the backs of my knees hit the bed. One hand supported my head as he laid me down, never breaking the kiss.

It went on forever. Whenever I ran out of air, he would pull back just long enough for me to breathe, tracing his thumb over my lips before kissing me again.

I could taste the faint tang of blood on his fingers. It should’ve sickened me, but it didn’t.

Somewhere in the middle of that madness, I realized how much I’d changed.

I had hated intimacy ever since Kevin. Touch had been synonymous with pain. But Perry… Perry’s touch wasn’t like that tonight. Every movement was deliberate, every caress hesitant, as if he was terrified of breaking something fragile.

And I hated that I liked it.

Then my thoughts darkened. If he died, what would happen to me? Would I survive the shattering of our bond? And if I did… would I even want to?

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