Marked By The Mad King Alpha (Phoebe and Perry) novel Chapter 8

Phoebe’s POV

A fierce, almost primal urge surged through me, one that felt deeper than any conscious thought. It was an instinct, raw and undeniable, pushing me forward toward the podium where he stood—my mate, my king. The magnetic pull toward him was overwhelming, eclipsing even the false bond I had once shared with Kevin. Everything else—the crowd, the ceremony, the cacophony of voices—faded into a distant hum until only he remained in sharp focus.

His piercing electric-blue eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, he simply watched me in silence. A flicker of confusion crossed his face, quickly replaced by something sharper, more knowing. Slowly, a subtle, almost predatory smile curved his lips. He was smiling at me.

Those eyes were unlike anything I had ever encountered—alive, commanding, impossible to look away from. I felt as if I was caught in a magnetic field, every nerve in my body tuned solely to him. The desire to close the distance between us became the only thing I could think about.

But before I could take another step forward, two royal warriors suddenly appeared, blocking my path. Their armor gleamed under the sunlight, cold and unyielding as they stood firm in front of me.

“Go back,” one of them ordered harshly, gripping my arm with a roughness that made me wince. “No one is allowed near the king.”

“No… I—” My words stuck in my throat as I struggled against his grasp, desperation rising. My eyes darted back to the king. “Please, I can’t—”

Panic crashed over me in a tidal wave. It had been so long since I’d felt anything real. For the past year, I had numbed myself to survive. Now, all at once, emotions flooded me—fear, longing, disbelief, and a desperate hope I wasn’t sure I deserved.

“This…” I tried to explain, but the moment our eyes met again, everything inside me stilled. That small, almost amused smile lingered on his lips. Was he mocking me? Was this going to be my second rejection?

The first had shattered my wolf. Would this one break what was left of me?

The guards gave me no chance to respond. They yanked me toward the exit, their grip unforgiving. Whispers rippled through the crowd like a restless tide. I caught a glimpse of my father pushing through the throng, his face dark with fury.

Despite the dizzying pull I felt toward my mate, a cold dread crept along my spine. Cameron’s punishments were notoriously severe, and after humiliating him in front of everyone, I knew I was in for a reckoning.

Each step toward the door grew heavier, my hope sinking with every pull on my arm. I already knew how this would end: rejection, once more. Who would want me? I was just an omega—tainted, discarded, unwanted.

Then the truth hit me with brutal clarity—my second-chance mate was none other than the king himself. The Mad King.

The realization froze me in place. I stopped resisting. A numbness settled over me like armor, shielding what little remained of my heart from the pain I was certain to endure.

But then, suddenly, the guards’ hold vanished.

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