Page 150 of Chased By My Grumpy Alpha
“Come on, Astra,” I urge, my voice a low growl. “Show me who you belong to.”
She breaks, crying out my name as her orgasm rips through her, her walls spasming around my cock. I keep thrusting, chasing my own release, her tightness squeezing me until I spill inside her again with a deep, guttural groan.
When I finally ease her legs down, she’s winded, boneless, her skin flushed and glistening. I keep my cock buried inside her as I lean over, my lips next to her neck.
“You think I’m done with you?” I roll my hips, slowly and deliberately, pulling another gasp from her. “No, Astra. I’m nowhere near done. I’m going to fuck you again…and again…until you can’t remember your own name—only mine.”
The early morning light cuts through the palace corridors in sharp angles as I make my way to my office, my boots echoing against the polished marble floors. The familiar weight of exhaustion has been replaced by something else entirely—clarity, satisfaction, the kind of bone-deep contentment that comes from having thoroughly claimed what’s mine.
Like most mornings lately, Astra is still asleep in our bed, sprawled across silk sheets like something out of a painting. The memory of her beneath me, around me, completely undone and mine, sends heat spiraling through my chest even now.
I sit behind my desk, the heavy burden of political intrigue replacing the satisfaction of last night. Reports are scattered across the mahogany surface—fragments of information about a bloodline that supposedly doesn’t exist, references to “systematic eradication” that turn my stomach, investigations into what Draven has been up to, accounts of the losses the Tashina family is now facing since they’ve lost favor with the Crown Prince. I’m three pages into a particularly cryptic document when heavy footsteps echo in the corridor outside. Unhurried, familiar, unmistakably authoritative.
The door opens without a knock, because of course it does.
My father strides in like he owns the place—which, technically, he does. He is dressed simply this morning, no royal regalia, but his presence still fills the room like he’s wearing the crown. Luna trots in behind him and leaps onto my desk to perch near the window.
“Working early again?” he asks, settling into the chair across from my desk without invitation.
“Someone has to.” I don’t look up from the papers. “What do you want?”
“Can’t a father visit his son?”
Now I do look up, one eyebrow raised. “Not at this hour. Not unless there’s a crisis.”
He shrugs, and Luna abandons my desk to jump onto his shoulder, curling up like she belongs there. The sight of my mate’s cat choosing my father over me—over her—sends an irrational spike of annoyance through my chest.
I blink at this unexpected betrayal. “What are you doing with Astra’s cat?”
“Mind your own business,” he says, scratching behind Luna’s ears with practiced ease. She melts under his attention, purring loud enough to wake the dead.
The rude dismissal rankles me, but before I can respond, he continues. “The tutors are being rather discourteous to your mate. You should deal with it.”
My eyes narrow. “She doesn’t need tutors.”
“The hell she doesn’t.” His voice carries the sharp edge of authority that still makes me straighten automatically. “Now that you’ve brought your mate here and want her to be the future queen, you must give her the arsenal that will protect her. Not make her the laughingstock of the kingdom.”
The words incite my possessiveness and anger. “No one would dare—”
“They already are.” His tone is flat, matter of fact. “When was the last time she attended a court function? Met with the noble ladies? It’s been, what, six weeks now since she arrived here? Seven? And in all that time, she has done nothing but hide in her garden like some exotic pet you keep locked away.”
The questions hit like accusations because that’s exactly what they are. Six weeks. Has it really been that long?
“She’s been—”
“Isolated. The court is starting to whisper that you’re ashamed of her, that she’s not fit to be seen in polite society.” His voice turns sharp again. “Is that the impression you want to give? That the future queen of this kingdom is too fragile or too common to face her own subjects?”
Rage builds in my chest, hot and immediate. “I’ll—I’ll—”
“What? Threaten everyone into submission? Lock her away even more than you already have?” He leans forward, Luna adjusting her position on his shoulder with feline grace. “Stop suffocating her with your protectiveness.”
The accusation stings because it’s not entirely wrong. I have been keeping her close, keeping her safe, keeping her away from anything that might hurt her. But the alternative…
“Since when are you invested in looking after my mate?” I ask suspiciously.
He shrugs; the movement is casual, but his eyes stay sharp. “She has helped make my aches and pains go away. That tonic she gave me a couple weeks ago actually worked, unlike the swill the palace healers kept pushing on me.”
The fact that my father has been spending time with my mate—apparently enough time for her to be treating his ailments—is news to me. When has he been visiting her? How often?
