All Chapters of The Alpha Prince's Personal Maid : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Belle's POV His tongue plunges between the folds, eating her out like a man starved. Belle feels him everywhere, his tongue diving deeper than she'd ever thought it could go, while his thumb simultaneously works her clit. She gasps out loud, legs quavering around Dorian's shoulders where they've been thrown, her head pressed back into the pillow as another loud moan rips past her lips. Dorian hums against her skin where she's most sensitive, the vibrating sending another strip of heat up her spine even as his hands ascend, tracing the line of Belle's throat. The the other hand keeps her legs firmly clamped around his broad shoulders, "I've wanted to touch you like this for a very long time, my dear." he whispers hungrily, before his tongue plunges even deeper. His touches become more fervent, whispering praises against where she's most sensitive, unaware of how deeply his words strike her soul. Belle doesn't last after that, body arching off the bed, her hands snaking

Belle's POV Belle quickly realizes that the growls and howls definitely belongs to rogue wolves. Their howls sound eerily similar to the day they were ambushed in the woods, but these were much, more darker. And judging by how empty the streets are-- they're much more dangerous. She stays close to the gate, praying desperately that Dorian notices she's missing and comes for her. She's freezing now, arms wrapped tightly around herself, limbs trembling no matter how hard she tries to steady them. What's worse is, the howls keep getting closer. Like they're following her scent and coming toward her. Like they're tracking her scent. She contemplates just rattling the gates, screaming for help, but that will only draw them in faster. She needs to hide herself somehow. A camouflage. Moving as quietly as possible, she slips farther down the road until she finds a muddy puddle beside an abandoned cart. Without thinking, Belle smears the wet earth scent over her pulse point

Belle's POV Dorian's gaze fleets between them for a beat too long than Belle would've liked. He hasn't even noticed the bleeding arm yet, the worry in his pheromones already settling into jealousy. She frowns, pulling back harder than she'd intended. The only reason why she was even out there is because of HIS Princess, who's currently looking at her unbashfully with blazing eyes, like she's mad Belle is not dead yet. And the only thing he cares about is that there's another alphas scent on her!? She finally snaps, pulling entirely away from him with a face that's folded into a tight scowl. . "I'm tired." She mumbles, not offering any other explanations, before she storms off. Dorian tries to catch her wrist, pulling her back, but she twists her arm out of his hold, hissing loudly in pain as it stretches the dried wounds on her arm. And that's when the haze of his jealous finally clears... His eyes widen, red eyes catching the tear on her arm. "W-what happened?" Belle

Dorian's POV Dorian strides through the sunlit corridors of the palace, Belle's words echoing relentlessly in his mind. Janet tried to have her killed. The fake letter, the wolf night ambush--- everything seems completely calculated. Rage simmers beneath his skin, hot and volatile. His Isabella had fought for her life in the dark while he sat oblivious inside these walls. The claw marks on her arm flash in his memory. He clenches his fists, green eyes narrowing. She is not just some disposable pawn in court games. She is his. And they had no right to touch her. He reaches the heavy oak doors of King Eric's private study and doesn't wait for announcement. The guards recognize him and step aside. Dorian pushes inside, the door thudding shut behind him. King Eric looks up from a stack of parchments, brows rising at the intrusion. "Prince Dorian. To what do I owe this… unannounced visit?" Dorian stops before the wide desk, shoulders squared, alpha presence filling the r

Dorian's POVDorian's control shatters the moment their lips touch. He kisses her with too much spit and, like he's trying to claim her from the inside out. He doesn't give her a chance to breathe, pressing her against the heavy oak doors with all his weight, mouth dropping from her lips, ripping the shawl off to mark down her chin to her neck. "You're mine," he growls against the softness of her neck, voice gravel-rough and trembling with raw need. His body doesn't relent, one thick thigh sliding between her legs to pin her in place. The scent of her--warm, sweet, and something uniquely her---drives his wolf wild.Dorian can still smell faint traces of Nate's scent, it still clings to her shoulder, and it makes his blood boil hotter.He grabs her wrists, pinning them above her head with one large hand, careful of her injured arm but firm. "Say it, Isabella. Tell me who you belong to."Her breath hitches, chest heaving against his. "Dorian… you're--" "Say it." His free hand yanks