All Chapters of Kill Me Alpha, Before I Do (Beast Of Flames Book 1): Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Rowan PovI gave her two hours.Two hours of pacing my study, of picking up reports I didn’t read, of signing documents I didn’t see… of my wolf prowling beneath my skin like a dog in desperate need to unite with its owner.I’d given Mrs. Gable two hours to prepare a tray of roasted chicken, herb-crusted bread, and a hearty soup even though there was a slim chance they were going to be eaten.I stood outside the heavy oak door, the silver tray balanced in one hand, feeling like a man who had finally, irrevocably lost his mind.What the hell was wrong with me?I was the Supreme Alpha of Stormveil. I had made grown men weep for mercy and felt absolutely nothing. I had burned syndicate strongholds to ash without losing a single hour of sleep. Yet here I was, standing in a dimly lit hallway at two in the morning, playing waiter to a woman who wanted my heart on a stake.I pressed my palm to the wood, closing my eyes. I didn't reach for the lock immediately; instead, I reached with my sen

CHAPTER 13Romy PovRowan didn’t say a word.He just stepped over the wreckage, over the shattered porcelain, the overturned tray, the smear of soup slowly sliding down polished wood, and walked straight to the door as if none of it existed.Aaron waited in the corridor.The Beta’s gaze darted to Rowan first, checking for blood or injury, and then it slid slowly into the room. I watched his eyes track the devastation: the overturned tray, the smashed porcelain shards glittering like diamonds in the rug, the smear of cream soup dripping down the mahogany wardrobe, and the dark, unidentifiable stain on the far wall.It had been a beautifully furnished sanctuary forty minutes ago. Now, it looked like a cage where two monsters had been let loose.Aaron’s jaw clenched so hard I thought I heard the bone pop.“Alpha,” he said cautiously.“Aaron,” Rowan answered.I stepped forward, folding my arms loosely like I wasn’t barefoot in a stranger’s territory, like I hadn’t just tried to beat their

Rowan PovShe was looking at me as if I’d gone mad.Maybe I had.“I have to wash you,” I insisted. Calmly. Relentlessly. I stood there in my completely exposed, unashamed glory, surrounded by the wreckage of a bedroom that looked like it had been hit by a hurricane.She sat on the edge of the silk duvet, her gaze darting from my face to... well, everything else, before snapping back up. She looked like she was debating whether to scream, flee, or reach for the heavy silver tray to finish the job she’d started earlier.Her mouth opened, then snapped shut. A small, confused sound died in her throat.“You’re...” she began, her voice breathy.“Yes,” I agreed.“You’re completely —”“Also yes.”Her gaze betrayed her. It dropped, sweeping over the hard lines of my chest, the jagged silver scars on my torso, and lower still, before jerking back to my eyes. Her cheeks turned a deep crimson. Deeper rose from the very tips of her hair to the very tips of her ears, clashing brilliantly agains

Rowan POVI looked at the key in Valerie's hand.Then I looked at her face—the sharp, practiced lines of a woman who had spent years positioning herself to sit in the chair Romy currently occupied. The very thin thread of patience I had extended to the Mercer family for the sake of pack politics finally snapped."Get out," I said.My voice wasn't loud. It didn't need to be. Valerie turned to me. Her expression shifted instantly into one of fake pity. "Rowan, darling,I only came to—""The key," I interrupted, holding my hand out. "And then get out."She shot a look at Romy, a look filled with such pure venom I felt my wolf snarl behind my ribs. Then she looked back at me, her blue eyes hardening."I was simply introducing myself," she said. "Surely the future Luna of Stormveil deserves to know—""You are not the Luna of Stormveil." I said calmly."You have never been the Luna of Stormveil. And if I find you in this wing of the estate again without my permission, you will be removed fr

Romy PovI was standing on the upper landing, the cold iron railing biting into my palms as I stared down at the black-and-white marble of the great entrance. I held a book, some leather-bound history of the Northern territories, but I hadn’t turned a page in forty minutes. My mind was a mess of exit routes and the lingering, phantom heat of Rowan’s touch from the night before.The heavy front doors groaned open and two men entered.The first was in his fifties, a broad-shouldered, silvery-haired man who carried his body with a strength earned by years of having pack status. His face was warm, with laugh lines around deep-set eyes and a mouth that turned up into a friendly smile; he wore a suit that hinted at money but didn’t shout it, looking perfectly at home in his surroundings.The second man was his companion, a little younger and leaner with dark hair pulled tight from a high forehead and a sharp-featured, pointed jaw. He walked just a step or two behind the first one, hands ca