Chapter 21: Chapter 21 The Weight Of A King
Phoebe’s POV
A world of difference existed between sharing a bed with Kevin and sleeping beside the king. With Kevin, all I felt was revulsion—a bone-deep disgust that made my skin crawl.
Even sharing the same oxygen felt contaminated.
But with Perry, the emotions tangled into something more complex. The disgust wasn’t there, replaced instead by fear that settled alongside an unwanted longing—the mate bond’s cruel joke.
His reputation terrified me, yet my body craved him because fate had branded us as mates. Still, Kevin’s abuse had carved deep wounds into my psyche, leaving me doubting I could handle any man’s touch, even my mate’s.
I scanned my surroundings. This was my room, but Perry sleeping in my bed meant he had a key. I’d locked that door before falling asleep—I was certain of it.
Trying not to disturb him, I attempted to slip from the bed. The moment I shifted, his hand clamped around my shoulder, yanking me back down. In a heartbeat, he loomed above me, his weight pinning me to the mattress.
Panic seized my throat as his body pressed against mine. Trapped. The sensation I feared most consumed me, stealing my breath and freezing my limbs. My body went rigid, wooden, completely beyond my control.
This was how it always started with Kevin—my body shutting down, becoming a lifeless doll for his amusement. He’d enjoyed both my resistance and my compliance equally, taking what he wanted regardless.
But this wasn’t Kevin. Perry didn’t start with cruel mockery or degrading names. Instead, his gaze burned into me with an intensity that felt like it might bore straight through my skull.
I looked everywhere except at him, which only fueled his anger.
"Why won’t you look at me?" His fingers gripped my chin, forcing my head up while his body settled more firmly between my thighs. The position made tears threaten to spill. "Why do you always wear that expression? Am I so repulsive to you?"
Everything in me wanted to shake my head, to deny his accusation, but words wouldn’t come. I could barely drag air into my lungs. My mind begged to retreat to that imaginary swing—my safe haven—but he demanded my complete attention. Something primal and commanding in his voice made disobedience impossible.
"Answer me!" His hand circled my throat, not squeezing but threatening. He wanted to terrify me into speaking.
Fear had always been his tool for getting what he wanted—answers, compliance, everything. It was the only method Perry understood.
"You refuse to answer?" His fingers remained loose around my neck, not applying pressure.
But I was already hyperventilating, my entire body trembling uncontrollably. I kept shaking my head, mouth slightly parted but producing no sound.
His eyes narrowed dangerously at my reaction. Then, suddenly, he pulled back. He moved away completely, settling back on his heels while still kneeling on the bed.
His gaze remained fixed on me as I struggled for breath. I turned away from him, gasping desperately for air.
"You really can’t stand my touch, can you?" He climbed off the bed entirely.
I didn’t see him leave—my eyes were squeezed shut as I fought to calm myself—but I felt his presence fade until the door slammed with such force I feared it might shatter. The impact reverberated through the walls. He was furious, though I’d done nothing to provoke it.
After I’d finally steadied myself, someone knocked to deliver my breakfast. Food held no appeal.
Not that I could taste anything anyway—my illness had stolen that ability long ago. I ate purely for survival, nothing more.
——
Perry’s POV
"What set you off?" Flynn winced as eleven warriors were carried from the training grounds. They’d live, but their injuries would take half a day to heal—an eternity for shifters who typically recovered within minutes.
"Find out more about her," I growled, scrubbing my face roughly before dumping water over his head.
Claw marks decorated my arms from the eleven-on-one fight, already beginning to close. I’d forced myself to hold back, fighting every instinct that screamed to kill them all.
"I’ve already told you everything. What more do you want to know?" Flynn sat beside the king, still recovering from the brutal training session triggered by my foul mood.
"Everything. I want to know everything."
