Chapter 46: Chapter 46 A Monsters Gentle Touch
Phoebe’s POV
I didn’t want to relive my darkest nightmare. This wasn’t like being in heat—I was completely aware now, and I refused to let him touch me this way. I couldn’t bear being hurt again.
Too many people had already broken me. My mate couldn’t be another one.
"No... please..." The words tore from my throat as panic consumed me. When Perry’s fingers circled my neck, I thought he might actually strangle me.
It was exactly what Kevin used to do. He fed off the terror in my eyes, thrived on my pain and suffering. That’s what turned him on.
But something was different about Perry that I couldn’t grasp—the king didn’t seem to enjoy seeing me fall apart.
He loved making his enemies suffer, basked in their blood and agony.
Yet when he saw me gasping for air with his hands around my throat, something made him pause.
I didn’t actually believe he’d kill me, did I? Still, the horror blazing in my eyes made him stop.
Part of him wanted to continue, to take what he wanted the way I supposedly liked it. But another part couldn’t stomach seeing me like this.
His grip on my wrists loosened first, then his hands left my neck entirely. I immediately rolled away and collapsed, gulping air desperately. My entire body shook uncontrollably.
I wasn’t faking this terror. The fear was real, raw.
But how could I enjoy it with Kevin yet recoil from him? What went through my mind? If he could read my thoughts, what would he find?
What had really happened to me?
I was panting hard, my face flushed red as tremors wracked my frame. My dress hung in tatters.
For the first time, Perry seemed lost. Watching me struggle to breathe sent an unfamiliar ache through his chest.
The sound of his zipper made me panic again. I shoved against him weakly, wishing him dead. I would kill him—in his sleep if necessary.
Forget the war or politics. The world would be better without him. I’d slit his throat myself.
The poison was unnecessary. I’d cut him open. I’d force the entire bottle down his throat.
"Calm down. I won’t hurt you." He pulled off his shirt and tried to cover me with it, though I kept fighting him with what little strength I had left. "Just breathe."
"No..." I whimpered pathetically, wanting him gone forever. Dead. "No... leave me alone..."
But I should have known better. Perry never listened to pleas like mine. Instead, he wrapped his arms around me and began rocking me gently.
"I won’t hurt you," he repeated, his voice surprisingly soft.
At first, I fought like a wild animal—hitting, biting, anything to make him let go. I sank my teeth into his arm until I tasted blood, hoping the pain would free me.
He didn’t even flinch. He held me tenderly while I tore at his skin, blood streaming down his arm and coating my lips. I scratched his face, his neck, anywhere I could reach.
He never yelled or pushed me away. Just kept rocking me as if I were something precious instead of a monster trying to destroy him.
I knew my wolf couldn’t surface, so there was no real danger of me clawing his throat open and ending this. Otherwise, he’d be dead already.
God, how I wished I could shift, grow razor-sharp claws, and rip him apart right here.
I didn’t care about the war or being some symbol of resistance. I wanted him dead because he’d hurt me, just like I’d always wanted to kill Kevin.
But it was useless. His healing ability was insane—every wound I inflicted vanished within moments. Even the deep bite on his arm sealed itself, skin returning to its perfect state.
I hated that most of all.
"Let me go!" I finally found my voice and screamed at him, just like the night before when I’d begged him to end my life.
How insane that I’d cycled through so many emotions in twenty-four hours—from wanting to die to wanting to kill. It was madness.
Eventually, my strength gave out completely. I collapsed against his chest, too exhausted even to cry.
He pressed my head against him and continued that gentle rocking motion, waiting patiently for me to calm down.
When I finally stopped fighting, he lifted me carefully and carried me to the bed.
He tucked me in with surprising gentleness before sliding in behind me, pulling me against his chest.
I didn’t understand this version of him—so considerate, so unlike the brutal king everyone feared.
I must have fallen asleep in his arms because when I opened my eyes, darkness had fallen outside. He was still holding me tight, as if afraid I might disappear.
His breathing was deep and even—he was sound asleep. The room lay in shadows, lit only by streetlights filtering through the window.
I shifted carefully and remembered the small poison bottle in my pocket. My dress was still mostly intact despite being torn open, and his shirt still covered me.
I reached for the bottle.
