Page 17 of Rogue Alpha Prince

Hot, I feel so hot.

I try to take the covers off me without rising because even with my eyes closed, I know it’s still dark outside, and I want to go back to sleep. I manage to push it to my legs, and it makes me realize the cover is not the only heavy thing on me. My eyes open wide.

I look down at the huge dark arm, tightly hugging my waist. I turn my head slightly to look over my shoulder. Rogue Alpha Prince has his face in the back of my nape, and he hugs me from behind, his warm body sticking to mine.

No wonder I’ve gotten so hot and sweaty.

He sleeps so peacefully and deeply that he doesn’t even stir when I grab his arm with my hand. I wonder how he can let himself be so defenseless, when there are so many werewolves who fear him so much, that they desperately want him dead.

Myself being number one on that list for years.

But when I lift his arm from me, I stop wondering. He’s not defenseless at all. He clutches a knife in his fist.

What the fuck?! He was holding me with this arm!

I stand up, panting and looking at him with disbelief. He could have cut me in his sleep! I didn’t even wake him with all my movements, so I don’t get how this knife would even help him when he is out so deep.

To be fair, he probably didn’t plan to hug me at all; he just did it in his sleep.

Either way… sleeping with a knife? With the other person in bed with you? Sick asshole!

“Stop staring at me,” he says, his eyes still closed but his senses apparently intact.

I huff with annoyance and start to look for some switch. There was a light in this room before I went to sleep, and it was night, so there must be a switch.

I remember Rogue Prince already being in bed before me while it was still on, so I check his side of the bed. There is a weirdly shaped lamp on the side table, and I try to feel for some switch or a button—

RoguePrince grunts and sits up, moving me back roughly. He lifts something small from the table and soon I can see the flame of a lighter. He uses it to light a lamp while I stare at all of this with wide eyes.

What? Why?

“There’s no electricity here,” he says with a surprisingly calm voice.

I know arranged marriage is not screaming modern times exactly, but this? No cars, no phones, no flush toilets—and now—no electricity? I didn’t sign up for that!

“Here? The whole castle? There were lights on on the way to our wedding, there must be…” I start rumbling in shock that I was thrown into some stupid Middle Ages situation.

Rogue Prince stands up, towering over me.

“No power in this room. There’s some in a few parts of the castle, like my office. But feel free to run the cables through all these stone walls if you are bored and able.”

“I, um, I need to pee,” I say and turn around, wanting to flee from him, but he catches my shoulders and puts his knife to my throat.

“Forget something?” he asks with his husky voice, leaning over, his lips dangerously near my ear.

Is it about calling him the royal title? Or not apologizing for a rude wake-up?Or maybe not greeting him first thing in the morning? Or is it not waking him with a blowjob like some good-obedient wife he probably hoped for? Fuck knows.

“Good morning, your Highness,” I say, hoping it would be enough for him to take the blade from my throat.

He moves the hand that holds the knife to my jaw, and he uses his fingers to turn my face to him, with the cold blade touching my cheek.

I look up at his navy-blue eyes, but he doesn’t look back at mine. He gazes at my lips hungrily, making me catch my breath. He leans some more and surprises me by kissing me roughly.

I let him—as if I had any choice in that.

I feel cold when he suddenly lets me go, but I try not to show it. He slaps my ass and sits back down on the bed, so I continue to walk to the small wooden door and sorry excuse of a toilet.

“Wait,” he says, so I stop in my tracks because even if I don’t want to admit it to myself, I might be a little bit scared of this unpredictable prick with a sharp knife. “You borrowed something from me, and I want it back.”

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