I Married The Villain Alpha

"Fine," he said at last, exhaling a sigh that felt anything but genuine. "I'll have the doctors look into it…" His tone softened for only a moment before sharpening like a blade. "…after all, I can't afford to have a fragile or should I say… a uniquely challenged Luna." He smirked, his words dripping with mocking disdain.

The heat rose to my face, and I clenched my jaw, swallowing down the curses threatening to escape. "You smug little bastard," I thought, biting my lip to keep my composure.

Vincent barely seemed to notice—or care—that his words struck a nerve. His calm, collected expression didn't waver as he rose to his feet. His imposing figure towered over me, blocking out the light.

Without warning, he reached down and cupped my chin, forcing my face upward. His touch was both possessive and patronizing. "In a few nights, Estoria will be hosting a ball to celebrate our victory against those filthy sewer dogs," he said, his lips curling into a sneer at the mention of the defeated enemy. His irritation at the subject was evident, but it only served to harden my growing dislike of him.

"A public event. Perfect," I thought bitterly, already dreading it.

"As the kingdom's future Queen, you're expected to show up," Vincent continued, his thumb brushing against my lips slowly with a maddening familiarity, "and properly thank the gammas and betas who risked their lives fighting under my command." His arrogance radiated off him in waves, as though I should feel honored just to be standing in his presence.

The overwhelming frustration bubbled over, and before I could stop myself, I sank my teeth into his thumb. Hard. I felt the faint taste of salt and blood on my tongue and hoped—foolishly—that it would wipe the smugness from his face.

But Vincent only chuckled. The sound was low and amused, as though I were nothing more than an unruly pet biting at its master. "Is that supposed to hurt?" he asked, raising a brow, his tone laced with mocking curiosity.

Defeated, I released his thumb, glaring as he raised it to his lips and deliberately licked away the blood. His tongue swept over the wound with slow precision, and his eyes—unwavering, predatory—stayed on mine the entire time.

"You're going to regret that," he said softly, though the heat in his voice sent a chill racing down my spine. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping into something darker, more primal. "You're tempting me, Iris. If you weren't so pitifully ill right now…" His eyes gleamed with a dangerous hunger, a warning wrapped in desire. "…I'd have you screaming my name already."

Iris's wolf stirred beneath my skin, responding to his provocations with an eager thirst. But I shoved her back down, refusing to let her revel in this. Not now. Not with him.

"But I can't have your health worsening because of me…" Vincent added, his tone almost mocking in its gentleness. "…especially since you'll be attending the ball."

"I'm not attending any ball," I shot back, my words sharp and immediate.

His face froze, anger flashing across it like a thunderstorm. For a brief, terrifying second, the room felt suffocatingly still. Then his lips curled back into a smirk, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I wasn't asking. I'm ordering you," he said coldly. "And if you try anything funny, I will drag you there myself. Do I make myself clear?"

The weight of his gaze pressed down on me, and I swallowed hard, my body stiff with fear. His words settled over me like chains, locking me in place. "F-fine," I muttered, trying to hide my growing unease behind a thin veneer of defiance.

The satisfied smirk returned to his face, amusement glinting in his sharp green eyes. "Good girl." The patronizing edge in his voice made my stomach churn. "Lastly," he added, taking a lock of my hair and twirling it between his fingers, "I'll be announcing our wedding at the ball." He brought the strand of hair to his lips, pressing a kiss to it with deliberate care.

My blood ran cold at his words. My heart thudded in panic, and, as if seeking comfort, my mind immediately turned to Atlas. I need to see him before the ball… I thought desperately. Atlas was my only hope of escape, the only one who could break the stranglehold Vincent had on me.

Vincent's smirk faltered as if sensing my thoughts, and his eyes darkened with suspicion. Before I could react, he leaned closer, closing the distance between us. Instinctively, I tried to pull back, but his hand darted out, gripping the back of my head with unyielding strength.

"You're thinking about someone else." It wasn't a question—it was a dangerous observation, dripping with malice.

"No, I—" My denial caught in my throat as his lips crashed against mine.

I froze, his kiss both punishing and possessive, demanding submission. Iris's wolf howled in pleasure, her hunger clawing at me, eager to give in. I fought against it, my mind at war once again fraying at the edges as I felt myself slipping, caught between my resistance and her primal instincts. No, no, no! Stay in control! I screamed inwardly, but Vincent's hold only tightened, and his kiss deepened, slowly consuming what little resolve I had left.

"Your Majesty!" A muffled voice rang out, sharp and urgent, breaking through the haze that threatened to consume me.

Vincent tore himself away from me with a growl, leaving me gasping for air and scrambling to put distance between us. His irritation was palpable, and his sharp gaze snapped to the door. "What?" he barked, his anger unrestrained.

"It's the general," came the voice from the other side of the door. "He's here."

The name hit the air like a bolt of lightning.

"Atlas?" Vincent muttered, the shock unmistakable in his face and tone.

My head jerked toward him at the sound of his name, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. Atlas is here?