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TO SATE AN ALPHA'S FURY Novel Cover

TO SATE AN ALPHA'S FURY

A contemporary chef finds herself entangled in a prehistoric vendetta where she must decide between her original timeline and the Alpha king she has come to adore. As history threatens to cycle back into violence, she faces a desperate struggle. Can a traveler from the future truly alter a fate forged in bloodshed, or is she merely destined to be the final sacrifice for a monarch whose death has already been decreed by the stars?
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Chapter 9

Alaric's POV

I staggered out of Elara's court. My boots crushed the scent of her perfume into the stone.

I got to my chamber. I slammed the door. The fits returned. My muscles coiled. My bones felt like they were melting and hardening at the same time.

I gripped the edge of my desk. I watched my claws sink into the wood.

My mind refused to focus on the pain. It focused on Sophie.

I saw her pale face in the kitchen. I saw her slumped shoulders. She was angry. She was exhausted. I had used my mouth to steal a moment from a woman who owed me nothing.

I needed to fix the damage. I needed to please her before Cassian returned with her bag.

I called for the guard outside my door. I told him to find Thomas the Jester. I told him to bring the man to me immediately.

I sat in the silence of my room. I tried to become normal. Then a flash of memory hit me. I saw the garden. I saw the moon. I felt the pressure of Sophie's lips on mine.

The memory was faint. It was like a dream in a fog. But it was there. I felt the heat of her skin. I felt the way she tasted like mint and honey.

The fits began to die down. The fire in my blood cooled. The memory of that kiss acted like a balm on my soul. My heart slowed its frantic pace. I sat still. I composed my features. I was a King again.

A knock sounded on the door. The guard announced Thomas the Jester.

The door opened. Thomas stepped inside. He wore a suit of bells and mismatched fabric. He did not look like a fool. He looked like a man who watched everything. He bowed low.

"Your Majesty calls for a laugh?" Thomas asked. His voice was light.

"I call for a favor." I said.

I stood up and walked toward him. "Last night, I committed an error. I offended the Chief Royal Chef. She is angry. She is hurt. I need to appease her."

Thomas tilted his head. The bells on his cap jingled.

"The ghost chef. I have heard the whispers. They say she makes food that makes men weep. They say she came from the sky."

"She is a woman." I said.

My voice was firm.

"A woman who deserves better than a drunken Alpha." I added.

"I want you to put up a show tonight. Not for me. For her. I want you to perform in the kitchen gardens. Use your best tricks. Use your fire and your stories. Make her smile, Thomas. If she smiles, I will reward you."

Thomas smiled.

"I am a jester, Alpha. My job is to please the King. If the King is pleased by the happiness of the chef, then I will perform. I have wanted to meet this woman in person. I will prepare the show."

"Go then." I said.

"Start your preparations. I want the air to feel light tonight."

Thomas bowed again and left the room. I felt a small weight lift from my chest. I could not face her yet. My shame was too great. But I could send her joy.

I thought about Elara's words. She had used my mother's name as a weapon. She said I no longer cared for revenge. She said my mother's killers walked free. The words burned in my mind.

I sent for Eunuch George. He was my messenger. He was a man of shadows and secrets.

He entered the room with soft steps.

"George." I said. "I have a task for you. It is a matter of blood and memory."

George bowed. "Command me, Alpha."

"Go to the secret archives." I told him.

"Search for my late mother's last draft. She was writing to me before she died. She was writing about the snakes in this court. I need to know what she expected me to do to her killers."

George's eyes widened. "That draft was lost, Your Majesty. Many believe it was burned."

"It was not burned." I said.

I felt the rage return.

"My father hid it. Find it. Bring it to me. I will not have her blood crying from the ground while I sit on a throne of lies."

George nodded. He turned and disappeared into the hallway.

I looked at the window. The sun was setting. The sky looked like a bruise.

I felt a sudden lack of appetite. The thought of meat and wine made my stomach turn.

I felt a different kind of hunger. A hunger for the woman I had insulted.

I called for the Chief Guard.

"Go to the royal kitchen." I commanded. "Tell them I am not interested in having my evening meal. I will not eat tonight."

The guard looked surprised. "But Alpha, the Chef has prepared..."

"I said I will not eat." I cut him short.

"Tell her the King is not hungry. Tell her I will fast until the morning."

I watched the guard leave.

I turned back to the window.

I knew Sophie would hear the message. She would think I was still the tyrant. She would think I was being difficult.

But the truth was simpler. I could not stomach a single bite of food prepared by her hands while she looked at me with venom.

I would go hungry. I would feel the void in my stomach just as I felt the void in my heart. If she was angry, the King would starve.

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