CHAPTER 66: CHAPTER 66: THE NAKED WOMAN

IVAN’S POV

The Council knew about the Wrath Bond. To some level, they knew about my last public outburst — but the illusion had always been in selling that I was in control. That I was the one who commanded the feral shift, not that it commanded me.

The tempering spell made it seem even better.

But if they considered this a real threat, then that spelled trouble.

More than that, it danced dangerously close to unseating me from the throne and locking me up with the rest of the mad wolves.

"Fucking hell indeed," Francis chuckled. "With the rumors spreading around the pack like wildfire, I think the next step — even before honoring the Council’s invitation — is showing the people that you’re the opposite of the assumptions."

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "We can’t do that without knowing how the news got out. If their assumption is built on solid proof, we’d only fuel the speculations. This is a mess."

Francis looked uncomfortable. "I’d have the guards and maids questioned, but, Your Highness... I must ask. Did you maybe bump into anyone? Smell any stranger in the forest? Anyone at all?"

I thought hard. I remembered my actions during the outbursts, though I could rarely control them.

And even now, as I reflected on every moment, I knew I’d tried my damnedest to avoid the spots where the maids and guards were stationed, not trusting that I wouldn’t attack.

I’d only gone deeper and deeper into the woods, where no one would be found for miles. There was no way I’d bumped into anyone — or they’d be dead by now.

"Doubtful."

"Huh." His eyes were distant, a frown grazing over his face.

"You have a hunch." I paused. "Who is it?"

A light sound of a laugh escaped his lips as he scratched his neck.

"Well, there was only the five of us. I trust Revierre. I don’t trust Barty."

"And what about Maeve? Do you trust her?"

That frown crossed his face again, and he met my gaze with a wry smile.

"Do you?"

My heart skipped a beat — not expecting he’d turn this on me. Yet I managed to shrug, almost getting away with feigned nonchalance.

"I—well, I’m still deciding."

"I’d go with that too. For Maeve... I’m still deciding."

"Plus, she doesn’t know the real details of things. Whoever leaked this must have had access to either information or proof. Barty has both. Keep a close eye on him in your investigation."

"Sure." Francis laughed... nervously.

"In the meantime, I’ll deal with the council. We might need to instate Vance Montrose as High Council Chief soon — we need an insider on our side when it comes to those vultures." I began to walk past Francis, when he abruptly turned to ask,

"But is that a good idea? Instating Vance? You know... given how everything is with Serena right now. You might be crowning an enemy if... things fail with his daughter."

My brows furrowed at that. Vance was an old ally to my family — surely he’d understand.

"I’ll think about it. I’ll head over to my study now and draft up a letter as a first line of response to the council. Once it’s sealed, hand it over to Barty to pass along. Watch his reactions closely."

Francis nodded. "Good plan. Also, Ivan... are you okay?"

I paused, then threw him a weak, mostly forced smile.

"I will be."

We went our separate ways after that.

Once I had finished reading and drafting my letter to the council, I pressed the royal seal against the paper’s edge, locking it in place. And then, I had it sent over to Francis.

In my bedroom, steam still clung to my skin as I pushed the bathroom door open, toweling my hair with one hand.

The shower had taken the slightest edge off my mood—barely—but at least I didn’t feel like ripping myself apart in the most macabre form of punishment.

Then the scent hit me.

Light. Sugary. Aggressively feminine—the kind that was both nauseating and repulsive. I hadn’t invited anyone in before I’d gone into the bathroom.

My steps slowed, eyes locking on the strange woman sprawled across my bed.

She was naked. Absolutely, unapologetically naked. Like it was her goddess-given right.

I stopped dead, my brain taking a full two seconds to catch up.

"What the fuck..."

She giggled—actually giggled—like we were sharing some private joke.

Her fingers trailed lazily over her breasts, in what I assumed was supposed to be more inviting than repulsive, and then I saw it: Ivan’s Property—tattooed just above her left nipple, the skin still pink and tender from fresh ink.

Wait, what?

Her grin widened, locking on me like she’d just gifted me the world.

"Do you like it, Alpha?" Her voice was forced into a breathy, almost nasal tone—an embarrassingly poor attempt at sultry.

I didn’t fucking blink.

She tilted her head, voice dipping into faux innocence. "Oh, I mean the tattoo, not my tits. Though from the way you’re staring, I’m guessing you like both."

My jaw clenched, irritation surfacing alongside disgust. I walked past her without a word, straight to my wardrobe.

"Get out," I said flatly, yanking a shirt from its hanger.

Her giggle faltered into a pout. "Don’t you like it? I heard you love your women with fat, juicy tits... much like Lady Maeve’s."

That name.

I turned my head slowly, a low growl ripping from my chest as my next words came cold enough to bite.

"You have exactly ten seconds to get out of my sight."

She only smirked. "I like when an Alpha gets angry. It means he’s going to fuck me deep and hard and leave me wrecked." Her hand slipped between her thighs, a soft moan spilling out. "Aren’t you at least curious to know my name? Or who I am?"

"Five seconds," I said without looking at her, pulling the shirt over my head.

Truth was, I didn’t give a fuck. Not about who she was or why she’d dared to throw her life away so easily. But in the spirit of proving the rumors false, she might very well have four seconds to leave this room alive.

I was halfway lost in my own thoughts when her fingers ghosted across my back. She leaned close, her breath brushing my ear.

"I heard you’ve had a very stressful few days, my king. Allow me to serve you as your loyal subject. Let me suck the stress right out of you. I can make you feel good... better than Lady Serena. Better than Lady Maeve—"

She didn’t finish.

My hand shot out, claws slashing brutally across her throat.

Her eyes went wide as her hands flew up, blood spilling hot between her fingers. She staggered back, choking on her own breath.

And I liked it.

I liked the fear that stripped the playfulness from her gaze, the raw panic that clawed through her composure.

I loved the way it sated that rotten thing inside me that begged for blood. The cool it brought to the heat rising in my chest. The thrill of giving in to the madness.

My lips curled into a cold smile. "Get out."

She didn’t wait for me to repeat it. She bolted, bare feet slipping against the floor, leaving a trail of crimson in her wake.

I laughed then. Well, that was a problem—because a naked woman with a blood-soaked neck running out of the Alpha’s chambers was the kind of thing that made pack headlines.

But I’d have that settled when the questions came. And I knew they would.

I exhaled slowly, reeling my wolf back into its cage.

Maybe I could still convince Revierre to perform another tempering spell... though considering how I’d treated the old man last time, I’d have to offer a genuine apology.

Maybe even fund one of his endless, eccentric studies.

As for the girl—this wasn’t the most outrageous stunt I’d ever seen, but it was damn close. No one had ever entered my chambers uninvited and sprawled across my bed before. Well, except Serena.

My gaze slid to the mattress, and disgust twisted my lip. The sheets would have to go.

And whoever had let her in? They were finished. No one set foot in this wing without a royal permit.

I stripped the bed, tossing the sheets aside, when something small slipped from the mess—a permit, tucked near the pillow. Most certainly hers.

My frown deepened. Huh. So she did have a permit. But who ordered it?

Serena would sooner set herself on fire before she let another woman in here. Francis wouldn’t dare. I doubted the rest of the council cared about my sex life.

That left only one other person.

The door to my chambers slammed open.

My mother stepped inside, flabbergasted.

"Ivan Zachary Cross! Was that blood I just saw? I sent her to warm your bed, not die in it! The poor girl is shaking like a leaf and is in a critical condition! I raised you to be a respectable gentleman with a taste for finer things—not, not a brute who slashes the necks of innocent women trying to please their Alpha!"

For a moment, I was stunned by the sight of her—my mother was... walking. And not just walking. She looked better than she had since Father died.

There was some color to her cheeks, her legs were no longer swollen, and even her skin looked more radiant than it had in years.

Maeve was actually a healer—she... did this.

My mouth parted, closed, brows still shot up.

"Don’t you dare look at me like that," my mother continued, sweeping further into the room as if she owned every square inch of it. "Yes, I’m walking. Yes, I look better. Much to the disappointment of your insidious ex-wife, I must add. She tried to kill me, but it’d take hell to end my life! And speaking of lives, do you have any idea how hard it is to find women willing to risk Serena’s wrath and sleep with you?!"