The Witch and Her Four Dangerous Alphas

Chapter 41: Chapter 41: The Breaking Point

This Chapter contains mature and sensitive content, including scenes of psychological distress. These elements are integral to the characters’ journeys and the dark themes of the story, but they may be triggering or uncomfortable for some readers.

Please read at your own discretion.

If you are uncomfortable directly proceed with Chapter 46.

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Lucian’s POV ~

She turned her face away from me.

That one small movement. That one deliberate, shattering act... it broke something inside me.

As if I was filth. As if my touch would smear dirt on her body.

And she is some untouchable goddess who couldn’t bear to be tainted by someone like me.

My chest rose and fell with erratic breath. I stared down at her tear-streaked face, and all I could feel was heat boiling in my veins. Rage, shame, need all of them twisted inside me at once.

She wasn’t supposed to cry for him. Did he matter to her so much?

She wasn’t supposed to look at me like I was the monster...like I had stolen something sacred.

My fingers dug into her chin again, forcing her to look at me. "Look at me, damn you," I hissed, my voice barely human. "You don’t get to look away from me."

Her lips trembled, but her goddamn eyes still refused to meet mine.

her like this. All my reasoning was gone, and before I realized it...

to be gentle. It was anger — the rage boiling inside me

to

beneath me, her muffled whimpers only fueling the madness burning through me. But I still wasn’t done... I wanted

mine. Her already flimsy gown had ridden up past her stomach, leaving her bare beneath me, with only a

her close enough, I could make her understand... what she had

But it wasn’t enough.

Nothing was enough.

its own, roaming up the curve of her waist, tracing the softness of skin I had once only dreamed of touching. Every

every line like it could somehow erase the memories that haunted me. As if knowing her body

to feel this. To feel

I’d carried, buried under every shift of the

maddening. My palm brushed over her breast, hesitant only for a second before I gripped

Still... it wasn’t enough.

matter how close I held her, no matter how bare she was beneath me,

trembled beneath

fear. From confusion. From

me burned. Her legs tensed beneath my grip, trying to shift, trying to

writhed beneath mine, soft and desperate,

muffled cries. Her head turned to the side again, refusing to meet my eyes, her hair clinging to her

trembled like a fragile thread about to snap. Her chest heaved against me, and when I kneaded her breast, she let out a strangled sob, biting her lip

I should have stopped.

I should

I