The Witch and Her Four Dangerous Alphas

Chapter 41

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.


I could no longer tolerate her like this. All my reasoning was gone, and before I realized it... my

hers in a harsh, desperate, uninvited way, forcing my tongue past her lips. It wasn’t a kiss meant to be soft. It wasn’t meant to be gentle. It was anger — the rage

to feel what

muffled whimpers only fueling the madness burning through me. But I

hand gripped her thigh and clenched it hard enough to leave a mark, dragging her body flush against mine. Her already flimsy gown had ridden up past her stomach, leaving her bare beneath me, with only a single piece of fabric separating

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

But it wasn’t enough.

Nothing was enough.

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

collarbone, memorizing every line like it could somehow erase the memories that haunted me. As if knowing her body now could make

her to feel this. To

buried under every shift of the moon, every silent night

brushed over her breast, hesitant only for a second before I gripped it...not with tenderness, but with


Still... it wasn’t enough.

held her, no matter how bare she was beneath me, the space between us remained—aching, hollow, broken because of

beneath

From the weight of

Her legs tensed beneath my grip, trying to shift, trying to close—anything to shield herself. But

beneath mine, soft and desperate, and it only fed

Her head turned to the side again, refusing to meet my eyes, her hair

snap. Her chest heaved against me, and when I

I should have stopped.

knew I

I

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