Defy The Alpha(s) - Chapter 685
Chapter 685: Her New Place
Queen Seraphira jolted awake with a gasp, her chest heaving as she shot upright in bed. Her heart was racing, her blood still pumping with the adrenaline of nearly killing that bastard.
How dare he? How dare he mock her restraint and mistake it for weakness? Just because she had chosen peace did not mean she was incapable of war. He was lucky tonight because he won’t be the next time they meet.
A sudden cough broke through the Queen’s fury. Then another and another and harder now, rattling through her chest.
Seraphira leaned forward, hand clutched over her mouth until the cough finally ended. Then she slowly pulled her hand away, and her eyes widened at what she saw.
Her eyes widened because a bright smear of red glistened in her palm.
It was blood.
Queen Seraphira stared at it in stunned silence.
“What the hell…?” She whispered, shocked.
Then she pushed herself off the bed, determined to stand but the moment her feet touched the cold floor, her world tilted.
A low, dizzy hum filled her ears and the room spun. She reached for the bed post and missed it by inches.
To be honest, Seraphira had no idea what happened except the ground rushed up faster than she could catch herself. Just like that, the Queen collapsed onto the floor with a heavy thud.
At once, the door to her chambers swung open, as if the sentient palace had sensed the Queen’s distress. At the same time, Seraphira’s eyes fluttered shut, her body sinking fully into unconsciousness.
———–
Hannah followed after Taryn, keeping a very safe—and very intentional—distance between them. He claimed he was taking her to her resting chambers, but with the night she’d had, she prayed to God he wasn’t secretly leading her to some dark corner to murder her.
Of course she was joking. Mostly.
But something deep in Hannah’s gut whispered that if he did decide to kill her, it wouldn’t be beyond him. The man looked like he enjoyed violence the same way some men enjoyed breakfast.
As they walked through the hallway, Hannah found herself glancing around. The palace was beautiful but the statues lining the walls were another story entirely.
After her experience with Taryn, she knew very well they weren’t actually statues. They were shifters, frozen in stillness, watching her. She could feel their eyes on her, tracking every breath she took. Goosebumps erupted along her arms.
“Creepy bastards,” she muttered under her breath.
Lost in her thoughts, Hannah didn’t notice that Taryn had stopped walking.
She walked straight into his back.
Her nose bounced off rock-solid muscle, and she stumbled backward with a small yelp. When she lifted her gaze, Taryn was glaring at her as usual.
Hannah rolled her eyes. “Oh, for goodness sake. Do you have any other expression aside from glaring at me?”
She lifted her fingers and dramatically pulled the corners of her own eyes down, mimicking his perpetual scowl. “You look like happiness personally offended you.”
Taryn said nothing. He just kept glaring at her with that same stone-carved expression he seemed born with. Honestly, at this point Hannah was convinced his face was stuck that way.
He stepped forward and stopped before a tall white door. “We’re here.”
Hannah blinked, then approached the door cautiously. Except she couldn’t find a handle. There was not a knob nor a latch, just smooth, annoyingly perfect wood.
She shot Taryn a confused look. “How do I open this?”
Taryn shrugged, utterly unbothered. “What do you think?”
Hannah scowled. The universe must be punishing her with this Fae for all the bad things she’s done. That’s the only explanation.
Left with no other options, she planted her hands on the door and shoved her shoulder into it, hoping brute force might magically make it cooperate.
Except nothing happened.
She tried again and still nothing. The door didn’t even creak.
The third time, Hannah stepped back, inhaled deeply, and braced herself like a warrior charging into battle. She threw her whole weight forward— and the door swung open at the last second.
Her momentum betrayed her entirely. Hannah flew straight into the room and landed on the floor with a loud, dramatic thud.
“Urrrgh…” she groaned, sprawled out like a tragic pancake.
Behind her, a sound broke through the hallway.
It was laughter. A deep and rich shockingly beautiful laughter that belonged to a certain Fae.
Hannah pushed herself up and stared at him. The glorious, terrifying, and permanently scowling Taryn was actually laughing. And, Goddess help her, he was stunning when he did.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
Oh no.
No, no, no.
She was really out here crushing on bargain-bin Mufasa.
She was doomed.
Taryn stepped into the room after her, still wearing that irritating smirk from watching her crash-land like a sack of potatoes. He extended a hand toward her, wordlessly offering help.
Hannah slapped it away without hesitation.
“I don’t need your pity,” she said, scrambling to her feet and brushing imaginary dust off her clothes. She scowled at him. “Now tell me, how do you get that stupid door to open?”
Taryn crossed his arms, far too pleased with himself. “You command it. The house is sentient. It responds to intention.” He paused, letting that sink in. “Did I forget to mention it doesn’t like brute force?”
He laughed wickedly, and completely too satisfying for someone with his personality.
“That evil Mufasa,” Hannah muttered under her breath, glaring daggers at him.
Taryn ignored the insult with all the elegance of a predator who knew it still had the upper hand. “Anyway,” he said casually, “I hope you like this because there are no redesigning options for you.”
“What do you—” Then she actually looked around, and screamed.
Her room was pink.
It was not a soft nor boring pink. No. It was beautifully, delicately, and overwhelmingly pink.
There was soft rose-gold walls, blush-pink curtains embroidered, and velvety carpet the exact shade of sunset clouds. Even the ceiling glowed with a warm rosy hue, like dawn captured in a room.
It looked like a princess suite hand crafted just for her.