The Alpha King's Hated Slave
The Alpha King’s Hated Slave Chapter 182

Inside the inner bedroom of the King’s Chambers, a huge figure was seated at the floor of the Library, his head supported by the shelf behind him.

The King did not know how long he sat there…might have been since he dismissed Vetta in the morning. His back aches. His butt aches too.

They are nothing compared to the ache in his heart. If he doesn’t know better, he would say that he has developed a chest problem. He knows better, but the knowledge does not help.

The headache pounding the back of his head was too severe, he drank from the bottle of whiskey in his hand and lowered his head. The bottle empty, he dropped it beside the seven empty other bottles and picked up a new bottle.

He was tipsy, but he isn’t drunk. He never gets drunk and he hasn’t drank in years.

Not since his sixteen birthday when he got drunk and wasn’t able to protect Melia. She skinned her knee while playing, and cried her heart out.

The sound of her pained cries stayed with him for months, since then, he never tasted whiskey again.

Uncorking the bottle, he raised it high and drank half of it. He thought the drink will lessen the pain. Will make him forget.

He has never been more wrong in his life.

No, he has been. His judgement of Danika was wronger.

He should have known. She was too good to be true, he should have known it was all pretence.

She carries another man’s child inside her. That child nestled secretly inside her all the while she shared his bed.

The headache beat at his head, he dropped the bottle aside and got up. He walked out of the inner room to his wardrobe and pulled off his clothes, his head swimming.

Through his slightly blurred vision, he was able to make out his nightclothes which he extracted and threw it on.

Then, he turned and strode out of his bedroom. The silence of the night was soothing but not helpful. He arrived at his destination and knocked once on the door.

Vetta’s eyes sprang open at the sound of the knock on her day.

It was her victory day today but also a bad day for her. The way the King scolded her out of his bedroom, and the insistent pain on her belly.

When she’d used the bathroom this evening, b***d was mixed with her urine. She’d made a mental note to go back to Monah whenever she is able to.

Doesn’t matter though. Her plan worked! It’s her best day!

She giggled when she remembered Danika’s face after the King collar-shocked her. Sooooo sweet to see.

The knock. She rushed out of bed and pulled the door open. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw the King standing behind the door.

“My King!” She gasped, opening the door wider.

He entered, the smell of whiskey strong. Whiskey?

She frowned in confusion. The king never drinks. Ever. But, then, it’s obvious he’s been drinking. He doesn’t look drunk though.

“Take off your clothes and get to the table.” The command was hard, his eyes so cold she has never seen him look like that before.

Vetta’s hands shook slightly even as a sizzle of excitement raced through her. This is the man she has always wanted. The man she had before. The man Danika almost chased away to be replaced by a stranger who loves her.

She is glad her Lucien is back.

Locking the door, she pulled off her clothes and gave him her back. He took the lube on the table and prepped her with few jerky movements.

A surprised strangled scream tore from her throat when he shoved into her from behind, burying himself to the hilt.

Then, he began fūcking into her. He took her body ruthlessly, shoving in and out of her so roughly, she couldn’t control the pained cries that emerged from her lips.

“Ouch!” She cried when he bumped her cervix repeatedly, bottoming out inside her. Her eyes closed tight, she gripped the table for support as he thrust over and over again.

His thrusts were measured for pain and not for pleasure. It was punishing. Brutal.

He grabbed hold of her hair and yanked her back to meet the thrust of his h**s repeatedly, her scalp began burning with each yank. His hand slapped her ãss repeatedly and at the same time, he reached for her breast pinching her so hard, she saw red.

“Oh…!” She gritted her teeth at the excruciating sensations he bombarded her with. It was much more pain than pleasure.

He was using her body as a hole for him to get off. For some reason, it sprang tears to her eyes.

It’s always like this before…but never like this either. She wanted this…but never like this.

“You’re h-hurting me… Lucien…!” Her hands shot out behind her to his waist to try and steady him, but he flinched under her touch. He practically recoiled from it.

His hand left her brêast and captured her both hands, he held them together at her lower back as he continued pounding her to the table. Her pelvis banged against the table with each thrust, hurting her immensely.

His g****s emitted repeatedly from behind her, it vibrated from his chest as he savaged her brutally. Jerkily, he pulled out from her.

Using his free hand, he spread her ãss-cheeks with his fingers and shoved into her ãss without prepping her.

Vetta lowered her head on the table and screamed, her body shook under the brutality.

Several minutes later, she laid curled up on the floor, her eyes following his movement as he tugged himself in and turned towards the door.

She watched him leave without a backward glance, her body feeling like one big wound. The pain in her belly worsened.

This is not the man that pulled his people out of slavery. This is not the man that made her his mistress….no, that one cared about her in his own way.

This is not her King Lucien. It’s worse.

This question prickled the back of her mind. Who is this man that smelled of whiskey and used her body so ruthlessly?

Who is this man?