Help! Five Beast Alphas Want To Breed Me!!(BL)-Chapter 288: I Won’t

Igma💙;

I cannot sit.

The throne behind me feels wrong.

It’s too large... Too heavy and too... intimidating. Like it’s waiting for me to fail so it can swallow me whole.

Not once did I ever think a time would come when I’d have to sit on it. Since King Wilhelm made me the kingdom’s stand in ruller, I never let myself sit on the throne. I couldn’t dare.

I can’t even bring myself to stare at it for long. It’s a fucking burden on my shoulder, and I’m eagerly waiting for King Wilhelm to return and take this burden off me.

However, the throne right now, as impending as it seems, is the least of my worries.

I pace back and forth across the throne room with my boots padding a bit too loudly against the floor, and my heart thudding much louder.

Every step sends a tremor up my legs, but stopping feels worse. If I stop, I might spiral again, and for Howleroot’s sake, I have to keep it together.

I’m already under so much pressure I can’t tell if this is just my anxiety talking or if there’s truly something I should be worried about.

Something is wrong.

Not here. Not in Howleroot. Not in a way I can point to or name.

But this troubling feeling is much deeper than thoughts. It feels like a choking, unnerving warning I don’t know how to translate.

"Igma," My Father who’s been watching me for the past few minutes, says gently from behind me.

"You’re going to make yourself sick." He whispers, but I don’t answer.

My hand comes up to my chest instead, fingers curling into the fabric over my heart as if I can yank out the heaviness there and crush it under my boot. I wish I could.

But, I fucking can’t!!

"Igma," he tries again, closer this time.

"Please sit, my dear. Breathe..." He pleads and I finally turn to him.

"I can’t, Father" I whisper, and he blinks at me.

"I can not bring myself to feel any semblance of peace and with every passing day this... feeling grows! So, no. I can’t sit, Pá. Nor can I... breathe." I add, and he sighs— the sound heavy with worry.

I hate that I’m doing this to him, butI hate it more that I feel like I’m drowning on dry land.

"This is not just nerves, Father," I speak calmer this time as I start pacing again.

"It’s not stressful either. This isn’t because King Wilhelm left me in charge, so don’t tell me it’s that." I add as I turn my back on him, and I feel his gaze on my back.

"Then what is it, Igma?" he asks carefully, and I swallow.

My gaze drops to my fingers which are now weaving and unweaving together.

"It feels like... like something is tearing at me from the inside. Like someone I—" My voice fades, and I grit my teeth as I force the words out of my mind and the thought down in my mind.

"Like someone I love is hurting," I whisper, and words barely leave my mouth when the doors to the hall suddenly swing open.

The echo rushes into my spine, and I quickly straighten up.

I don’t have to turn around to know who just walked in. My body already knows. My shoulders stiffen as an instant response, and my heartbeat stutters.

I can identify her aura from my sleep! The same woman whose footsteps, aura, scent, and presence I forced myself to master do as to be able to break a few of her rules.

Alpha Liandria.

Her presence fills the room before her voice even does, and as expected, fear and anxiety well inside me.

I slowly turn around and find my father trembling at the sight of his sister. It breaks me.

His gaze drops to the ground and his shoulders incline— his body’s subconscious effort to look small.

I step forward in subconscious defensiveness of him, and Alpha Liandria’s steps slow down because she notices this.

What is it that she doesn’t notice?

She’s dressed in a velvet wine dress that pools around her feet and drags after her as she walks.

Her beautiful silver hair has been held up in a majestic bun, and her skin is glowing elegantly as if it drank some of the morning sun.

One thing I have never quite been able to wrap my head around is how terrifyingly grateful this woman is.

Although she’s evil incarnate, she is undoubtedly beautiful. The kind of grace and beauty that makes me understand why evil sometimes is attractive.

"Igma, darling... How are you?" She questions in an alarmingly soft voice.

Alpha Liandria does not speak with softness... or kindness. No, my aunt speaks with quiet authority. The kind where she doesn’t need to raise her voice. She usually speaks with a tone cold and sharp enough to pierce into your bones so what...

What is h thi is sudden, foreign tenderness to her voice?

"You look like a storm trapped in flesh." She speaks again, stopping beside Father, and I force myself to gather my thoughts.

My eyes are distracted by the silver threading in her dress that catches the light.

She is calm. Composed. Untouchable... Everything I am not right now, and I hate it. Because how do I face a person who is currently in a better space than me mentally?

An advantage I’m sure she would use to unravel me.

"I’m fine," I reply quickly, as my head bows respectfully, and her eyes flick over me— sharp and assessing.

She’s going to see right through me. That look of here’s is what always comes before she tells me my secrets like I’m a map she drafted herself.

"No," she says, and I hold my breath. "You’re not." She adds, as she steps closer, and I shut my eyes.

I listen to her walk even closer to me. Each step is measured, deliberate, like she’s closing in on prey.

And as shameful as it is, I find myself fighting the urge to step back. I refuse to look weak in front of her. I will not cower.

Father shifts beside me, but he doesn’t dare say a word.

"I can see you’re worried, Igma." Aunt Liandria deals again as she stops in front of me. Close enough for me to smell her, and far enough for me to at least breathe.

"Why?" she probes further, and I look away.

"I said I’m fine," I reply firmer this time, and my words are followed by silence..

Then she steps closer, invading my personal space now.

"Igma, raised you like a daughter for years," She says quietly, and I lift my eyes up to stare into her shocking calm, and... open grey eyes.

"I know when you’re lying, Igma. Don’t insult me." She then whispers with a smile that causes my throat to tighten.

I hate this. I hate how easily she strips me bare with her eyes alone.

Yet, that twisted familiarity is something I can not run from. She’s right.

She did raise me... Horribly as she did, she did raise me.

She takes my hands in hers and squeezes gently. This causes my jaw to drop.

"Talk to me Igma." She pleads and I look over at my father.

He nods softly to me, and I sigh.

"I just... have a bad feeling," I admit at last, and her head tilts.

"Go on."

"It’s not new," I whisper.

"But it’s getting worse. Deeper. Like it’s not even mine. Like it’s echoing through me from somewhere else." I add, as I take a hand out of hers and press it against my ribs.

"It feels like someone I care about is in danger." Whisper solemnly, and her gaze sharpens.

"Someone? Or are you this worried because your heart tells you it’s your mate?" She says, and the words hit me like a blade.

My head snaps up. My heart slams to a stop, and my eyes grow wide. Even Father inhales sharply beside me, in fear.

"You—" My voice cracks. "You know?" I stutter in panic, and her lips curve into a knowing smile.

"I’ve always known," she says calmly, and this time my heart stops.

SHE’S ALWAYS KNOWN!??

"I simply chose not to interfere." She adds, and my chest feels too tight to breathe.

"H-how??" I whisper, wondering how she was able to discover something I thought I hid perfectly.

"Love leaves marks," she replies.

"And you’ve never been subtle." She adds with a small smile, and my jaw drops.

"This fear you’re feeling... I think it’s your mate reaching out to you through your bond. Alana might be in trouble." She says in a now serious tone, andI swallow.

I hate to admit that I feel she’s right. Something is wrong. I know it is. And I’ve been hoping with everything in me that it wasn’t Alana.

"It won’t leave me alone. Every moment I’m here feels like betrayal. Like she needs me and I’m standing on stone pretending nothing is wrong." I whisper— my vision blurs, and from the side of my eyes, I see Father take a small, timid step towards me.

"I don’t have proof," I say hoarsely.

"No messages. No signs. Just this feeling in my bones that something is hunting her." I add, and Aunt Liandria studies me for a long moment.

Then she places a hand on my shoulder. The touch is somewhat grounding. Heavy.

"I won’t let anything happen to your bunny. I promise." She says, and my heart stops.

Huh??