Alpha's Cruel Addiction

Chapter 18 Are You Cold?

The wealthy man was not human. Ophelia could tell at first glance. He sat high in the balconies in a golden chair, surrounded by armed knights who appeared to be werewolves. She could barely see his features, for the chandelier lights blinded her the higher she looked, as if he was the Sun.

What caught Ophelia's attention was not the people around him. His appearance made her part her mouth. His features were breathtaking. He scrutinized her with an unreadable expression.

Was it humor on his face? Irritation? She couldn't tell. His full attention was on her. He rested on a golden chair reserved for the most important guest. Ophelia would know, she'd heard rumors of that seat always being empty, but still polished on the rare occasion he finally showed up.

"100 million gold coins, going o-once," the announcer stumbled over his words, his eyes shaking with the amount. That much money could purchase an entire kingdom!

"T-twice… and sol—"

A thunderous growl filled the air.

Ophelia's knees went weak, nearly folding underneath her. She barely managed to stay upright. The sound was furious enough to rattle the walls. The chandelier lights were too bright here to see who else was hidden on the ground floor. Three figures emerged from the shadows, revealing a pitch-darkness that she hadn't realized previously.

"Get my mate off the damn stage!"

Now, that was Killorn. Ophelia would recognize the fury in his tone anywhere. The roughness of his speech sent everyone flinching in their chairs. She saw the man on the balcony rise to his feet, his arrogant expression dimming. She briefly glanced at his eyes, his brows shooting upwards. Immediately, he held up a hand.

"150 million," the man countered, his face going dark.

Killorn didn't wait for the announcer. He stormed up to the stage, his footsteps filled with danger. Everyone quickly backed away, unable to match his presence.

"Sir, you can't just—"

"I-it's Alpha Mavez!" someone cried out in horror, dashing up from their seats to run, but was caught by the locked entrance.

"What? Alpha Mavez?" another gasped out in sheer fear as he rushed to run for his life.

The second Alpha Mavez showed up, they knew he'd leave no survivors. The Forest of Blood incident demonstrated how cruel this man could be when pushed into a corner. No one could justify his actions, but some saw his motivations.

"You should've stayed put," Killorn said to her the second he saw her.

Killorn grabbed her arm and tugged Ophelia closer, his expression furious at the sight of her cuffs and chains. She stared up at him helpless and overwhelmed with emotions. He was livid.

No, he was beyond the point of no return. It was the kind of fury that tore a man to shreds. The atmosphere was icy and thick. People could barely breathe—no one had the audacity to.

Ophelia dared to suck in trembling air. His scent hit her like a wave. He smelled like what she envisioned heaven to be, but his face was fiercer than the depths of hell.

Above all, Ophelia was dizzy by his words. Mate. What was that? She didn't know what all of this meant. Neil's words continued to ring in her ears, a taunt from the cruelest pits of hell.

Ophelia Eves' blood was off-limits.

The announcer scrambled for the security. "S-someone get him off that stage—"

"You dare?" Killorn's thick voice was barely above a whisper. He was the tranquil ripple in the ocean before a tsunami claimed lives. He was the droplet on a leaf before it thundered.

Perhaps what was more frightening wasn't his reputation or his large build, it was how calm he was. His tone was like an icy death and no one was a willing victim.

Killorn slid a palm over her lowerback, his grip filled with possession. Within seconds, he yanked off his cape and placed it around her. He fastened the hood and grabbed her wrist.

"200 million gold coins!"

Killorn paused. He simply raised his head. "Come and get her then."

People nearly coughed out blood.

W-what did this man just say?

The man on the throne staggered back, almost in disbelief. "Okay, I will—"

"—if you want your head to decorate my gates and your limbs on my walls," Killorn finished.

"N-nevermind then, you crazy—" he cut himself off at Killorn's narrowed eyes.

What terrified the audience more was how composed Killorn was for a man who trespassed the stage of the most famed auction house of the empire. The auction house was protected by the Royal Family, but that didn't seem to faze the stranger. Even now, they didn't recognize him.

Ophelia wondered if they were pretending to not know him. If that was true, then it meant one thing—Killorn didn't go back to the empire to claim his victory. If Killorn had done so, every person on the continent would know his name more than they already recognized him as the most fearsome Alpha.

Killorn had made history. He'd go down in papers for centuries and millennials. And Ophelia? She would be forgotten, her name wouldn't even be uttered.

Ophelia would never know what to say to Killorn. She still didn't.

"Come," Killorn guided her down the stage. Everyone quickly scrambled backward, even the armed guards.

No one dared to get in his way.

Why?

Ophelia didn't know. She could only see his dark expression, his eyes glowing golden as the sun. And that was when she knew.

Amongst the sea of red eyes, glowing yellow ones, and human gazes, only his stood out. His honey skin was paler than she last remembered, but he was still massive and taller than any man she had seen. He was what nightmares were made out of, his stature the dream of every man alike.

"Who is that man?"

Whispers one after the other filled the room.

"None of you would survive to know it, anyway," another voice spoke from the darkness.

Ophelia's head snapped to the sidelines to see two men kick themselves off the back walls. They straightened up just as Killorn brushed past them. She didn't know what they meant until the doors were shut.

"Are you cold?" His tone was dark and dangerous. She didn't dare to speak.

Ophelia was greeted by the frigid wind. She had nearly missed the feeling of the moonlight on her skin. She had forgotten what it was like to breathe fresh air. The breeze tugged at her hair and she flinched at the foreign contact.

"You won't be shivering for long."

Huh?

Ophelia glanced left and right. Suddenly, she heard a wretched scream behind her. People shrieked and yelled like pigs for slaughter. She turned her head and gasped.

Flames engulfed the entire building. Windows shattered. The wooden structure was lit up like a Christmas tree. People scrambled to get out, but growls emerged from the shadows. She heard banging and yelling, but it was no use.

No amount of superhuman strength could get the werewolves out of there. Not even the vampires' speed allowed them to run fast enough. Where could they go when all the windows, exits, and doors were jammed shut with thick iron bars? What could the humans do except be the first to be burnt alive?

Ophelia watched as fire lit up her eyes. She stared as everything burned to the ground.

"See?" Killorn slid an arm around her and tugged her closer. "Your personal fireplace."

Crazy. That was what Ophelia noted about him.

"HELP US!" they shrieked in fear.

"Someone!"

Ophelia staggered backward. A strange smell surfaced in the air, shooting straight to her nostrils. She gasped out, finally understanding what one of the men meant. No one would survive to know who attacked them today.

When the sun rose in the sky, there would be nothing but ashes. Every person present would've died. The women included.

"Come, my lovely wife."

Ophelia didn't.

Ophelia dug her feet into the ground. She didn't even know what to say to him. He had finally come to save her, but it was too late. Far, FAR too late.

All sorts of emotions went through her. Relief. Joy. Appreciation.

Killorn bent his head. He grabbed her wrist. With just a firm squeeze of his brute hand, he snapped the chains. The metal cuffs weighed down her weak wrist.

Even so, Ophelia had the guts to do it.

"Ophelia—"

PAK!

Ophelia smacked him across the face.