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Beatrice stared at the three women shamelessly draped over her husband, but she did not flinch. Years of living with Elijah had taught her that showing weakness only fed the beast that dwelled within him.

"Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to speak to the Alpha king." Beatrice deliberately avoided the word "husband." That title had lost all meaning a long time ago. Except when maintaining appearances in public, Elijah was nothing more than a stranger she shared a house with.

The girls, however, did not move. Instead, they laughed as if Beatrice’s words were the punchline to a joke.

Elijah had brought them into her home with impunity, making it clear she held no authority and hence showed her no respect.

Beatrice’s face burned red, however, that was only for a moment before her mask was firmly back in place.

"Oh, come now, my love," Elijah drawled lazily, addressing her like a lover who had interrupted his fun. "Don’t be such a party pooper. The fun’s only begun."

"I came here to speak with you, not to witness your latest indulgence." Beatrice said coldly.

"Fine." Elijah groaned with mock exasperation before turning to the women. "You heard your Luna. Time to leave. We need to have an ’interesting conversation,’" he added with a wink that dripped with innuendo.

"Of course, Luna," one woman purred.

They giggled mockingly, finding the idea of Elijah being with Beatrice laughable. In their eyes, she was too rigid and cold to interest him. Little did they know, in the early days—before Beatrice had discovered Elijah was not the man she thought she knew—their passion had once been unstoppable.

"Move along, darlings, or I might have to punish you," Elijah teased, smacking one woman’s backside when she wasn’t fast enough.

The girl gasped with mock surprise before laughing and gathering their scattered clothes. None of the women bothered to dress, strolling confidently from the room. What was the use? Whether naked or clothed, everyone in the pack knew their Alpha’s appetite.

With Elijah now left, he sat up, the sheet falling to reveal his battle-scarred chest and taut muscles.

Despite his early fifties, his werewolf genes kept him looking like a man in his prime with his dark wavy hair, charming green eyes, and a smile that had seduced and lied more times than she could count.

His muscles flexed as he folded his arm behind him, a little dusting of hair in his armpits.

If there was anyone who looked older, it was Beatrice considering she was human and did not possess werewolves special anti-aging gene. Yet, that didn’t diminish the fact the woman was a great beauty especially with her exotic hazel eyes.

"What is it, wife?" Elijah taunted. "What pressing matter has you storming in so early?"

But it turned out Beatrice has had enough because she bit back with a saccharine smile, "You do know sticking your prick into every hole isn’t going to give you an heir. You’re impotent darling, or have you forgotten?"

The smirk vanished from Elijah’s face. In a blink, he was in front of her with a speed only a werewolf was capable of, his eyes blazing with fury. Though she flinched, Beatrice held her ground.

"Go on, hit me." She goaded him. "Come on, what are you waiting for? Do it?"

Elijah’s snarl rumbled deep in his chest, but her unwavering gaze stalled him. He took a step back, smile returning as if the outburst had never happened.

"Why would I harm my precious wife? Only monsters hit their women," he said with mock innocence.

True to his words, Elijah had never hit her, but then his punishments were worse than any physical pain. He relished playing games that would break even the strongest of minds. And yes, she has lived with the monster for years.

"Of course not, hitting is beneath you. You simply find your opponent’s weak point and strike when they least expect it and where it hurts the most."

Instead of Elijah feeling offended at that summary, he said delightfully. "How well you know me. No wonder you’re my wife."

He caressed her cheek as though she were something precious, though his actions betrayed the sentiment.

"You’re hurt, I know. But you must understand that I have to keep sowing seeds. You never know which one would bear my heir." He gave his excuse for cheating.

But Beatrice did not buy it, saying instead, "No, that’s simply your justification for cheating and disrespecting me.

You already agreed that one of the boys would be your heir.

Right now, their parents have been wanting to see you for three days.

Three fucking days, Elijah! They haven’t left, but what did you do?

You ignore them. You neglect your people! "

"You mean the same people who went behind my back to create powerful heirs that would topple my government? Is that the same people you are talking about?! "

Elijah yelled at her, his eyes flashing with anger.

"The parents are to blame, not the children. Not innocent pack members. There must be trouble if they’re here to see you. Hear them out first." Beatrice demanded.

"Fine, I’ll help them." Elijah finally agreed and Beatrice was close to breathing in relief when he added, "But on a condition, of course."

"What do you want?" she asked warily.

A glint of amusement danced in Elijah’s eyes. His fingers traced the hollow of her throat, making her shudder with revulsion.

"It’s been too long since I’ve enjoyed my wife’s touch," he whispered. "Do this for me, and I’ll grant them their audience. What do you say, my queen?

Beatrice was tempted to tell him to rot in the deepest hell, but she knew the level of Elijah’s cruelty and how the innocent would only suffer his cruelty.

"Fine," She spat. "Let’s get this over with."

Elijah’s smile was pure victory. "On your knees, then, my love. Worship your king."

Beatrice did just that, and in mere minutes, Elijah had his eyes closed and head lulled back in pleasure as his wife serviced him.