Villainess Marked For Her Alpha Chapter 166: Ivory Wants Me to Eat as I Will Need All of My

I sat on the plush couch, fingers absently tracing the fresh marks blooming across my skin—Hellen’s possessive bite on my neck, Reyes’ deeper claim on my inner thigh.

A desperate ache pulsed through , but now it was Ivory’s turn. She moved in the kitchen with focused grace, her chili-sharp scent teasing the air. I’d dolled up for her in a sleek black wrap dress that hugged my curves, my raven hair swept into an elegant bun tied with silk ribbons, diamond earrings and necklace sparkling against my pale skin.

"You’ve really dolled up for ," Ivory called from the kitchen, her voice warm with approval.

I snarled playfully, adjusting my blindfold. "Yes, I have. But did you forget the woman who forced into this? The alpha who promised to make this evening classy?"

It had been two intense nights since the marking began—Hellen first, then Reyes. My body humd with their scents, but I was already craving Ivory’s touch.

"You’ve been doing good, Emily," she said, stepping close. Her lips brushed my cheek in a soft kiss, sending sparks down my spine. "Better than good."

"How long do I have to stay blindfolded?" I whined, shifting on the couch, the fabric of my dress whispering against my thighs.

"Well, unlike the others, I set the table perfectly. Everything’s ready." Her fingers grazed my arm, steadying .

"I can already feel that," I murmured, leaning into her touch despite myself.

"Emily, I want this to be special. Everyone had their ideas—Hellen’s raw passion, Reyes’ fierce protection. I have mine too. So, let’s enjoy, shall we?"

"You just want to mark like they did. So why all this?" I teased, though my pulse quickened at the thought.

"Well, unlike those two... I haven’t spent much ti with you. Not like this." Her voice softened, laced with sothing deeper.

"You barely even knew at first," I pointed out, smirking under the blindfold. "We did et late. But I know you like ."

Her chuckle was low, almost vulnerable. "Sotis, I get angry with you."

"Why?" I tilted my head, genuinely curious.

"Because a lot of alphas want you—throw themselves at you. It’s infuriating." A hint of growl edged her words.

"I’m sorry," I whispered, reaching out blindly until my fingers found her wrist.

"No, I should apologize. I think I need to coexist with them. I’d never want to share my future wife... but you need all the love you can get."

"Love?" My breath caught, heart stuttering.

"Yes, love. You need it all, Emily. You’re a wonderful human who’s changed us—changed —more than you know." Her thumb stroked my pulse point, soothing the sudden flutter.

Suddenly, I yelped as strong arms scooped up effortlessly. I wrapped my hands around her neck on instinct, legs dangling limp as she cradled bridal-style.

"Easy now, it’s ," Ivory murmured, her chili pheromones flaring protectively.

"You scared !" I gasped, clinging tighter, my breasts pressing against her chest through the thin dress.

"Sorry, princess." She nuzzled my temple, carrying smoothly.

"Well, it better be the last ti," I huffed, though I buried my face in her neck, inhaling her scent.

She chuckled again, lowering gently onto a chair that creaked softly under my weight. "Emily, I hope you enjoy this dinner. I’m sure you will."

With a flourish, she untied the blindfold. My erald eyes blinked against the soft glow—candles flickered on a beautifully set table draped in white linen, casting golden light over platters of seared steak in herb butter, creamy garlic mashed potatoes, roasted asparagus glistening with olive oil, and a bottle of deep red wine breathing nearby.

Crystal glasses sparkled, rose petals scattered artfully around the plates. It was intimate, luxurious—perfect.

"Ivory... this is stunning," I breathed, taking it all in. "You did all this?"

"Every bit. For you." She slid into the seat across from , pouring wine with steady hands, her police captain uniform traded for a crisp button-down that hugged her fra. "To us. To tonight." She clinked her glass against mine, eyes locking with heated promise.

We dug in, the steak lting on my tongue—juicy, dium-rare perfection with a char that exploded flavors. "God, this is incredible," I moaned around a bite, savoring the rich butter sauce. "Where did a cop learn to cook like this?"

"Secret talent," she grinned, spearing asparagus. "Keeps sane after long shifts. Try the potatoes—they’re laced with truffle oil." Her foot brushed my ankle under the table, a teasing graze that made shiver.

I laughed, sipping wine, the bold cabernet warming my veins. "You’re spoiling . What’s the catch?"

"No catch. Just want you relaxed... ready." As if on cue, her boot-clad foot slid higher, tracing slow circles along my calf through the dress slit. I bit my lip, fork pausing mid-air.

"Ivory..." I warned half-heartedly, but my thighs parted instinctively under the table.

"Tell if it’s too much," she murmured, her chili scent thickening as her toes nudged my knee, then higher, scratching lightly along my inner thigh—firm, deliberate strokes that sent heat pooling low. "You taste divine, by the way. Sweeter than this wine."

"You’re incorrigible," I gasped, squirming as her foot teased the hem of my dress, dipping under to caress bare skin. My core clenched, slick gathering despite the soreness from the others. "How am I supposed to eat like this?"

"Multi-task, princess." She leaned forward, eyes dark with hunger, her own foot now fully between my legs, arch pressing just shy of where I ached most. "Does it feel good? My marks are next—right here... or sowhere more dangerous area."

Her free hand gestured to my collarbone, but her foot scratched higher, toes dragging torturously along my sensitive skin.

"Y-yes," I whimpered, dropping my fork with a clink, gripping the table edge. Candles danced shadows across her face, making her look feral, possessive. "Ivory, please... dinner first?"

She relented with a smirk, withdrawing her foot but not before one last lingering stroke. "Fine. Eat up—you’ll need your strength." We finished amid more teasing brushes—her knee bumping mine, fingers ’accidentally’ grazing as she refilled my wine—building tension like a slow burn. By dessert, I was flushed, breathless, ready for her to claim fully.

"Ready for the main course?" she whispered finally, standing to pull into her arms.