I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 108: I don’t lose

Malvoria was not amused.

She was not pleased, she was not calm, she was not handling this interruption well because she had been moments away—moments away—from completely ruining Elysia, from sinking her teeth into every defiant inch of her.

From making her gasp again and again until the only thing left in her mind was Malvoria's name and the way it tasted on her tongue, the way it burned in her throat, the way it was the only thing she would be capable of saying.

But no.

Instead, there was a knock at the door.

A second knock, no less, because apparently the first one hadn't been enough of an offense.

Malvoria took a slow, measured breath, still hovering over Elysia, still close enough to feel the warmth of her breath against her skin, still too close to be thinking rationally, too close to pretend she wasn't seconds away from ignoring whoever was on the other side of that door and doing whatever she pleased.

Another knock.

Malvoria's patience snapped.

"Who," she said, voice low and dangerous, "dares to interrupt me right now?"

There was a pause.

A long, hesitant pause.

Then a voice—clearly nervous, clearly regretting ever knocking in the first place.

"Your Majesty... it's just me—uh—Captain Valrik," the soldier said, voice cautious, measured, like a man who had just realized he might be about to die. "I—I was just here to remind you that you still have some reports to review before the night starts, and—"

Malvoria closed her eyes.

A muscle twitched in her jaw.

For the briefest moment, she considered getting up, storming over to the door, ripping it off its hinges, and hurling Valrik out of the nearest window just to make a point.

But she had a feeling that might be considered excessive.

Instead, she exhaled sharply and bit out, "I'll do it later."

Another pause.

A longer one.

Then, finally, a hesitant, "Understood, Your Majesty."

And then—at last—she heard the footsteps retreating.

Malvoria waited.

Waited until she heard them fade completely.

Waited until she was certain she was alone again.

And then she let her head drop forward with a groan, her forehead barely brushing Elysia's shoulder as she cursed the entire existence of her own kingdom.

Because this was absurd.

This was beyond absurd.

She was the Demon Queen.

The unrelenting, the merciless, the monstrous ruler feared across all lands, the conqueror, the unstoppable force of nature that brought empires to their knees.

And yet here she was.

Hovering over a human princess, trembling with frustration, internally arguing with herself like a damned teenager because—

Because.

Because of what?

Because Elysia looked so tempting beneath her?

Because she smelled too sweet, too soft, too maddening?

Because she was starting to feel like something Malvoria wanted—something Malvoria needed—when she was supposed to be nothing more than a tool, nothing more than a name on a contract, nothing more than a temporary possession that Malvoria should have already discarded?

No.

No, this was not acceptable.

Malvoria straightened slightly, scowling at herself, at the situation, at Elysia, at the entire fucking world.

This was getting dangerous.

This was getting reckless.

She had already allowed this to happen twice—once was an indulgence, twice was a mistake, but three times? Three times was a habit.

And Malvoria did not have habits.

She had control.

She had power.

She had ruthlessness.

She did not have weaknesses.

And Elysia—this girl, this princess, this defiant, infuriating, impossible human who had been fighting her since the moment they met, who looked at her like she wasn't a monster, like she wasn't someone to be feared, like she was something else entirely—

Elysia was starting to feel like a weakness.

And Malvoria did not allow weaknesses.

She had two options.

She could get up, walk away, regain control, return to her work, pretend like this never happened—

Or.

Or—

She could do what she wanted to do.

What she needed to do.

What she had been dying to do since the moment their lips had separated.

And fuck it.

Fuck it.

Malvoria made her choice.

And then—

She moved.

Quick, decisive, no more hesitation, no more doubt, no more overthinking—she just took.

Her lips crashed against Elysia's with fierce, unrestrained hunger, her body pressing fully, entirely against her, her fingers curling into the sheets beside Elysia's head as she swallowed the startled sound the princess made.

And this time—

This time, Malvoria didn't hold back.

She kissed her like she wanted to consume her, kissed her like she was trying to burn every hesitation out of her mind, kissed her like she was trying to erase the distance between them completely.

And Elysia—Elysia melted.

Malvoria felt it.

Felt the way Elysia's body went boneless beneath her, felt the way her fingers—those delicate, infuriating fingers that had been clutching the sheets just moments ago—slid up, up, up, until they were tangling in Malvoria's hair, pulling her closer instead of pushing her away.

Good.

That was good.

That was very, very good.

Malvoria groaned against her mouth, sliding a hand down, lower, gripping at her hip, pulling her into her as she deepened the kiss, as she let her tongue slide against Elysia's own, slow and deliberate and devastating.

And Elysia—gods—Elysia whimpered.

Malvoria felt it everywhere.

Felt it like a lightning strike down her spine, felt it like a fucking victory, a battle won, a war she had no intention of ending anytime soon.

She pulled back just enough to whisper, voice dark and smooth, "You should know by now, princess..."

Elysia shivered.

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Malvoria's lips brushed against her jaw, her throat, her pulse—a slow, deliberate tease.

"I don't lose," Malvoria finished, smirking against her skin before diving back in, claiming her mouth again, taking, devouring, branding.

She had made her choice.

And now—

There was no turning back.

Malvoria didn't give Elysia a chance to breathe, didn't give her a moment to think, to protest, to do anything but feel—because gods, Malvoria needed this, needed to drown in her, needed to taste the soft, quiet gasps against her lips, the way Elysia's fingers tightened in her hair, the way her body arched ever so slightly as Malvoria pinned her down completely.

She was supposed to be careful.

She was supposed to be distant.

She was supposed to be in control.

But right now, Malvoria didn't care about any of that.

She only cared about this.