The Alpha King Marked Me. I Still Haven't Told Him I'm A Girl-Chapter 152: Extra - s (Valka & Lucien) III

Valka

Toes wobbling on the ladder, I reach for the top section of the shelf to take the book of bawdy tales. My fingertips stop just shy of the wood. Groaning, I reach even higher, ignoring the ladder’s squeal. Just as my hands finally reach the book’s spine, the ladder tips sideways and I fall with a yelp.

But I land against something solid. Warm. Unyielding. Breathing.

Strong arms lock around my waist, one bracing my back, the other secure around my thighs as he steadies me effortlessly. My breath snags as my eyes lift.

Violet. Bright. Heavy with mischief. And far too close. "How quaint," Lucien murmurs softly.

My pulse trips all over itself. I’m still suspended against him, his fingers splayed hot along my skin like they were meant to be there.

He isn’t letting go. And I--I’m not exactly trying to move.

He scans my face for what stretches longer than mere seconds, taking in the rough braid tumbling down my left shoulder, the low neckline of the deep green dress and the cinched corset that pushes up the swell of my breasts. Then his attention flickers to my mouth for another brief second and his chest seems to still.

The look in his eyes is enough to steal all the air from the room. Heat curls low in my belly.

I clear my throat, but it comes out breathless. "Put me down."

"Should I?" His grip tightens just slightly. "You fall quite interestingly. Straight into me, as if you knew I’d be here. Though, I suppose it might have been rewarding to watch you break your frail neck."

I shove the book between us and whack him in the head with it. "Put. Me. Down."

He laughs softly, deeply and finally sets me down, though he does it so slowly my knees brush his as I slide to the floor. His hands linger a fraction too long at my waist before he steps back.

But his gaze doesn’t move.

"Next time," he says, eyes trailing over me, before jerking back up abruptly. But I caught him nonetheless. He was trying not to stare at my chest. Strange that. Every time I’ve been around him wholly naked, he barely looks below my face. But when I am dressed, he stares harder at everything. Suddenly, he sounds irritated. "Just ask for the book."

"Like you were around to ask," I mutter. "Where have you been?"

He turns his back to me, walking over to his desk and the piles after piles of books and abstract drawings and scrolls decorating the surface in neat arrangements. "Keeping tabs on my comings and goings now, are we? Careful. You might actually sound like you care."

I hear it for the insult it is. "Who’s to say I don’t?"

He settles into the chair at the head of the table and at the lack of another, refusing to returning to the couch by the shelf, I climb onto the table easily of the table and sit with my legs entwined.

Lucien pulls a sword out of gods know where and pokes my ass with the sharp point. "Get off my desk, Lyra. Better yet, out of my study. I have matters to attend, and you are a distraction."

Ah. He is no longer furious. This is the usual grumbling, the variety he adopted after years of tolerating my antics. I grin. I have learned I like irritating him. Very much.

I flop onto my stomach and do an exaggerated belly roll, sending half his scrolls cascading to the floor like startled geese. Then I prop my chin on my hands, kicking my legs lazily. "So," I say sweetly. "What monumental royal task burdens you today, Your Royal Grumpiness?"

He growls in frustration but chooses to ignore me as he unrolls the first scroll. I pluck it straight out of his grasp, lurching to my feet on the desk as I read it aloud, darting out of his reach.

"The Blackspire Province keeps growing unchecked, expanding in their reach and territory by taking the riches of the people and filling their personal coffers. If something will not be done about them, then there will be an increased number of break outs in the next couple of weeks."

I squint dramatically. "This one’s easy--"

"Give me that," he snarls, ripping it back. He reaches for another. I reach faster.

"Ah!" I shriek in delight. "This is my favorite already."

Lucien freezes. "Do not--"

"--your subjects are greatly distressed by your refusal to wed. Oh, look! They even provided you a lovely list. ’The most beautiful,’ ’the untouched,’ ’the most fertile’--oh saints above--’women with robust childbearing hips and bosoms ample enough to nurse a kingdom.’ Your royal duties are truly arduous. How ever shall you bear the burden of so many eager women throwing themselves at your mighty feet? Poor you." I lean in. "Do you think if they knew you were in the business of abducting women and skinning them alive, they would still offer you their daughters?"

Lucien looks like he’s seconds away from biting my head off. His left eye twitches.

Dangerously.

In the next heartbeat, his hands clamp onto my waist and I’m ripped off the table. The room lurches as the world collapses into the violent circle of his body. The backs of my thighs slam against the desk. I’m forced to sit or fall, but even seated, there is no escape. His chest crushes the breath from me, his legs bracket mine like iron bars.

When he speaks, his voice is a raspy, shredded thing.

"I need you to stop."

"Stop stalking me."

His fingers dig into the desk on either side of my hips, wood creaking in protest.

"Stop watching me."

His breath shudders.

"Stop speaking to me as if you have any right. Stop messing with my head." He leans in closer, eyes dark with annoyance. "I need you to leave me the fuck alone."

The desk under me complains softly as his grip tightens. One wrong move and he’ll splinter it.

"This is the last warning I give you, Lyra," he says softly, the kind of quiet that comes before something catastrophic. "The very last one."

I swallow. "Then let me leave."