Nine Hot Therians and Their Only One Queen novel Chapter 146

**When She Opened the Door to the Life She Was Afraid to Live by Nora Vale Kingsley**
**Chapter 146: Fifth Place and Breakfast Confessions**

The fifth? Marcus blinked in disbelief, his fingers moving instinctively as he counted, almost as if he were trying to verify a complex equation.

“Edric, Corvin, Silas… and me.”

He paused, realizing he was still at four.

Puzzled, he tried again, this time counting with exaggerated slowness, as if the numbers might suddenly rearrange themselves. But no, it was still four.

His gaze shifted to Emma, confusion knitting his brow into tight lines. “Ms. Tibarn, there are only three ahead of me, right? Did someone else arrive while I was dozing?”

He thought to himself, *There are only five of us left. Lucien has already formed a bond, which accounts for four. So how am I in fifth place?*

Emma’s expression remained impassive, not a single muscle in her face betraying any hint of emotion. “The fourth is Lucien. We haven’t officially bonded yet. I merely used Aurelia’s secret arts to create a temporary bond.”

Marcus felt his shoulders slump, as if he had just received disappointing news from the universe itself. “So… I really am fifth.”

He let out a soft huff, the sound laced with resignation. “Figures.”

Not that he had any real say in the situation. Arguing with his huntress was as futile as trying to catch smoke with his bare hands.

“Ms. Tibarn, if you don’t require anything else, I think I’ll head back to my room for a bit of rest.” He turned, his footsteps heavy as he made his way back, the faint chill surrounding him trailing like a ghostly fog.

Moments later, Silas appeared, freshly changed, his hair still damp and his uniform crisp and immaculate. He caught sight of Marcus retreating and then turned his attention to Emma. “Leave him be. He’s not on the verge of death.”

After all, the only hope anyone clung to now was that he wouldn’t attempt another reckless stunt.

Emma’s gaze drifted over Silas, taking in the sight of him. Today, it wasn’t his command gear he wore; instead, he donned the Empire’s standard military uniform—an ensemble of silver-gray that exuded an air of quiet power and precision. The fabric clung to his shoulders perfectly, and the star on his epaulet caught the light with a brilliance that could have graced a recruitment advertisement. Even the way his collar sat, crisp and sharp, drew her eyes to the steady line of his throat, an unintentional invitation.

Silas caught her lingering gaze and smirked, a slow, knowing expression that spoke volumes.

Leaning in closer, he allowed his breath to brush against her ear, warm and tantalizing. “I have a few more outfits like this. Come to my room tonight. I’ll model them for you.”

They might not be able to bond just yet, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t indulge in a little fun.

He tilted his head slightly, his tone teasing. “I’ve got other outfits too. I think you’ll like them.”

Emma fought against the smile that threatened to break free, his charm both infuriating and delightful. *Smooth bastard,* she thought, her mind briefly wandering back to the time he had picked out those barely-there pajamas for her. *Does he have something equally revealing for himself?*

The mere thought sent a warm flush to her cheeks.

“I’ll come find you after training tonight,” she replied, her voice soft yet resolute.

A flicker of mischief danced in his eyes before he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her lips—soft, deliberate, the kind of kiss that lingered just long enough to steal her breath away.

Yet, curiosity got the better of her. “Marcus, do you really not chew?”

He slumped over the table, his voice thin and defeated. “Too much hassle. Doesn’t matter anyway. I can’t taste a thing.”

Emma frowned, concern flitting across her features. “You can’t taste? Are you sick?”

Sitting beside her, Lucien spoke with a calm demeanor. “His mental power is unstable. It’s numbing his senses.”

Edric nodded in agreement, his expression serious. “When your mental power starts swinging that wildly, it doesn’t just dull your taste. It scrambles all five senses.”

Marcus leaned back in his chair, his expression blank and distant. “Right now, I have no taste or smell. Just sight, hearing, and touch.”

Emma blinked in surprise, her brow furrowing. “How come I’ve never seen anything about that on the lightcore?”

She frowned inwardly, realizing the lightcore only reported on therians who had self-destructed when they lost control—never a word about losing their senses.

Lucien stirred his oatmeal, his tone measured and steady. “The Empire filters what it shows. The lightcore only shares information that the brass approves. Most things never make it to the feed unless someone digs deep—and even then, the system only allows a few to slip through. Once something is flagged as restricted, it’s gone for good.”

Emma leaned back, her mind racing. Her entire understanding of the Empire had been shaped by the lightcore—and now, it felt as if the ground beneath her had shifted dramatically.

Marcus poked at another biscuit with his fork, this time managing to chew twice before swallowing. Still, there was nothing—no flavor, no warmth, nothing to tether him to the meal before him.