Nine Hot Therians and Their Only One Queen novel Chapter 413

**When She Opened the Door to the Life She Was Afraid to Live by Nora Vale Kingsley**

“I specifically instructed you to slice the meat, yet here you are, attempting to put on some sort of paper art exhibition. Now that I ask you to grill, you decide to start brewing potions? Are you serious right now?”

Marcus hurled the skewer he had been fiddling with right at Calum’s feet, his face twisted in contempt.

“So this is the situation we find ourselves in. That decrepit old Beast God must have finally come to the realization of just how utterly useless you are. And seeing as you’re not exactly in the prime of your youth anymore, he must have paired you with Ms. Tibarn out of sheer pity.

It’s as if the old relic has sent you off to a retirement home to fade away quietly.”

Marcus’s words dripped with venom, sparing no one in the vicinity—except for Emma. Everyone else present had felt the sting of his barbs before. They were all acutely aware that he was deliberately trying to provoke Calum, yet the harshness of his words still made them wince, feeling a pang of sympathy for the man standing there.

Calum remained by the grill, enveloped in a heavy silence, his head bowed as he fixated on the broken, charred skewer lying on the ground.

His lips pressed tightly together, refusing to utter a single word.

In that moment, he looked… undeniably tragic.

“What’s happening here?”

Lucien approached, casting a fleeting glance at the burnt remnants on the ground before turning his gaze to Marcus.

With a dismissive gesture, Marcus pointed at Calum and provided a curt summary of the debacle involving the slicing and grilling fiasco. Then, with an air of finality, he declared, “I refuse to deal with a beast this dim-witted. I’m going to accompany Ms. Tibarn.” He pivoted sharply and strode away.

Damn it. My mind must be swimming in murky waters.

For a fleeting moment earlier, he had genuinely thought that obnoxious Calum appeared somewhat pitiful.

It had to be an illusion.

Definitely a complete hallucination.

Lucien observed Marcus’s retreating figure, a slight twitch forming at the corner of his mouth.

He had asked Marcus to test Calum’s skills, not to verbally dismantle him.

“Marshal.” Lucien steeled himself, preparing to intervene. “Marcus speaks like that to everyone. Don’t let it get to you. I’ll have a word with him later.”

Calum lifted his gaze, meeting Lucien’s eyes with a slow, inscrutable expression.

He had chosen Lucien as his successor, fully aware of the kind of person he was. Yet, he hadn’t anticipated that Lucien would choose to test him in such a manner.

Heh.

He can wait.

Calum bent down, retrieving the charred skewer from the ground, and began to eat it, bite by stubborn bite.

Lucien was taken aback, his eyes widening in disbelief.

“Marshal!” He exclaimed, trying to intervene.

Calum silenced him with a mere glance.

He continued to chew the dusty, bitter skewer in silence before finally breaking his own quietude, “Don’t reprimand Marcus. This is my fault. I’m the fool who can’t even manage something as fundamental as grilling.”

The weight of defeat hung heavily on Calum’s shoulders.

It’s just grilling.

Every other man in this house can do it effortlessly.

But I can’t.

Marcus’s criticisms weren’t entirely unfounded.

Behind them, Emma pinched Marcus sharply at the waist, her expression a mix of irritation and concern.

“You completely crossed a line. What if Calum snapped and decided to fight you?”

Calum was a Rank 12. If it came to blows, Marcus would be no match for him.

“He won’t lay a finger on me.” Marcus rubbed the spot she had pinched, her grip having been firm, but for him, it barely registered.

If anything, it exhilarated him.

He caught her hand, guiding it to the other side of his waist. “Ms. Tibarn. This side too.”

Emma was momentarily rendered speechless.

So now he’s asking for a reward?

She attempted to retract her hand, but Marcus held on tightly.

He guided her palm onto his abdomen, the warmth radiating through his thin shirt sending a jolt of awareness through her.

“Ms. Tibarn.” Marcus leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low, lazy drawl, wicked and enticing, as though he were casting a spell. “Pinch me again. I like it.”

Emma found herself utterly defenseless against him in that moment. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and she managed to give a shy, symbolic pinch to his waist.

“Enough. Get up.”

People were watching. She needed to maintain at least a semblance of composure.

Her ears burned as she attempted to pull her wrist away, but it remained steadfast in his grip. Marcus was far from satisfied.

“Ms. Tibarn…” He buried his face against her neck, his cool breath ghosting over her skin, sending a shiver racing down her spine—sweet, electric, utterly impossible to ignore.