The Alpha King Marked Me. I Still Haven't Told Him I'm A Girl novel Chapter 107

Chapter 107: One Hundred & Seven

(Still distorted)

Valka

He adores me. He brings me gifts. They’re shiny and pretty. And I wear them, only because he’ll take them off me later.

He feeds me. Food. Fruits. I lick the juices off his hands. He makes a pained sound in his throat when I do that. Sometimes, I think I’ve hurt him, but then, I see the arching tent in his pants.

I pounce on him, giggling as I straddle his thighs and rip off his clothes. He pretends to struggle to pry me off him. He pretends to complain. Then I put my breast in his mouth and he shuts up.

He paints me. I love these moments best. I like the way the paint brush touches his bottom lip before he makes a stroke on the canvas. I like the way his eyes blaze with carnal heat when I arch my spine and pose for him. I like it most when he stops pretending to concentrate and arches me over the desk.

"Why did you come to Ebonheart?"

My fingers remain on the white robe, clutching tightly like he ordered me to. I answer him because I find that he only ever stops asking me those questions if I don’t avoid them. "To find my mother."

His violet gaze flicks to me, the soft scratching against the canvas stalling slightly. "Did you?"

It aggravates me when he does that. He knows the answers to the questions he asks. He knows what I am thinking. He knows me better than anyone. "I did. I took a glimpse of her from afar. She didn’t look like she missed me. Or father. It made me mad. I waited by the gravestone for years and she never came by to drop flowers for the daughter she assumed dead. She never came back."

Lucien’s lips purse, but he doesn’t look surprised. "Why didn’t you approach her?"

"Because it was one thing to think it, and another to be told it." I am suddenly exhausted. My head hurts a little. I toss down the robe and lean back on the desk. "Talk later. Come to me."

"We must talk about it if you wish to get better." He leans over to dab the brush in more green paint. "Tell me about growing up in House Ironfang. Tell me about Rhea’s sons, your brothers."

I am angry. "Stop interrogating me!"

"I am trying to help you, Valka." 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

"I don’t need help! I just need you to touch me," I whine. He always insists on talking. I don’t want to talk about the things he keeps pressing on. I don’t want to talk at all. The only words I want to speak are ’fuck’, ’yes’, ’harder’, ’deeper’.

He won’t look at me. "You either speak about your family or you speak about the first time you killed, but we’re fucking talking. Right now."

I start sobbing. I fight him. I take the art supplies and throw them at him. I throw tantrums. He doesn’t stop me. He never stops me when I get angry. He likes it when I hit his chest and yell at him.

He says it is good for me. He says my defenses being lowered is the only way to reach what I have buried inside. He says my repressed emotions resurfacing means the memories will come in tow.

When I have exerted myself, my legs give, and my head drops against his chest. "Rhea hated me. But she took care of me. She tried to kill me, but she knew father would hate her for it, so she often controlled the damage. My brothers were no better. They called me a monster. But they were children. They were blood. I cared for them, but they hated me. I hated that house. I stayed because of father."

His fingers are in my hair, soothing as they brush along my scalp. My body tightens with need. I want his fingers inside me. I always want him inside me.

"And before then?" he asks, ruining the moment again. "Where were you before then?"

"I was..." Images push against my mind. I push back. I push harder. I remember this place. I remember here. I remember him. "I was with you."

He straightens, lifting me atop the desk again. His eyes pierce mine. "For a few weeks, yes. You were gone for a while before that, and several months after. Where were you?"

My mate smells good. Delicious. His arms are on the desk, bracketing my thighs. His robe is stained with the paint I’d tossed at him. There is a smudge on his cheek bone. A hue of blue.

I lick it off. It tastes strange, but it is not the strangest thing I’ve licked off his skin in the last week.

"Valka," he hisses when my mouth lowers to his jaw, nipping his skin. "Focus."

Something about this feels familiar. It makes my skin burn hotter. "Please," I whimper.

He likes it when I plead. He is a simple man. I can get away with anything if I just say please.

I want that. I tell him so. I lift my left leg and arch it over his shoulder, raising my hips. "Please."

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