The Alpha King Marked Me. I Still Haven't Told Him I'm A Girl novel Chapter 66

Chapter 66: Sixty Six

It does sound like him, but trying to imagine a younger Lucien scrambles my mind. He looks like he just winked into existence one day, skipping over the growing process like normal people do. "Your mother, what was she like?"

He blinks those pretty silver lashes, lips twitching on a fond smile. "A menace."

I wait for more, but he doesn’t give me anymore. I lick the desert off my lips. "What happened, then? To Tiernan? How did you become king?"

Silence stretches between us before he says, almost idly, "He was poisoned at his coronation. Another family decided the Draemonts had been in power long enough and took matters into their own hands." Nothing on his face gives away anything kind of sorrow. "I hardly knew him. I was drunk in a tavern while he choked on his own blood. But he was young--by our standards. And he barely lived."

His mouth twists into something that isn’t quite a smile. "I was named Crown Prince soon after. My father didn’t trust me as far as he could throw me. Even remarried, just to see if he could breed someone better."

"Wyatt," I murmur, and he nods.

"Wyatt," he echoes. "The model son. Everything I wasn’t--obedient, efficient. My father’s little miracle." He tips his head at me. "But he never learned what I did, why I always came out better in everything without even trying."

"What’s that?"

"Tiernan and Wyatt were my father’s prodigies, so much so, they never did try to learn who they were," he says simply. "I was never anyone’s golden boy. No one’s heir. No one’s hope. And perhaps that was my freedom. I learned early that if I could not be their perfect son, I would be my own flawed god. I knew there was a darkness in me, and I embraced it. I loved myself too much to pretend I was someone I wasn’t. So when I fought, I fought as Lucien. When I lost, I lost as Lucien. There is no different versions of me, no throne or crown that defines me. Strip me of my title, bind me in chains, cast me into exile, wrap me in rags, and I still remain King. Because I know what I am."

His gaze lowers to the mess of chocolate smeared across my fingers, then back to my eyes. "And so do you, Valka. That is one of the many things about you that excites me. You do not do anything because it is what is expected of you. You do it because you damned well want to. You’ve never tried to hide or conform to expectations. Do not start now."

He smiles, lopsided. "If you want a cake you don’t sneak into a kitchen for it in the dead of night. You order five, have them carried to your room on silver trays, and eat every last crumb in bed. Because the moment you start folding yourself up to make other people comfortable, you hand them control over you."He reaches for my hand, his fingers cool as they curl around my wrist. "And last I checked, that power belongs only to me."

My breath hitches and the world narrows to the brush of his mouth as he lifts my hand and, without breaking eye contact, draws my stained finger past his lips. My body tightens and my mouth dries as his tongue glides slowly, deliberately, over the chocolate, the warmth of his mouth a sinful contrast to the cool air between us.

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