The Alpha King Marked Me. I Still Haven't Told Him I'm A Girl novel Chapter 70

Chapter 70: Seventy

Valka

The coronation goes by quickly.

Or rather, I am zoned out for most of it, itching to rip the crown off my head and the ring off my finger. How many times could I be blindsided by a man before I learned that they were all cut from the same piece of scum?

Did he ever even need me? Was this all still part of punishing me for what I’d done? What was true? Was there ever any truth? The talks of war and peace--were they nothing but bait to drag me to the altar, to brand me as his, body and soul?

And it’s worse than anything I’ve ever known. I feel him more now, in my head, my body, my heart, my very fucking soul, like a black tide surging, waiting to devour me. And I pour every drop of rage I have into the bond, hoping he feels it. Hoping he feels how much I want him dead. 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

The subjects each come forward, kissing my ring, leaving me with gifts and more blessings. I stew in my seat beside Lucien, the crown he’d placed on my brow after stealing ’choice’ from me nearly as heavy as the weight of the butter knife I’d snatched off the servant’s tray an hour ago.

I will kill him.

"I must congratulate you, Your Majesty," a soft voice purrs with all the innocence of an angel and the devilry that belongs in hell and I lift my gaze to Lilith’s green ones as she kisses the ring on my finger. She is resplendent as ever in her black gown fashioned in a way that could rival the glamour of mine, if it wasn’t so obvious that black was a rather odd color to wear to a wedding. "A wedding like yours has yet to be seen in ages. Gods bless your union with... longevity."

I smile with acid sweetness. "You are too kind, Lady Blackspire."

She bristles for a moment before lowering a gift carefully to my feet and disappearing through the crowd.

After what feels like an age of paying obeisance, learning more names than I ever have in my entire life, the violins strike a high cord, announcing the next event.

Lucien and I are to dance. This is the most complicated part of tonight. During the dance, the first to fourth layer of my wedding dress will be stripped, leaving me in the final layer, after which we will take to the boudoir, decorated for the night’s pleasures.

When he turns to me, holding out his hand, I almost do not take it.

But the cruel mischief behind his eyes tells me he expects that. He expects me to defy him. To curse him before his court. To claw and snarl. Because for Lucien, it’s always been about the spectacle, and my rage has always been his favorite performance.

So I do not give him the satisfaction of it.

I place my hand in his and let him lead me to the center of the hall. Lanterns float above us, casting a golden glow across the marble floor as we come to a halt before one another. Anger tightens my throat as he sets my hand on his shoulder, his palm sliding to the small of my back while our free hands entwine.

I step onto his boots with more force than necessary. His brows arch in silent amusement just as a slow melody begins.

The first movement is meant to be a graceful sweeping turn, but in my anger, I forget the steps. My body collides with his harder than etiquette allows, a shoulder brushing his chest with the weight of a shove. He barely flinches. If anything, his hand on my back tightens, pulling me closer than is proper, until the world shrinks to the space between us.

"Is it so bad?" he murmurs, voice low. "Being mine?"

My lips pull back from my teeth in a snarl. "You had no right."

Lucien’s fingers dig into my spine. "I am King. I have rights to everything."

Hatred churns in my gut. "Not me. You do not own me."

I shove my weight into his, forcing him to adjust, forcing him to feel every ounce of my fury. But Lucien adapts instantly. Of course he does.

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