The Alpha King Marked Me. I Still Haven't Told Him I'm A Girl novel Chapter 71

Chapter 71: Seventy One

Valka

Lucien slams my wrist into the door. Once. Twice. Thrice, until my fingers go numb and the knife clatters to the ground. A collective cheer erupts beyond the chamber walls. Someone mutters something about not being able to walk straight for a week.

My knee jerks up hard into his groin, and he hisses through his teeth, breath sharp and pained. "Stop that."

"Why?" I rasp, thrashing beneath his weight. "Does it hurt?"

His hips grind forward -- not intentional, I think, but enough that something hard brushes against my stomach. My heart jolts. "On the contrary," he grunts, eyes flashing gold, and then black. And then gold again. Like he’s glitching. Like something inside is trying to claw its way out.

"Let me go." I twist, snapping against the restraints of his hand. One hand. Just one clasps both my wrists like manacles, caging them above my head to the door.

"I..." His voice is thick and layered, sounding nothing like him. His nostrils flare as black eyes drop to my neck, to the frantic flutter of my pulse. He shakes his head as if wrestling with himself. His fangs elongate, something frightening crossing his features. The sound that escapes him is something between a bay, a snarl and a plea. "Stop... moving. I do not want to hurt you."

"You already have," I bite out, risking snapping my arm out of it’s socket to get him off me in an impossible twist that uses his weight against him.

But Lucien catches me before I can get away, an arm banding around my waist. The world flips. The breath is punched from my lungs as my back collides with the mattress.

I roll off, grabbing at the first thing I can reach and hurl it at his head. It is a whip--why is there a whip in the consummation chamber in the first place?! The crop slaps him against the arm with a harsh ’twack’.

The next thing that flies for him as he advances on me like a man possessed is the set of candleholders, and they light his tunic on fire.

"Shit," he cusses, turning around in wild circles to rip off the shirt and the sight of his bare chest temporarily fries my brain. It’s not the first, second, or third time I see him like this, but it catches me in the gut more this time.

This beautiful, stupid, infuriating creature is now my mate. The gods be damned. They knew they couldn’t get to me, so they fashioned the very weapon built to ruin me in the body of the hottest man alive, and I am somehow supposed to ignore the way the sweat clings to his skin and how edible he looks while killing him.

Even my thoughts don’t belong to me anymore. Neither does my body. My traitorous body wants to fly towards him, not away. Wants to rip what’s left of his clothes off and sink my teeth into him.

The last of the flames die and Lucien looks up. He’s annoyed. And aroused. And losing control. "We can try for a civilized conversation any time now, Valka."

"Fuck civilized," I snarl and hurl the vase at him. He catches it right before it nicks his jaw and ice shoots from his fingers upon contact, freezing the glass, and with a clench of his fist, it turns to small particles of dust-like snow.

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