The Alpha King Marked Me. I Still Haven't Told Him I'm A Girl novel Chapter 83

Chapter 83: Eighty Three

The world sways. I am being lifted by strong arms. Warmth. I reach for that warmth, but the harder I try, the faster I fall. A door slams shut somewhere in my subconscious. A frustrated growl fills the space. Water begins trickling.

And then, that voice tells me, If you die on me, I will haunt you down in hell, Valka. And I’ll bring you back and kill you myself.

And then, I fall. For real this time. And crash into a pool of scalding hot water. The throes of the nightmare seeking to sink me seize at the peril of being drowned in real time. My body jacknifes and I gasp, water filling my mouth and nostrils.

I flail, hands outstretched as I try to grab a hold of something. My nails screech against the smooth panes of what feels like a bath tub and I begin thrashing with wild panic.

But it only lasts for a second as those familiar hands pluck me from the water and I cling to them for dear life, shivering. Sobbing.

My eyelids part enough to see a chamber formed from a cavern, rough rocky walls and an almost smooth ground, dimly lit with a handful of caverns. And it is Lucien who shelters me against his chest that smells like clean skin and winter. I inch closer, pressing my cheek against it as another violent shudder travels through me.

He lifts us out of the tub without a word, water sluishing as he wraps my feeble legs around his torso, taking me beyond the bath chamber and into a vast bedroom, all while he strokes a single finger down my lower back, his lips brushing over my forehead, my brows, my eyes, my cheeks. "You’re alright."

I believe him, if at all because it feels like he’s trying to convince himself more than he’s trying to convince me.

My hands don’t stop grasping his shoulders. My nails dig into his skin and I know it must hurt, but it is the only way I can ground myself. He doesn’t complain. He merely walks us to the small couch by the edge of an empty dresser and sits, holding me against his lap while I shiver and spasm uncontrollably. He repeats those words to me. In common tongue, muddled with an older language. Until I stop shaking. You’re alright.

My teeth clatters violently.

"Valka," he says after a moment, enunciating each syllable like he wishes me to remember that it is my name. "I need to..." His words trail off as I lean closer, absorbing more of that warmth from his skin. His arms tense around him. "... take off your clothes. You’re freezing."

I nod tiredly.

"I will take my arm off you now, but I am right here. Do you understand me?"

I nod again.

"Use your words."

"Y-yes," I whisper hoarsely.

He untangles himself from me gently, making quick work of the light slip of a dress that I don’t recognise, until it comes off, leaving me naked and cold. He sets me down on the couch and crosses the room in swift strides, retrieving the first thing he can get his hands on. A thick tunic fashioned like a jacket, woolen and long.

Like he’s done it a thousand times before, he crouches low in front of me, pulling the tunic down over my head and hands. The fabric is warm and smooth on my skin, wrapping me in his scent. It stops mid-thigh and the hands droop low, swallowing mine, making me feel like an infant playing dress up with adult clothing. 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

And then, he reaches up, taking the damp strands of my hair and in silence, he weaves them into a neat braid over my shoulder.

My breaths come easier now and my mind less foggy. "I’m dying, aren’t I?"

"It’ll pass," he says. "The fever is broken and--"

"You did this to me," I say, but the words have no fight or bite. Just exhaustion. "I heard you both earlier. Making me your Erasthai is killing me."

"Grandmother often speaks a lot of nonsense," he mutters, rising to his feet. "In the years before, you’ve had symptoms. Severe nosebleeds. An addled mind. If you did not die then, then you will not now. Much less when I’ve given you equal ground to fight back."

I blink. "Equal ground?"

"You’re not answering my question." Did he choose me? Over Ilya? If he didn’t, why then, would he be trying to save my life?

I glare. "Leave. I’m not sharing a bed with you."

He laughs. "There’s only one bed here, Val. And I’m not peeling my skin off taking the floors for you. This isn’t a fairytale or a novel."

"There’s a perfectly functional couch right there," I point across the room.

"It’s too small to fit all of this greatness," he smiles mischievously.

My lips part on an argument, but I end up squealing when he bands an arm around my waist and tugs my body beside his, my back hitting his chest and he crushes his nose into my neck. When I twist, trying to pry his hands off where they hold me in place, his deep voice rumbles against my throat, "If you keep wiggling your ass like that, I’m going to assume you’re asking me to touch it."

"You are the most disgusting pervert I’ve ever met," I growl.

"So you have said many times, but it doesn’t make you want me any less." His thumb brushes along my stomach, softly. "You’re safe with me. You always have been."

My body relaxes against him slowly, the circles his fingers trace into my skin soothing enough to deceive my body into a false sense of security. Or maybe it was the fever and the vulnerability of my mind. But I lean back slightly, letting him crush me into him even further. We fit, in the way a glove encompasses a hand, keeping it warm from the elements, Lucien’s body fits around mine.

"Lucien."

"Hm."

"Why did I leave you?" I ask, eyelids drooping slowly.

A smile ghosts against my skin as sleep tugs at me. "Because you liked me too much."