The Alpha King Marked Me. I Still Haven't Told Him I'm A Girl novel Chapter 87

Chapter 87: Eighty Seven

Something thick pushes against my stomach and my body freezes, right before it jerks forward, successfully tearing Rafael off me. And my fist swings before I can stop it, slamming into his stupid face.

The blow catches his right eye and his head snaps right. My chest heaves from anger and exertion. "I do not assume wolves regenerate when they lose a limb. Want to find out? I dare you to touch me like that again."

Rafael rests back on his heel, wiping the blood off his mouth with a swipe of his thumb. He smiles fondly. "There you are." He cocks his head slightly, inhaling the air slightly. "I’ve missed the scent of you, Valka."

I make to push past him but he stops me with an arm to my chest, pushing me up against the wall. His eyes flash gold as he face stops inches from mine. "You came out here, all alone, hoping I would follow. Did you know when you were fucking the enemy that I felt every second of that pain?"

"Clearly not enough of it, since you’re still alive," I spit. "And you are mad if you think I came out here for you."

He starts laughing. "Oh, you clever little bitch. You orchestrated this to get back at me, didn’t you? This is all some part of your grand revenge plot against me for pushing you. You have my complete attention now, Valka, but I cannot assure you that is a good thing." He leans in and licks my cheek, making me shudder with disgust. "Does he do it better?"

I don’t even want to know what the meaning of the question is, but I catch myself saying anyway, "He does *everything* better. And I assure you, it is more for your sake that I suggest you let me go this instant."

His eyes shine with something hard to read. "I dropped you for several reasons. Maybe I was a little jealous. Or maybe in truth, I despised you for what you were. But in truth, had you returned home with us with the claims of victory, you would have died anyway, breeded beneath the dungeons for what you were worth. You owe me, more than you’ll ever understand, and this is how you repay me."

Soft laughter curls in my stomach. "Shall I get on my knees and bless you for it? For saving me from your depraved family? From you? Sing praises of your mercy? Your unmatched compassion?" It is an effort to keep the anger reeled in, because I know he wins if he gets a reaction out of me. "There were a million other choices you could have made, and the first you picked was to discard me, because you never saw me as anything more or less than a threat. A scourge on your white cloak. What do you want from me, Rafael?"

His head sinks slightly, almost touching my forehead. "You. Come back to Silvermoor with me."

"Does Astrea know you’ve reduced yourself and your marriage with her to this level of pathetic?"

He grunts sharply. "We both know I’ve never given a fuck about her. If you come back with me, I will forget you’ve had... fucking neanderthals between your legs. I’ll make you my concubine and you’ll have riches beyond measure."

Another wave of laughter slips out of me. "Look at me, Rafael." I tip my head so he can see the glittering crown. "I am Queen, Erasthai to the most powerful man alive. You have nothing to offer that I do not already possess. You are a child, a pup, really, snivelling in the corners for crumbs where I stand. You are completely worthless to me."

He bares his teeth in a snarl. "When the war desecrates Ebonheart, leaving blood and nothing but dust behind, you will find that a crown means nothing without a kingdom."

I raise my chin, then. "You plan to wage war anyway. Why, then, have you reached for a truce if you’ve settled on a complete annihilation?"

Rafael’s lips curve slightly, sinister and dark. "I quite like to play a game of chess well enough. It is often entertaining to see the pieces play out themselves, according to plan." His hold on me loosens. "I intend to win this war, regardless of what it may cost me. I will wipe out whatever is left of your abominable race, and then, I’d still have you. You can choose to be mine with a title, or with a leash. I don’t mind, either."

My brows arch. "It is a tad difficult to be scared of a lackey, when I’m mated to the devil himself." I lean in close enough that my nose brushes against his. "You will never measure up. I will never choose you. I was never even yours to begin with. And even if you wrapped me up in chains, my answer wouldn’t change. I’d sooner spread my very pretty legs for a neanderthal king and be ridden like a horse than have be touched by you with a ten-foot pole. And if it still isn’t clear enough what this is, it is me rejecting you."

What?

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