The Alpha King Marked Me. I Still Haven't Told Him I'm A Girl-Chapter 158: Extra - s (Valka & Lucien) IX

I have my fingers around the vase before I can even think and it hurtles for his head with frightening speed. He knocks it out of the way but the next one--a plate plucked off the set dinner table--is flying for his throat. "You put me in chains!"

He ducks and it shatters against the wall. "Ah, yes. Preventive measures. Did you enjoy the time alone? An old friend once said to me that solitude is the path to self-actualization."

This time, I grab at something larger. The bowl of soup. "I’m going to kill you."

He grins, licks his fangs. "And I’m going to eat you."

It was clear he didn’t see me as a threat, and it isn’t until he moves in the blink of an eye, plucking me right off my feet that I realize that even rage cannot fuel me for long enough to commit murder with him.

He yanks my hair back and plunges his tongue into my mouth, scrapping the roof of my mouth, sucking my tongue. My heart pounds in my throat, blood rushes to the surface of my skin. Too hot, too high on the contact. It is a battle I am swiftly losing, and I thrash against him, scraping my nails against his skin.

He laughs against my mouth and squeezes my ass in the same moment he murmurs, "I love this. On the killing field, I couldn’t stop thinking about what it’d look like arched up in the air for me. Think you can hold that pose for hours? I would love to paint it."

I drive my knee into his crotch. He groans huskily. "A little to the left and you just might scratch that itch." He jerks my body forward using my ass and I gasp at the feel of his thick length pressing against my abdomen.

A rage of heat blasts to my core at the lightest brush of his mouth on mine. I need more.

I touch his face, run a hand across his cheek and into his hair, and pull his lips harder against mine. The graze of his teeth moves a desperate noise up my throat. I roll my hips and arch closer against him as I lick the inside of his mouth.

The change is too swift to take note of. I go from rage to want. Maybe it is both.

We pivot, twisting, slamming into this wall and that, and the kiss grows harder, wetter, madder. Vaguely, I register the guards leave. Vaguely, I hear doors slamming shut in the distance, but the blaze that sears through me grants me no second to feel shame.

Lucien’s hands brace the wall beside my head. I’m on the tip of my toes, meeting every thrust of his tongue until his lips touch my jawline, my neck, my ear. He catches my earlobe between his fangs and nips. Then he sucks.

My vision turns hazy, a heavy heartbeat pounding between my legs. His hand comes down to my rib, sliding up. My back arches and I would suddenly have done anything for him to tug my dress down, bare my breasts, and put his mouth on them.

The thought is so suddenly, it briefly drags me out of my haze. I pull away from his mouth and pant harshly. This isn’t... right. Gods, how did we get this far and I never even thought about Malachy? Running was one thing, but having another man’s hands all over me, his promised, was a form of disrespect no one deserved.

Lucien’s stare is dark and confused, but he reads my eyes and abruptly growls at me. The sound isn’t one of anger but frustration. "No."

I brush him aside. "I can’t--"

I don’t make it very far before he sweeps me off my feet and silences my protest with another kiss. My resolve starts to dissolve.

My bare back slams against a glass window, my nails raking along Lucien’s scalp as I tug a fistful of his hair, tongue scrapping along his fangs, drawing blood that tastes like fire and nectar. "We can’t," I breathe against firm, sensual lips. "I can’t. I’m engaged." I pull back enough to look at him and clear the fog of lust from my mind. "I like this one. He’s been good to me."

Hot hands trail the length of my rib, a single claw ripping my robe open.

My chest swells with want, nipples peaking at his attention. Lucien has a way of looking at a woman with his undivided attention. Like nothing else existed. Like the world might have been falling apart around them and she’d still be the most important thing to him. And now, those eyes gutter with unholy light.

A gasp slips out of me as he cups my middle. "Good?" he muses, running two fingers along the slit of my pussy. "But you like them bad, Lyra." A finger pushes inside me and my head drops back against the glass pane, my teeth catching my bottom lip as he pulls out that finger to the tip, whispering against my forehead as he plunges it in to the hilt, earning a tight squeeze from me. "You like them vile. Older. Despicable. Sick in the head. And obsessed. Why else..." He draws out the word as he fucks me deeper with his finger. "would you be here, taunting me with the spectacular view of your legs, that ass, without wearing any underwear?" 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

"A..." I pant. "A wardrobe... mishap."

"Uh," he responds huskily. A second finger joins the first and a hot pressure expands inside me. I grip uselessly at his jacket, unable to do anything but feel. I choke on a breath as he parts his fingers in a scissor-like motion, punctuating his words in tandem to his violent thrust, "This. Is. Mine. Say it."

My eyes roll back, stars flying. Pleasure licks at my veins like streaks of flame. "No."

He pulls out of me inch by inch, forcing me to close around nothing. And then, he violates me by adding a third. I’ve never been filled up like this before. It robs me of every rational thought. I wanted him to stop--no, I wanted him to continue. It was too much and too slow at the same time.

"What’s his name?" he asks casually, like he isn’t splitting me in two.

The name tumbles off my lips even if I plan to hoard it. "Malachy."

He pulls out the third finger and glides the two in smoothly, without resistance, and when he rejoins the third, I understand he’s building a rhythm, one that will be incomplete without the third. His words are soft and coarse at the same time. "And what’s mine?"

"Lucien."

He takes out the third again. "Whose cunt is this?"

I hate the words on his tongue. I hate it so much my insides clench tight around his finger, filling the hall with a squirting sound. I start to say ’Lyra’s’, until he pushes in the third and curls all three of them diabolically. "Lucien’s," I breathe.

He grunts in approval as wetness trickles into a circle at the centre of his palm. "Remind me who Malachy is again."

My nails dig into his skin. "No one important."