Chapter 459 --459
Chapter 459: Chapter-459
Before she could analyze the data any further, a sharp knock echoed at her door.Elara opened her eyes, instantly resetting her posture into a perfect, vertical line of authority. "Come in."
The heavy oak door opened, and Mahir stepped inside.
He did not remain by the threshold as protocol dictated. He closed the door behind him, the heavy locking mechanism clicking shut with a definitive sound. Elara’s glass-bead eyes immediately tracked his movements. His usual stoic, military discipline was completely absent. His golden eyes were dark, burning with a raw, intense energy that bypassed all imperial logic.
He walked purposefully toward her desk. He stopped just a few feet away, his broad chest rising and falling heavily.
"Master," Mahir said, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that resonated in the quiet room.
Hearing that specific word, Elara paused. She slowly turned her chair to face him directly, her fingers lightly tapping against the polished wood of her desk. "Commander Mahir, that title is factually incorrect and violates—"
Before she could finish the reprimand, Mahir dropped to his knees.
Elara watched in absolute silence as the massive, lethal beast-kin commander lowered his head and began to crawl across the plush carpet toward her. The movement was predatory, entirely devoid of human pride, driven by a deep, instinctual submission embedded in his blood.
He reached her chair. Slowly, he lifted his large, calloused hands and placed them gently on either side of her knees. He looked up at her, his golden eyes completely bare, stripping away the armor of a soldier to reveal the desperate, territorial devotion of a man who had watched her from the shadows for years.
He leaned forward, his face inches from her lap, his breath warm against the dark velvet of her gown. "You accepted the Northern Prince," Mahir whispered, his voice thick with a dangerous, agonizing tension, his thumbs lightly tracing the fabric just above her knees. "But I have belonged to you since the day you spared my life. You are my Regent. My Master. Command me. Use me. However you wish, use me.
Elara’s gaze lingered on Mahir, It had been far too long—weeks that felt like months—since she had allowed herself any release. The warmth that had been simmering in her chest sharpened into something hotter, more insistent. She didn’t bother masking the hunger in her eyes.
"Strip," she ordered, voice cool and commanding.
Mahir’s ears twitched, a startled, beast-like yelp escaping him. His short, simple tunic and trousers were already minimal; still, his hands shook slightly as he obeyed, peeling the fabric away to reveal the hard lines of his body. Furred ears flicked back, tail low. By the time he stood bare before her, his breathing had already grown rough.
Elara rose from her chair with deliberate slowness. She loosened the ties of her own pants, letting them slide down her hips. The cool air kissed her skin as she stepped out of them. Mahir moved forward at once, dropping to his knees in front of her, his hands reaching to help slide the last of her clothing away.
Her expression remained mostly composed, but a faint flush crept across her cheeks and down her neck. Beastmen truly were gifted at this—attentive, strong, eager to please. The moment his warm breath ghosted over her inner thigh, she reached down, fingers threading through his thick hair, and yanked his head back firmly.
"You will not perform imperfectly," she said, eyes narrowing.
He trembled under her grip, pupils blown wide. "Yes, my lady."
She released his hair. Mahir’s hands instinctively moved toward her hips, but she stopped him with a single sharp word.