Chapter 462 --462
Chapter 462: Chapter-462
She looked at Mahir, her glass-bead eyes cold and absolute."Bring them here," Elara commanded, her words simple but carrying the heavy, crushing weight of the Empress. "Put them on the desk. Do not be angry."
Mahir’s jaw clenched. The muscles in his neck strained visibly as he fought down the primal urge to drag the Northern Prince off the desk by his silver hair. But the absolute command of his Alpha—his Master—was unbreakable.
He marched forward, his heavy boots echoing on the marble floor. He stopped right beside Julian, looming over the prince for a terrifying second, before slamming the reports down on the corner of the desk.
"As you command," Mahir ground out, his golden eyes flashing down to Julian before returning to Elara. "Is there anything else you... require, Master?"
He stressed the final word just a fraction—a deliberate, possessive flex that completely bypassed Julian but registered perfectly in Elara’s analytical mind.
"No," Elara said flatly, ignoring the subtle challenge. "You can go back to the door. Thank you."
Mahir bowed deeply, his eyes lingering on her face, before turning on his heel and marching out of the office. The heavy oak doors slammed shut behind him with a resounding ’thud’.
Julian let out a long breath, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Gods above," Julian muttered, looking at the closed doors. "I swear that man is going to assassinate me in my sleep one of these days. Did you see the way he looked at me? It’s like I insulted his ancestors just by sitting here."
Elara looked at Julian.
Her mind processed the data. Mahir was a physical asset. He was lethal, loyal, and highly efficient at resolving her biological tension. But the moment his territorial aggression had threatened Julian—even passively—her internal systems had immediately prioritized the Prince’s safety.
’I protected the error code over the functional asset,’ Elara realized, a faint flicker of genuine panic rising beneath her calm exterior.
"You should get down," Elara said, her voice slightly quieter than before. The effort to use simple words was suddenly exhausting, weighed down by the terrifying realization of her own protective instincts. "The desk is for work. It is not a chair."
Julian looked at her, his ice-blue eyes softening. He easily misinterpreted her quiet tone as fatigue. He hopped off the desk, his boots landing softly on the carpet, completely avoiding the ink stain.
"Alright, alright. I know when I’m being kicked out of the administrative zone," Julian smiled, stepping closer to her chair. He didn’t touch her this time, but he leaned down slightly, bringing his face close enough that she could smell the sweet, warm scent of his tea.