Claimed By The Tyrant King

Outside the chamber door, Rowan stood perfectly still as the muffled sound of voices drifted through the wood, followed by the faint rustle of movement from within.

Even after everything that had happened tonight, he had thought the king would at least allow her time to rest and recover from the shock, but instead he was here in her chamber.

When a soft sound escaped Rosalind from within, Rowan’s jaw tightened, his hand clenching at his side as the meaning of it settled heavily over him. He did not need to hear every word, what reached him was already enough to tell him something intimate was happening inside.

Alaric tilted his head as he deepened the kiss, his mouth moving against Rosalind’s as he dipped his tongue in her mouth. His hand slid to her waist and pulled her closer, grinding her hips gently against the hard heat of him.

A moan escaped Rosalind before she could stop it, and suddenly every part of her body felt alive, as though it might burst into flames from the sensation. Warmth trickled down her thighs, and she hated herself for realizing just how easily he could make her feel this way.

She did not even notice when her hands lifted and slipped into his hair, her fingers tangling in the strands as she found herself kissing him back.

A satisfied smile touched Alaric’s lips against hers, because he knew he had drawn her exactly where he wanted her.

Slowly he pulled away, and Rosalind’s eyes fluttered open to meet his, her heart hammering wildly in her chest.

Embarrassment flooded her as she bit down on her lower lip, ashamed of how readily her body had answered him and the fact that some part of her still wanted more.

"Do you like it, Rosalind?" Alaric asked softly.

Her lips parted, but no words came.

"Did it make you feel good?" he asked again, his voice lower now.

Before she could stop herself, Rosalind gave the faintest nod, and the moment she realized what she had admitted, a quiet gasp left her lips. Alaric let out a soft chuckle, clearly amused.

"There is nothing wrong with saying what you feel, little rose," he murmured as he stepped closer, holding her gaze until she swallowed nervously.

"Do you want more?" he asked, his voice thick with seduction. "I promise I can make you feel good."

The words sent something fluttering deep within her chest and as he advanced, Rosalind instinctively stepped backward until her back struck the edge of the table. A startled breath escaped her lips as Alaric towered before her.

"Just say my name, Rosalind, and I will make you see the stars tonight," he whispered.

Alaric leaned closer and pressed his lips to the delicate hollow behind her ear, and Rosalind’s fingers gripped the edge of the table as her breathing turned uneven.

Slowly, he trailed wet kisses down the length of her neck before letting his mouth linger at her collarbone. "Say it," Alaric murmured, his hand finding her waist and drawing her flush against him.

Heat rushed through her at the sudden closeness, and a tremor moved through her body.

Each kiss against her skin, each touch at her waist, tempted her toward the very thing she knew she should resist.

Alaric, however, knew exactly how stubborn Rosalind could be, and he was determined to get the answer he wanted. His lips continued their slow path along her neck while his hand drifted lower, brushing over her thigh beneath the gown. Rosalind’s breath left her in a rush, the sensation so new and overwhelming that she barely knew how to process it. His hand moved higher, teasingly slow, and all she could do was press her legs together in a futile attempt to steady herself.

"I will not stop until you say it," he murmured against her skin.

At last, Rosalind gave in. "A... Alaric," she whispered.

At once, his hand eased away from where it had been threatening to go, sliding back to the curve of her waist as he pulled her closer once more. "Good," he mused, lifting his eyes to hers. "You are learning, Rosalind."

She was a mess before him, her eyes clouded with desire and her lips still parted from unsteady breaths, and to Alaric they looked almost like an invitation.

He leaned in again and captured her lips in another kiss. This time it began slow but soon it grew hungrier, his hold tightening as he drew her closer. Rosalind no longer knew when she had started responding so easily to him, and she blamed her own treacherous body as her arms slowly rose to wrap around his neck. Alaric held her close enough that she could feel the heat of him through the thin fabric of her dress, and when he caught her bottom lip gently between his teeth, all she could do was moan his name helplessly into his mouth.

****

It seemed like the night was far from over, because before Rosalind could even gather her thoughts, Alaric lifted her into his arms and placed her firmly on the table.

In one swift movement, his hand swept across its surface, sending everything upon it crashing to the floor, yet neither of them paid the sound any mind as the kiss deepened into something far more consuming.

There was something in the restraint of him, in the way he touched her as though he wanted all of her yet was forcing himself to hold back, that made her body tremble and slowly yield to him.

By the time he finally pulled away, Rosalind was breathless, as though he had stolen every bit of air from her lungs. He rested his forehead lightly against hers, and a smile curved at his lips.

"You’re improving, little rose," he murmured.

She had indeed, he thought. Every other time he had kissed her, she had remained stiff and unresponsive, but tonight her body had betrayed every ounce of resistance she had tried to keep.

"It is a shame we have to end things here... Good night, Rosalind."

Rosalind drew in a shaky breath.

"Good night, Your Majesty," she replied, though the sound of her own voice startled her. It hardly sounded like her at all, but like someone else entirely.

A smirk touched Alaric’s lips before he finally stepped away from her, leaving her in complete disarray, and made his way toward the door.

Rosalind remained where she was, her heart slamming violently against her chest.

What had she done?

The question echoed through her mind as the memory rushed back... how she had clung to him, how the sounds had escaped her lips...

How had she let herself respond to him so easily when every part of her knew she should resist!?

After leaving the chamber, Alaric walked straight past the footman stationed outside.

"Follow me," he ordered.

Rowan moved from his post and followed Alaric and he realized the faint scent of Rosalind still clung to the king which confirmed that they had been intimate. A bitter helplessness settled in him.

Rowan hated that all he could do was stand there and listen. And because of what he recently discovered about Rosalind’s identity and her past connection to him, it hit him harder.

Once they had moved farther down the corridor, Alaric’s expression shifted completely. The smile he had worn in Rosalind’s chamber was gone, replaced by a cold, unreadable face. "What did you notice?" he asked.

"The hem of the lady’s dress was coated with something unusual," Rowan reported evenly. "When it came into contact with the fire, it ignited almost immediately."

Alaric came to a still halt. "Which means someone must have done it deliberately," he said, his voice turning dangerously quiet.

The thought of someone daring to harm what was his made something cold settle in Alaric’s expression. "Find out who it is immediately and report back to me," he ordered without turning around.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Rowan replied.

And with that, Alaric strode into the darkness of the corridor, already certain that before the night was over, someone would answer for it.