Claimed By The Tyrant King

Rowan trailed behind in silence, his posture composed. Still, the way the king held Rosalind and the ease with which he drew her along as if she were his to command didn’t settle well in his chest.

They soon reached their destination, and Rosalind’s attention shifted. The meal had been laid out in the open, beneath a shaded space where the breeze moved freely, carrying with it the scent of food.

There were no servants nearby, which meant Alaric had dismissed them beforehand yet the quiet made the space feel more confined than open.

When the smell reached her, her stomach responded before she could stop it. "Sit," Alaric said, already pulling a chair out for her.

Rosalind lowered herself into it, careful with her movements, while he took the seat beside her rather than across.

The table was set with sliced roasted meat, neatly arranged with vegetables and a glass of dark wine. "Eat," he told her, and she picked up her cutlery.

Alaric, meanwhile, watched her more than his meal, because although she moved calmly, it was clear her thoughts were elsewhere rather than on the moment between them.

He set his fork aside before finishing and leaned back slightly, lifting his glass. "I have been occupied," he said, almost lightly, though his eyes remained on her. "It seems I have had less of your company because of it."

Rosalind did not respond at once as the statement meant little to her. He was king, of course he was occupied, or did he think his role as King was to leisure around all day? She thought inwardly.

If anything, his absence suited her better.

"You are not listening," he added after a moment, his tone low. "Your mind is somewhere else."

Rosalind paused, then lifted her gaze to meet his, "I am here," she said.

"Are you?" he replied, tilting his head slightly. "Then tell me what holds your attention."

Rosalind paused, then gave the smallest smile. "The wine is good," she said, reaching for her glass as an excuse to end the question.

He glanced at it, unimpressed. "Is it?"

She nodded, but before her fingers reached it, his voice cut in.

"Not that one." She looked up again as he turned toward her, already lifting his own cup. "Try this instead."

"It is still the same..." she began but the rim met her lips before she could finish and Alaric tilted the glass just enough that she had no choice but to drink.

At first, Rosalind managed, but he did not stop, and the steady flow forced her to swallow faster than she wanted. Her eyes widened, and a small amount slipped past, trailing down her chin to her collarbone as her breathing broke against the glass.

Then he pulled it away.

A quiet laugh left his mouth and his eyes glinted with amusement.

Rosalind wiped her mouth quickly, muttering under her breath. ’Mad king’.

There was nothing funny in the way he had almost drowned her in the wine!

His hand came to her chin, turning her face back toward him. With his other hand, he brushed a loose strand of hair back,

"You change quickly," he said, his voice softer now. "The palace agrees with you."

There was nothing about the palace that suited her... it only pressed in on her, and he knew it yet he preferred to bluff out nonsense.

"And you keep becoming harder to look away from," Alaric added in a calm voice, "I doubt I will ever be drawn to anyone else again."

Rosalind choked at once.

His hand stilled against her face as he looked at her, expression blank.

She coughed again as she pulled away from him and reached for the water, taking a hurried sip.

"I’m sorry... something got stuck," she said.

Nothing had. It was only his words. He always spoke casually, but never without meaning. What did he mean he would not be drawn to anyone else? That she alone would hold his attention?

She did not want that.

"Is it gone now?" Alaric asked, his tone edged, as if the interruption had been the only thing that mattered.

Rosalind nodded slowly.

"Come here." Alaric said, his hand catching hers as he pulled her forward, and before she could react, she found herself on his lap.

"Sit properly," he said, adjusting her with one hand at her thigh. Heat rushed to her face as she shifted under his guidance until she was straddling him, forced to face him directly. She went still at once, her breath caught in her chest as his face hovered too close. One wrong movement felt dangerous, and yet he only smiled as if nothing about this was out of place.

Rosalind was uncomfortable.

Alaric took her hand again, his fingers moving slowly over the glove as he held her gaze. "I told you before that I was not serious about making you my wife... I am no longer treating it as a joke"

Her fingers tightened in his grip without meaning to, and her breathing shifted.

"I do not feel this way with anyone else. Only you" He added.

Rosalind pulled her hand back and the small movement was enough to make his brow lift.

"Your Majesty..." she began carefully, steadying her voice, "you cannot simply change your mind like that. Your word is meant to be final. It would not reflect well if it were otherwise."

"Then it is decided. You will be my wife," He said.

Her heart jolted.

"No." The word slipped out before she could stop it. She rose from his lap at once, putting space between them, and the shift made his eyes darken.

"No?" he repeated, his voice lower now.

Rosalind saw the madness starting to form in his eyes and she forced a light laugh, trying to soften the moment. "I mean... you said it yourself. I lack refinement, and I am hardly suited for the palace. Why would you want someone like me as your wife? It does not make sense."

She let the laugh linger, but it did nothing as Alaric only watched her in silence and that alone worsened the situation.

Alaric slowly rose to his feet and as he stepped forward, she stepped back. He closed the distance again, and she kept retreating until the table stopped her. Her breath caught and he stopped just in front of her.

His gaze searched hers, while his presence pressed in around her. "I have decided that it does make sense," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"But there are others who are more suitable," Rosalind reasoned, her voice faltering slightly.

"And yet," he replied, "you are the most suitable."

Her breath hitched as he closed the space further. "Lady Evelina will correct whatever is lacking," he added. "That will be enough."

Rosalind swallowed as his breath brushed her face.

"The more you resist it," Alaric went on, almost thoughtfully, "the more I am inclined to see it done."

Her eyes shut briefly as she drew in a breath.

"That is not what I meant," she said quickly, trying to stop him before he pushed further.

His eyes narrowed. "Then tell me... do you want to be my wife and queen?"

"Your Majesty... I don’t think this is the right decision... I think you’ve had too much wine..." Rosalind started.

"I am not drunk," Alaric cut in smoothly, his voice firm as it silenced her at once. "I know exactly what I want, and you, Rosalind, do not want to be with me. Instead, you want freedom, but freedom is a dangerous thing to think about in the wrong place," he added, his jaw tightening as he looked at her.

"What?" Rosalind asked, her voice quieter now.

Alaric did not answer her as a brief silence hung between them.

Instead his lips came down on hers without warning, cutting off her breath. His arms wrapped tightly around her waist as he kissed her, the taste of wine lingering between them as he deepened it without hesitation and Rosalind froze before she tried to pull away.

But the more Rosalind tried to pull away, the tighter his hold became, until her resistance had nowhere to go.

A weak sound escaped her as she pressed her hands against his chest, trying to push him back. The pressure of it all left her breath uneven as the taste of blood began to form faintly in her mouth.

Rowan’s fists clenched at his sides as he watched, something in him reacting sharply to the sight. It was not just the force of it, but the way Rosalind struggled beneath him.

...and his right foot inclined an inch, his jaw tight.

"Please... stop," Rosalind managed weakly against his mouth, but Alaric only shifted slightly and continued as though he had not heard her at all.

"Alaric..." she tried again, her voice breaking, but there was still no response.

Rowan stopped thinking and moved.

Each step toward them sent a surge of adrenaline through him, and the tension in his body sharpened with every stride until he reached them and seized Alaric by the shoulder, pulling him back just enough to break the moment.

Alaric’s head snapped toward him immediately, his expression darkening at the interruption.

Rosalind drew in a breath immediately, her lungs filling quickly as she pulled away, her lips swollen and bruised.

For a moment, everything seemed to freeze as the king glared at the lowly footman.

"How dare..." Alaric began sharply, but Rowan did not allow him to finish.

His fist connected with the king’s face in a single, solid motion.

Alaric stumbled backward and fell, the impact breaking the stillness completely as Rosalind gasped, her eyes widening in shock while dread filled her chest.

She turned toward Rowan, voice trembling.

"What have you done?"