Filed to story: The Alpha Kings Hated Slave
My Danika,the words whispered in her mind again.
Ahh, but what a good hallucination that would have been if it were true-if it wasn’t a figment of her mind. She was determined to watch over him until morning. She watched him until her eyes became heavy.
Danika fell asleep with her head resting on his chest.
It was the wee hours of the morning, the windows still dark with the black of night, when the king’s eyes opened..
CRACKS OF ICE
He turned his head to find Danika sleeping soundly with her head on his chest. He stared at her blond head laying on his body, watching the rise and fall of her breathing as she slept peacefully.
The events of the day before filled his head. He remembered vividly when the arrow struck his chest-and her scream of horror.
Now, he just watched her. He didn’t know how long had passed.
He distinctly remembered the soft sound of weeping and words he’d heard while he was unconscious. He could still remember hearing her voice, but he couldn’t remember the words she spoke. But whatever they were, they were soothing. And they calmed the beasts raging in his subconscious there to devour him at that state.
She had put her arms around him, hugging him tight, while she whispered those words as his mind trapped him on the very day they killed Declan.
Now she was sleeping beside him. He allowed himself to watch her unabashedly. She was so beautiful, so angelic-even in sleep. He wasn’t supposed to notice this, but he did. He marveled that Cone fathered this woman. This woman thatspent the night alone in his bedroom when he was down and at her mercy, and hadn’t harmed him –
She stirred, and her eyes opened. Their eyes met. Her mind was sluggish, and so they stared into each other’s eyes for a few seconds.
Then her eyes widened, and she whipped her head from his chest. “Master, you’re awake!”
“I am. Why? You want me dead?” he said, but the usual hate and coldness was absent from his eyes.
“No.” She shook her head adamantly. “No, Master. I don’t want you dead.”
He said nothing. Instead, his eyes watched her with that unreadable expression that had become a second cloak to him. Finally, he averted his eyes. “Who left me in your care?”
“It was… Madam Baski.”
“Baski seems to have taken a gamble with my life, leaving me all night alone in the care of Cone’s daughter.” His lips thinned.
Danika’s eyes widened. She pushed down the hurt that spread through her body on his judgment of her and bowed her head to him. “I would never do anything that would cause you harm,” she whispered.
Silence. The only sound she heard were the chirping of birds and the rustling of the wind.
Then he blinked his eyes slowly and averted them. “I wouldn’t have believed you were capable of kindness before. The Creator must be playing a cruel joke, because now I see myself believing you.” He said in a voice so low, Danika strained to hear him. And as the words left his mouth, the hurt in her heart disappeared.
Trust. No matter how little the trust was, she felt jittery on the insides because she knew that trust was hardest for him to give. And now, she had earned just a little of it. She would cherish that bit for eternity.
“I’m thirsty,” he rasped.
“I’ll get you water, Master.” She got up from her chair, took one of his long wooden cups, and walked out of his chambers. She didn’t have to go far because the courtyard nestled the best spring water just a few feet from the royal quarters. She bent down and filled her cup.
When she returned to his chambers, he hadn’t moved since she left. She locked the door and walked to him. She sat on the bed and waited patiently while he sat up a bit with his back resting on the headboard. He struggled with the movement, but Danika pretended not to notice.
Any progress she had made with her master would turn to dust if she ever tried to make him seem weak by offering to help him sit up.
Finally, in a better position, she offered the king the wooden cup, and he took it in from her. He downed the content slowly until nothing remained. Danika took the cup from him and dropped it on the ground. Her eyes scrutinized him as she made sure that he was alright. She wanted to place her hand on him to make sure his temperature was okay. She bit her lips and decided not to tempt the devil by putting her hand on the king without permission.
“What is it?” he asked reluctantly.
“May I check y-your temperature? Have to make sure,” she trailed off.
His eyebrow shot up. “You may.” He said, surprising her.
She leaned forward and placed her palm on his forehead. A feeling of relief rushed through her; his fever had broken. She slid the back of her palm down his neck and chest, her brows knitted in concentration. King Lucien could only feel her soft touch from his forehead to his neck, his chest.
How was it possible that the touch that should repulse him was the only touch he could feel without disgust and discomfort?
“Your fever has broken, Master,” she whispered with relief in her voice.
“You undressed me.” His eyes pierced hers.
She swallowed tightly. It wasn’t a question, but she answered it anyway. “Yes, Master.”
His eyes hardened, and she watched his jaw lock. “Why?”
“You were r-running a high temperature, and I n-needed to run the cold water on you.” She swallowed nervously. “Your face and your neck weren’t breaking the fever. I knew I had to extend it to the rest of your body.”
“And now that you saw the damages your father made, does it repulse you?” he asked harshly, anger flashing in his eyes.
“No.”She shook her head firmly. “Battle scars are not repulsive, Master. I only saw the extent of your bravery.”
Similar words reverberated through his memory. Followed by the sound of her cries. She’d cried right here beside him and whispered to him that his scars were a mark of bravery. The marks that made him the lion he was.
Another chunk of ice cracked around his frozen heart and fell away.
He couldn’t stop staring at her. At the slight reactions she wasn’t aware of. The nervous way her hand gripped her nightclothes, the flush of her cheeks, the flash of her eyes.
His body had been reacting to her since he rose from slumber, but now his phallus hardened and lengthened.
He didn’t know that a man could get this way when he was unwell, and most definitely, not a man like him. What was it about her?
His eyes on her, he noticed the imprint of a hand on her cheek. “Who struck you?”
New Book: Veiled Desires of the Alpha King Novel
Dayson was the alpha of the largest pack in North America. Powerful figures from other packs sought to offer gorgeous girls as potential mates for Dayson. He steadfastly rejected these advances, he was not a pawn to be manipulated. But eventually there came a mysterious girl he could hardly say No. Who was she?