Chapter 44: Within His Grasp

Chapter 44: Within His GraspAriana’s heart stuttered as time seemed to slow. It seemed the lady had realized Zavren’s gaze was elsewhere—and not on her. As she followed it, she found... nothing. Her brow lifted in confusion. What kind of window could possibly intrigue the king so much that he didn’t even let his lips graze her knuckles? Yet, her heart thudded from the warmth of his breath that still lingered there. "I see you like windows, my king," she said with a graceful smile. "My father has the best recommendations—skilled and uniquely exotic. You’ll love them." Zavren pulled back, his gaze drifting to the now-moving carriages preparing to leave. Raven stood on the other side, head bowed low. "Hm." A predatory smile curled Zavren’s lips, devoid of warmth. His eyes flicked back to the lady. The moment their gazes locked, she immediately looked away—either from the intensity or, more likely, fear. "I had no idea your father had taken up the window business. Interesting—at least he’s finally found something he’s good at," Zavren said, his tone laced with sarcasm and boredom. The lady managed a soft laugh, though the insult clearly landed deeper than she would dare admit. Still, she forced a polite smile, using her upper fingers to shield her mouth—exactly as she had been taught. "Raven, escort Lady Sofia to her quarters," Zavren said, his tone dry and disinterested. "It seems she may need some rest." Raven bowed respectfully. Zavren’s gaze nonchalantly swept back to her. "If you have more to say about your window advert speech, tell him he can pass the information to me—if it ever becomes remotely necessary." The woman’s face paled even more. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, Zavren was already gone. She bit her lip in disbelief and humiliation. * * Ariana groaned inwardly. She was now dressed in a simple gown—the kind that clearly declared she had no plans of leaving until the next day. She had planned to tell Leah to send food to her room, thinking that would be better. It was a sleeveless silk night gown, pure white and long enough to brush her ankles. But the real problem now... was the boot. She had managed to tug off the first one, but the second was proving to be a challenge. A stubborn, frustrating challenge. She’d told herself that once she finished dressing, she’d calm down, try again, and everything would fall into place. Yet here she was, still battling a boot—as if it were mocking her. Mocking her for all the things she could never quite have, even when she tried. And right now, she wasn’t sure who she was more annoyed at—the boot or... Zavren. ’If he has mistresses, then I should be informed. Not that I care—but I am the queen. I have every single right to know...’ Her thoughts drifted as the truth of her own words struck her. Does it even matter? You’re planning to escape, and yet you’re thinking about him? her inner voice snapped. Still, she couldn’t ignore the faint ache in her chest—the image of that woman’s bouncing curls lingering in her mind far longer than she liked. She hobbled toward the bed, her movement awkward and uneven—one foot bare, the other still trapped in the boot—making her steps look both strained and strange, like a girl trying to cosplay an old man without a walking stick. She huffed, pursing her lips. ’This is all your fault—for trying to see how it feels, just like in all those books you read,’ she scolded herself silently. She had spent hours in local libraries, devouring book after book, letting her curiosity grow unchecked. Curiosity... that had led her straight into the devil’s den. That night, she had only meant to clean the spilled wine on the floor. Just that. Nothing more. But after seeing him—wrapped in nothing but a towel—something in her snapped. And instead of walking away, she touched the devil’s horn. Now here she sat, with his child inside her. A soft breath escaped her lips. What had the Alpha King even been doing at a local motel that night? The questions circled endlessly in her mind. But her thoughts were abruptly cut short by reality. ’Focus on the boot’ She bent forward, lowering her body in an attempt to pull off the annoying boot. With a frustrated sigh, she slid to the floor, curling her legs up to get a better grip. Still nothing. Her chest rose and fell with effort. Just as she bent her leg again— CRACK. A soft pop echoed from her waist. Ariana froze. Was that her bone again? This was the second time today. She stared at the ceiling in disbelief. "Wonderful," she muttered in her head sarcastically. She braced herself to stand, her movements strained. Maybe she could try one last time... But before she could move, the door creaked open. Her heart skipped violently in her chest. No one needed to tell her who it was. Zavren. He entered with effortless grace, his gaze instantly finding her. One brow arched at the sight before him—his wife, awkwardly seated on the floor, one hand gripping her leg in sheer frustration. It might’ve looked funny... if not for the way his expression suddenly darkened. He had noticed the tension in her shoulders just as he walked in. Without a word, he crossed the room and stopped in front of her. Then, gently, he took her hands and helped her up—only to pull her into his arms and down onto his lap as he sat on the bed. Ariana’s body remained unmoving, but he guided her hands up to wrap around his neck. Her lips pressed together as her heart began to pound wildly in her chest. Something about this felt... different. Charged. Intimate. She made sure to avoid his gaze. She barely had time to process before he leaned forward, lifted her leg, and—much to her surprise—began to unbuckle the straps of her boot. Her face flushed crimson. S..Straps?! So that was the problem. No wonder she couldn’t get it off. But how had she managed to remove the other one? The other one had been neither too tight nor too loose. ’How could you not have checked,’ Ariana? "I’m guessing this is your first time with boots," Zavren murmured, his voice low and silky, words curling like warm smoke around her. "Next time, ask someone for help." Her breath caught. His voice—it did things. Terrible, toe-curling things. And still, he acted so casually—as if he hadn’t kissed a lady’s hand earlier. But only if she knew his lips barely grazed her knuckles... Once the boot slipped free, his large hand didn’t move away. Instead, it cradled her small foot. Ariana’s breath hitched. Then, slowly, Zavren traced a finger along the arch of her foot. She jolted—softly, but noticeably. He moved again to the center of her foot, drawing a straight line through it. The touch of his finger sent a sensation spiraling from her foot, dancing up her thigh, awakening nerves she didn’t know existed. W-What was that? To her surprise, he caressed her ankle softly, almost as if trying to soothe the pain. Ariana hadn’t even realized her foot were now hurting due to her forcefully pulling trials earlier—too distracted by him. That pain had faded into the background the moment his presence filled the room. "You were at the library," Zavren said. She couldn’t tell if it was a question or a statement, but she nodded anyway. "Tell me what led you there," he added quietly, watching her turn her head to the side, avoiding his gaze. A slow, unreadable smile curled on his lips—it never reached his eyes. Then, to her shock, he stood and lifted her into his arms without warning. Ariana’s eyes widened in surprise. She hadn’t expected that. He walked toward the table and opened the drawer. Her heart warmed slightly at the sight: books of all kinds, neatly arranged, alongside different pens and notes. She had never opened that drawer before. He had placed them there... in case she ever needed them. Thoughtful, yet unspoken. Returning to his seat, he sat down, pulling her gently upright. His gaze lingered on her lips—his jaw clenched. The very lips that had haunted his thoughts during his travels. And now, watching her bite them lightly, unconsciously, was making his control slip. Those soft, plump lips were becoming an addiction. He handed her a small book. She opened it, and he said, "Go on. Tell me everything that happened while I was gone." She picked up a pen and hesitated, her golden eyes locking with his, before writing something and turning the page toward him: Do you read minds? She knew that wasn’t what he had asked—but she just wanted to know. Zavren’s hand suddenly cupped her jaw, making her breath catch in disbelief. His crimson-grey gaze pinned her in place, intense and unwavering. "Your eyes... they change color. Are you aware of that?" he said, his voice low. "They shift from hazel to gold depending on your mood. I can read your emotions through them." Ariana’s eyes widened—she had no idea. "You cannot convince me you’re merely human, sweetheart," he added, voice now darker. "Even your father doesn’t truly know who his daughter is." What had her father told him? She wondered. Ariana’s lips pulled into a frown. Was he trying to say something more? What did he mean by that? "My apologies... if that sounded harsh," he said. But the words were empty—cold. There wasn’t a trace of sympathy in his voice. She scribbled quickly, holding the book up again: Did you mean those words? The moment he read them, a slow, dangerous grin stretched across his lips. "No," he said—the word falling from his mouth like a quiet threat. Ariana stared at him, stunned. What kind of man was this? How did his mind even work? He was truly a devil. It seems like the rumors about this man were all true, Ariana said to herself. To her surprise, Zavren laughed—dry and deadly, as if he had read her thoughts. Then came the final blow—his voice dipped into a gravelly calm, dragging her into a chilling stillness. "I know you hate me, sweetheart... and that’s exactly why I need you beside me. The more you loathe me, the tighter I’ll hold on." Ariana’s eyes widened in horror as his finger slowly tilted her chin up. His touch was gentle, but his voice was poison—eerily calm and soaked in menace as her body trembled in fear. "You can run... hide... curse my name... it won’t change a thing. You’ll always be within my grasp, snowflake. So have that in mind, darling." And in that moment, Ariana realized— Fear wasn’t the worst part. It was the terrifying truth in his words.