Crowns of Resemblance by H.K. Laurin

Author:H.K. Laurin [Laurin, H.K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2024-05-17T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

Ellesandra

For all his regalia, the King of Risian is the most rotten, miserable excuse of a creature I’ve been forced to endure.

Thick, tense silence descends as we glare at one another. The bastard knows I’d rather see my tongue removed before I lower myself to begging. Queens don’t beg.

I try to rise, only to realize I’m unable to escape. The King of Risian hovers over me, the smug grin stretching across his face impossibly further as he nestles his thigh between my legs. Warmth radiates from his chest as his arm remains banded across my chest. Frustration claws at me when I squirm and it does nothing more than remind me of the ache between my legs.

“I despise you,” I grind out when he shifts his thigh and a fresh wave of need flows through me.

He tsks and shakes his head. A haze of lust threatens to cloud my vision when he peppers wet, open-mouthed kisses along my collarbone. “The way you ground your pretty cunt against my hand moments ago speaks differently.”

I open my mouth to tell him that I’d rather throw myself from the highest window of the palace than allow him to lay his hands on me again. All thoughts of doing so float to the stars as his lips move further down my chest. The bond preens as he shifts, and his free hand wraps around my wrists above my head.

His gaze is iron-clad when he raises his head. My longing to escape wanes as we stare at one another. His eyes are the brightest shade of blue that temper my soul with burning desire. They forge a thousand swords of yearning that pierce the organ inside my chest. It’s too much to bear.

“Five hundred years and your body still sings for me,” he whispers in wonderment. His gaze never strays from my face.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, commanding my senses to focus with the understanding that he’s trying to goad me. While I’ve known this day would always come, I don’t have to play a further part in such foolishness. The smell of fresh parchment and the delectable blackberry wine that puddles beside my hand fills my nose. Sheets of rain lash against the window pane and strike the glass to the beat of a steady drum.

I take another deep breath. My back aches as I splay my fingers across the smooth wood of the war table. Upon its creation, my father felt it was fitting that the strategy table be made from wood of the evodia trees. I imagine the particular scenario I’ve been thrust into now wasn’t what he had in mind.

My eyes spring open when the wood begins to bite into my back and I shift uncomfortably. The King of Risian’s hold disappears on me with my next breath.

Despite the dizziness that washes over me, I don’t allow myself a moment to gather my bearings as I sit upright. I stand and smooth the skirts of my gown as befitting of my title.

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