~MOUSE~
The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a lone light casting long shadows across the worn concrete floor.
Ophelia's footsteps echoed in the silence as she approached her bed, exhaustion tugging at her every movement.
The weight of the night clung to her like a second skin, and the scent of alcohol lingered in the air as she relished the buzz in her veins.
Her fingers moved with practised ease, skilfully unlacing her boots.
The leather surrendered its grip reluctantly, and as each lace was pulled free, a sense of release washed over her.
The alcohol coursed through her veins, a fiery river that heightened every sensation.
A bead of sweat traced a path down the nape of her neck as she kicked the boots aside, their thuds resonating in the quiet room.
She pulled her hoodie off and left her in her sports bra and her floppy cargo pants.
The air felt charged with a strange intensity, and Ophelia couldn't shake the feeling of eyes upon her.
The room held its breath as Ophelia sensed the weight of the König's stare settling on her.
He was glaring at her from the doorway still.
In fact, he hadn't moved at all.
The air, thick with tension, seemed to pulse with an intensity that matched the unreadable expression playing over his storming blue eyes.
He was pissed.
Ophelia's heart quickened its pace, a rhythmic echo of the unspoken dynamics between them.
She didn't understand.
The room seemed to pulse with the unspoken tension as Ophelia's gaze lingered on König.
He was wearing the same clothes he had been during the day. Cargo pants and a shirt.
Strong arms littered with scars on display as he crossed them over his chest.
Her gaze moved back to his eyes.
They held a depth that mirrored the ocean, its hues shifting like the waves under the caress of the sun.
The beauty of his eyes was almost disarming, a mesmerizing force that drew her in like a sailor succumbing to the allure of the open sea.
But the anger in them pulled her back from her thoughts.
"Something wrong, Sir?" Ophelia inquired sarcastically, her voice cutting through the charged silence.
She nonchalantly shoved her boots under the bed, the casual gesture contrasting with the intensity of his posture.
Sitting back on her hands, she met his angry stare with a calm demeanour, her eyes reflecting her defiance.
She was not going to be pushed around by him.
Something the alcohol in her veins said was a very good idea.
His gaze bore into her as if trying to unravel her mind.
The air between them crackled with a charged energy, a storm brewing in the quiet of the room.
"You're drunk," he declared stiffly, the words carrying a weight that hung between them like an unspoken accusation.
YOU ARE READING
The Mouse and The Monarch
Fanfiction~She embodied the essence of his world, a captivating masterpiece sculpted with the strokes of both his fervent passion and haunting despair~ Ophelia Moreau. Otherwise known as Mouse. A French Sergeant turned KorTac Operative who has major temper i...
