The Mouse and The Monarch

37

~KÖNIG~

The air was heavy with the intoxicating scent of her and sunlight.

He lay in the narrow bed, consumed by the woman who slept next to him, her skin searing into his own like coals.

She used to smell like sweet flowers and fruits.

But now it was replaced by the unmistakable aroma of him.

It was a scent that clung to her skin, an invisible thread weaving them together.

Every time he smelt it, he knew she belonged to him.

He hadn't expected it.

The feeling of harrowing need so deep it drove you fucking insane.

But from the first day she arrived, she had him ensnared.

She'd walked through that door, and he couldn't tear his eyes away.

A small, deadly force with a halo of brown curls that framed her head like a crown.

Her sun-kissed skin was dotted with dark freckles that he desperately wanted to taste.

To sink his teeth into and cover with marks.

But it was her eyes, deep pools of chocolate that seemed to melt with every gaze that had trapped him.

The memory of that wicked wink, her plump lips curling in mischief, echoed in his mind like a haunting melody.

He couldn't get it out of his head.

He couldn't get her out of his head.

He had never wanted anything as badly as he wanted Mouse.

It tore at him, begging him to do something, his cock hard every time she looked his way.

But it was his mind that stopped him.

His mind that told him to stay the fuck away.

And it had been right to warn him.

He knew he needed to be careful the first night.

He'd heard her cries of terror, and seen her body convulsing with pain as nightmares and memories rocked her.

He'd tried to help her, and the little fucking angel had tackled him to the ground, knife in hand.

It was the most amusing and arousing thing that had ever happened to him.

He thought he could pull it together.

He had never been so fucking wrong.

The day she flirted with Askel in the training ring proved that.

The pang of jealousy was like a knife to the gut, twisting and ripping at his muscles.

He wanted to plunge his knife into his own stomach to cut the feeling out, but he knew it wouldn't help.

So when she'd walked away from Askel and straight over to him, he made sure to keep her for as long as he could.

Watching her furious punches with a mix of arousal and possessiveness.

He revelled in the thought that she imagined him with every strike.

He needed her attention, craved it like a drug, and in a moment of madness, he'd lashed out, causing her pain.