Chapter 8 Serve the King
The words weren’t a request, they were a command.
Althea stood on slightly shaky legs. Her heart thudded wildly against her chest as she stepped closer, closing the distance between them. Her hands hovered for a second before she reached up and began to undo the clasps on his armor. One by one, she removed the outer layers, careful with every motion.
When her fingers brushed his skin by accident, she felt the heat of him. Althea tried to keep her eyes trained on the clasps and layers of his clothes, but it was impossible not to notice.
Beneath the fabric, Gavriel’s body was carved like it had been shaped from stone. Hard lines, strong muscle, and flawless skin that bore old scars like badges of war. His chest rose and fell steadily, and the heat radiating from him made her feel like her skin was burning just by being close.
He didn’t speak, didn’t blink. He just watched her.
Her fingers fumbled slightly as she tugged at the last piece of his tunic. It slid from his shoulders and dropped to the ground, and Althea sucked in a quiet breath. She didn’t mean to look but her eyes betrayed her. They flicked down over the broad plane of his chest, the defined lines of his abs, and the way his powerful body seemed to hum with restrained strength.
Gavriel tilted his head slightly, catching her stare. "See something you like?"
Her cheeks flamed instantly. “No,” she muttered, dropping her eyes and stepping back.
His lips curved, just barely. Not a smile. More like amusement with a hint of danger. “Lying to your king, Althea?”
She opened her mouth to reply, but no sound came out. He stepped forward, closing the space she’d just created. His hand lifted slowly, deliberately, and trailed a knuckle along her jaw.
“I told you,” he murmured, voice deep and quiet, “your life is mine now.”
Then he stepped past her, walking to the small bath behind the divider in the tent.
“Bring me the towel,” he called without turning.
Althea hesitated, then grabbed the folded towel from the table. Her hands were trembling, but she didn’t dare disobey.
As she approached, she saw him already submerged waist-deep in the steaming water, his back facing her. The muscles in his back flexed slightly as he leaned forward, arms resting on the edge of the tub. He looked relaxed but she knew better. There was nothing relaxed about Gavriel Kingsley.
She set the towel down on the nearby stand.
“Come closer.”
Her feet moved before she could second-guess it. She stopped just behind him, heart in her throat.
Gavriel glanced over his shoulder. “Join me.”
Althea swallowed hard. “I… I didn’t think-”
“You’re mine now,” he cut her off, voice low. “You don’t get to hide anymore.” Then, in a tone darker than before, he added, “Undress.”
Althea’s hand trembled slightly as she reached for the first tie on her dress. If she wanted to survive, she had to please the Alpha King, no matter what it cost her. This was the path she chose.
‘There was no turning back now,’ she silently reminded herself again.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she remembered what Melva had told her… how the Alpha King didn’t even blink when he killed Lady Cara.
Lady Cara, a noble-born and well-respected warrior, had begged for her life. Yet Gavriel ended it without hesitation.
It would surely cause a stir. The council might question it, whispers would spread… but no one would dare challenge him. That was what made Gavriel Kingsley so feared. His wrath was merciless, his word final. No one was safe from his judgment, not even someone with noble blood.
That was the kind of man Althea was bound to now.
She swallowed hard, her fingers fumbling over the fabric of her dress. Her skin prickled, the air in the tent thick with the scent of soap, clean leather, and the powerful presence of the man waiting behind her.
And he was watching her.
She didn’t need to turn around to know. She could feel his gaze, heavy and possessive, following every movement she made.
She could already feel the mate bond tightening between them again, drawing her in, messing with her thoughts and her body. Something in her blood stirred beneath her skin, even if she had no wolf. The pull was undeniable.
And she hated how her body responded to him… even when her mind screamed not to.
Althea closed her eyes for a moment, drawing in a shaky breath before continuing to undress, knowing that once the last layer fell, there would be no more room for hesitation.
No more pretending she wasn’t terrified. No more pretending this was just a game. Because it wasn’t, this was survival.
Steam curled into the air as the bathwater rippled softly. Gavriel leaned back against the smooth edge of the tub, his arms stretched along the rim, every inch of him radiating command and quiet control.
Althea tried not to stare but her eyes betrayed her. He looked dangerous but maddeningly irresistible at the same time.
She swallowed hard and looked away.
But she could feel it, his gaze, hot and unrelenting as it roamed over her naked body from head to toe. It made her body tremble, anticipation clawing through her veins.
“Come here,” he said, voice low and rough.
Her heart pounded so loudly, she wondered if he could hear it. Still, she stepped forward, her bare feet silent on the floor. As soon as she was close enough, his hand reached out, firm, possessive, and he pulled her into the warm water.
She gasped, not from the temperature, but from the sudden feel of his body, solid and strong against hers. His hand settled at her back, holding her in place as the water sloshed gently around them.
“Sit,” he murmured, his lips brushing her temple. “On me.”
She hesitated but only for a second.
Then, slowly, she moved, climbing onto his lap. Her knees sank into the warm water, straddling him. Her breath caught as her bare skin brushed his. Gavriel didn’t touch her.
Not yet.
But the way his eyes dragged over her, slow, deliberate, heated, made her feel like she was already being consumed. Her cheeks flushed a deep red. Not from the heat of the bathwater, but from the solid pressure she felt beneath her, hard and unmistakable, grazing between her thighs.
She gasped softly.
“Urghhh,” Gavriel growled low in his throat, his hands finally rising, gripping her waist with firm possession.
His eyes were still locked onto hers. Dark. Burning. Devouring. A storm held barely in check.
“You feel that?” he muttered, voice like gravel. “That’s what you do to me.”
Althea opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her body trembled, not from fear this time but something far more dangerous. Want. Need. The pull of the mate bond, pulling her straight into the fire.
“I haven’t even started,” he added, voice rough, before one hand slid up her back and into her damp hair, fisting it tightly. “But you will remember tonight.”
His head dipped lower. She stiffened as his mouth brushed the skin of her neck, right where he’d marked her. He inhaled, lips grazing the spot again and again like he was trying to commit her scent to memory.
“You smell like fire and sweetness,” he rasped, kissing lower now, down the curve of her neck to her collarbone. “And I hate that I crave it.”
His lips pressed harder. She arched involuntarily into his chest, her breath shuddering.
Althea’s fingers dug into his shoulders as her heart pounded in her chest. The mate bond was burning hot between them, but this didn’t feel like love. It didn’t feel like tenderness.
It felt like war. And she wasn’t sure who was winning anymore.
“You drive me insane,” he murmured, his voice a growl vibrating against her throat. “Everything about you… your scent, your mouth, your defiance…”
His hands traveled up her sides, slow and firm, making her shiver. His fingers splayed over her back, pressing her chest flush against him. Her skin tingled from every inch of contact, hypersensitive from the bathwater and the heat of his touch.
She hated the way her body reacted, how it arched into him without command. How it melted at his words.
“You can have me,” she whispered, her eyes, bold despite the way her body trembled, met his without wavering. “Body and soul, if that’s what you want.”
Gavriel’s eyes darkened at her words, his jaw tightening. He leaned down, his lips a breath away from hers. “But there’s one thing,” she added, her voice sharper now. “One part of me you’ll never have.”
His hand slid to her throat, not in threat, but in a firm, possessive hold that made her breath hitch. His gaze locked on hers, unreadable and unrelenting.
“I don’t need your permission,” he growled, his voice rough and thick with desire. “I don’t care what part of you you think you can keep from me.”
He leaned closer, brushing his lips over her jaw, down to her collarbone. “I’ll devour you anyway.”