Page 124 of Lethal King

Fuck. I can’t believe I kissed her.

It was only to shut her up, I tell myself. But the truth is much simpler than that.

I kissed her because I wanted to.

In that moment, it’s all I wanted to do.

“Feeling better?” I ask, just as Rozalia rips the last bits of flesh from the bony carcass.

“Much,” she grumbles. “Maybe now I’ll finally have the strength I need to properly kill you.”

“Touch me again and see where that gets you,” I smirk.

To my surprise, Rozalia’s pale cheeks redden ever so slightly. Throwing the scraps of her meal to the floor, she tries her best to look away from me.

But there’s no escape.

I take another step forward.

“You know this means nothing, right?” she says, still averting her gaze.

“What means nothing?” I play dumb. My cock is already begging to be back inside of her.

“The sex. The games. That… that fucking kiss.”

“I never said it meant anything.”

“I’m just trying to make sure you don’t catch feelings.”

I nearly choke on my own spit.

“Why? Are you afraid to hurt me?” I taunt, trying to play off how close she is to hitting a nerve.

I take another step forward, and Rozalia retreats further. But her back quickly reaches the wall.

“I’m not afraid of anything,” she postures. “But I sure don’t want to be stuck in here with a madman. And who knows how crazy you’ll get if I hurt your stupid little feelings.”

“Oh, I’ve already lost my mind,” I chuckle.

My full stomach helps lighten my mood. Still, I can’t shake the intense feeling that something has changed between us. Something big.

“Clearly,” Rozalia huffs. “Because I could have sworn I heard you say you didn’t want to marry me—yet you recently made a very public announcement saying the exact opposite.”

Biting down on my tongue, I remember how that confession likely saved my life. It was only when I admitted that I didn’t actually want to marry her that Rozalia finally allowed her grip to loosen.

But how much do I reveal to my enemy?

Lifting my bandaged hand to my neck, I feel the deep marks she’s left around my throat. It’s like an inverted collar. Strangely enough, I’m not completely offended. Hell, I’m not even that pissed off.

She earned it.

“You answer my questions, and I’ll answer yours,” I tell her.

“I don’t negotiate,” Rozalia spits. But her back is literally up against the wall. And as I continue my slow approach, there’s nothing she can do but look up at me with a conflicted hate burning behind her perfect green eyes.

“I’m not negotiating, kitten. I’m telling. You’re in no position to negotiate.”

“Stop calling me kitten,” she demands.