Page 126 of Lethal King

“Six months.”

“How long ago did you take it?”

“I take it every six months, on the fucking dot—whether I’m being chased by a mad king or not.”

“How many men are you sleeping with?” The jealousy in my question is impossible to filter out.

“Fuck men.”

“No. You are only allowed to fuck one man. Me. Now, tell me who else you’ve slept with.”

“Why? You want to fuck them too?”

“I want to kill them.”

Rozalia tries to pull out of my grip again, but I don’t let up.

“Be my guest,” she sneers. “While you’re out chasing ghosts, maybe I’ll get a chance to finally breathe.”

“You’re telling me a beautiful young woman like you isn’t having any sex?”

“I don’t have time,” Rozalia responds. “The only men who cross my path are the ones I kill.”

“Have you killed Leander?”

This time, when Rozalia tries to pull away, she’s not just doing it for show. But it doesn’t matter how much effort she puts into it, I’m still far stronger than her.

“Leander is nothing to me,” she rasps.

I push her against the wall.

Her perfect tits press into my chest as I hold her in place. My cock is already rock hard. I want more of her.

And she wants more of me. Even through the fabric of her black top, I can feel how perky her nipples are.

But before I’ll allow myself to taste more of her, I need to get some answers.

“If Leander is nothing to you, then why did you dress up all nice to meet him? Why a fancy restaurant and not some back alley?”

“Because billionaires don’t meet in back alleys,” Rozalia snidely responds, her green eyes glimmering an inch away from mine.

“I met you in a back alley,” I remind her.

“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to? That was a hologram. My hologram. You weren’t there.”

“I was in spirit,” I play.

With that, I push myself off the wall. Still, I keep Rozalia’s arm gripped tightly between my fingers.

“You have no spirit,” Rozalia huffs. “You’re a soulless monster.”

“Just like you?”

“… Just like me.”

Rozalia’s sharp gaze falters, and when her head drops, I finally let go of her arm. But only so I can pinch her chin.

“We’re not so different,” I say, lifting her head back up.