Claimed By The Tyrant King

Warning: This Chapter contains mature content and vulgar words. Feel free to skip if it makes you uncomfortable!

When the door to Rosalind’s room opened that night, Alaric stepped inside, and she immediately rose from the bed with surprise flashing across her face.

"Your Majesty?" she called, the words leaving her lips more as a question than a greeting.

It was not something often heard of... the king coming to a mistress’s chamber unannounced. Usually, they were the ones summoned to him, never the other way around. Now that he was here, she could only wonder what had brought him, and for a moment, her mind failed to connect it to what he had said to her earlier at the ball.

Alaric entered as though the room belonged to him, his hands clasped behind his back, his presence immediately swallowing the space.

"Rosalind," he said, his eyes sweeping over her as he took in the fact that she had already changed out of her gown.

By now, the ball had ended and the nobles had all retired for the night, which was why he had come to see her after the incident that had happened earlier.

"Did you sustain any injuries?" he asked.

Rosalind shook her head.

The answer seemed to please him, and something darkly satisfied flickered in his expression, as if nothing could be allowed to happen to what he considered his.

Alaric closed the distance between them, and Rosalind found herself rooted to the spot as he lifted a hand and gently cradled her face. His fingers traced softly along her cheek.

"You scared me for a moment, Rosalind," he murmured, his voice low and smooth.

Then he added, "You should be more careful,"

Rosalind wondered somewhere if this was entirely her fault. There was no way she would have predicted that... but the gentleness in his voice and the look in his eyes almost fooled her into believing, if only for a moment, that he truly cared.

Until she realized why he had really come.

Stepping back, Alaric reached behind him and tossed something onto the bed. "I brought a little something for you," he said.

Rosalind’s gaze slowly shifted to the red dress now lying across the sheets, and she recognized it immediately from the fitting room that day and her throat went dry.

"I promised you we would have so much to do tonight," he said with a smile that made heat curl uneasily in her stomach.

Rosalind fought to keep her expression composed, though her fists tightened slowly at her sides.

Even after what had happened... even after she had nearly died...

He still thought only of himself.

"Change into it, my sweet rose," Alaric said, before taking a seat on the bed and crossing one leg over the other, as though he owned not only the room but every breath within it.

Rosalind stared at him, unable to believe what she was hearing.

Noticing her hesitation, his eyes narrowed at her sharply, "I thought you had learned not to keep me waiting."

When Rosalind reached for the bed and picked up the red dress, at once, satisfaction curled across his lips.

Just as she turned to change elsewhere, his voice stopped her. "Where are you going?"

The words echoed through the quiet room, and her heart gave a sharp, nervous beat.

"To change?" she asked carefully, because that was what he had told her to do.

Alaric let out a low chuckle. "No, my sweet rose."

Rosalind’s brows drew together in confusion. He just asked her to change...

"Change right here." The words sliced straight through her thoughts.

Heat rushed instantly across her face, crawling down her neck and through the rest of her body.

What!?

Surely she had heard him wrong.

Her throat tightened as she swallowed hard.

He could not possibly be asking her to undress in front of him.

But the dark steadiness in his gaze told her she had heard him perfectly.

It was humiliating...

Worse than humiliating.

She had intended to sleep, and beneath the dress she now wore, there was almost nothing left but her undergarments. The mere thought of him seeing that sent another wave of heat curling low in her stomach.

"Your Majesty, please..." Rosalind pleaded softly.

But his expression only darkened further.

"You impressed me with the dance, Rosalind," Alaric admitted.

"And you have put me in a very good mood. Do not be foolish enough to ruin it." There was a warning in his voice that made it difficult for her to breathe.

Her eyes flickered down and landed on his foot, where his leg tapped slowly against the floor in growing impatience. He would not wait much longer.

Rosalind drew in a deep breath.

What dignity did she have left to protect?

After everything he had already made her do, what more remained to be taken from her?

Slowly, her trembling fingers reached for the side of her dress.

Alaric watched in open anticipation, the faint smile never leaving his lips.

"Can you please look away?" Rosalind asked one last time, her voice barely above a whisper.

The answer came immediately. "No."

[Of course]

Alaric was never a gentleman, and she knew better than to expect mercy from him.

Rosalind finally gave up asking. With unsteady fingers, she tugged at the knot at the side of her waist, and the ribbon came loose.

As the fabric slackened around her body, loosening enough to threaten a fall, Alaric’s focus remained on her.

Rosalind slowly pulled the dress down over her shoulders, the cool air brushed against her bare skin, but the chill did not last for long. It was quickly replaced by a spreading warmth beneath the weight of his stare, and her skin flushed under it.

Slowly, she slid the fabric past her arms while Alaric followed every movement she made, until the dress finally slipped from her body and fell to the floor with a soft thud.

She did not even realize that the way she had undressed slowly was enough to stir the man before her. Had she known, she would have rushed through it and spared herself the intensity of the way he was looking at her now.

Alaric’s gaze drifted slowly over the curve of her body, and he had to force himself to remain still.

This was the first time he was seeing Rosalind like this... His attention moved slowly over the soft swell of her breasts and the elegant curve of her waist, and every inch of her seemed designed to undo the control he was fighting to keep.

He could already feel himself hardening by the dirty images that came to his mind.

Meanwhile, Rosalind remained unaware of the lewd thoughts running through him.

Her only concern was getting the red dress over her body as quickly as possible, not knowing that his lewd thoughts had already done justice to every curve she possessed.

Once she had adjusted the straps over her shoulders, she realized just how snugly the dress clung to her. It hugged every line of her shape, leaving almost nothing to the imagination, and when her gaze lifted back to Alaric, she noticed that he seemed momentarily lost in a daze. Her lips pressed together at the sight.

"If I were not a king," Alaric said at last, his voice lower now, "I would have fallen at your feet and worshipped you like a goddess."

Rosalind hated the way her body reacted to him, hated the warmth that curled low in her stomach at the sound of his voice.

If he continued to look at her like that, she feared she would not survive the night with her senses intact.

She saw him rise from the bed and went completely still.

Alaric began to move toward her as he held her stare, and every step he took seemed to make the room feel smaller.

The moment he stopped before her, Rosalind held her breath.

What now?

Part of her was afraid, yet another part of her waited in anticipation, because he always seemed to know exactly where to touch her to send her heart spiraling out of control.

But instead of touching her at once, Alaric began to slowly circle her as if he were a predator studying his prey. Rosalind’s heartbeat leapt violently in her chest with every step he took around her.

When he had finally taken in his fill of looking at her, she felt him come to a stop behind her.

He leaned in close, and the heat of his breath brushed against her ear.

Alaric’s fingers slowly traced the length of her arm, gliding down with slowness before traveling back up again, sending a shiver straight down her spine.

"Do you know, Rosalind," he began, his voice a low murmur against her ear, "seeing you in this red dress makes me want to take you right here."

Rosalind shivered as his lips grazed the edge of her ear. "I want to touch every part of you," he whispered, his voice turning darker and more seductive. "I want to kiss you and feel your body wrapped around mine as I claim you completely."

Her lips parted on their own, and a slow breath escaped her.

"I want every deep thrust to make you think of me," he continued, his voice like silk and temptation, "and I want to be the only man in your mind while I make you see stars, sweet Rosalind."

The words alone were enough to send a rush of heat through her body, and she could already feel the damp warmth gathering between her thighs.

Rosalind closed her eyes as his arms slowly wrapped around her waist. His fingers traced the curve of her body, sliding down over her thighs before gliding back up again, and a soft moan escaped her before she could stop it.

The moment his hands returned to her waist, his hold tightened. "But I know it is better to wait, Rosalind," Alaric said, the restraint in his voice sounding almost strained. "The sweetest fruit is always worth the patience."

The words left him with effort. Just holding her like this was enough to push him dangerously close to losing control, yet he forced himself to remain calm. Rosalind was unlike any other woman he had ever known, and because of that, he intended to shape her into exactly what he wanted before fully indulging himself.

His hand rose slowly to her neck, cradling it to face him without turning her body and their eyes met.

For a moment, neither of them moved, then Alaric slowly closed the distance, and when his lips finally met hers, a soft breath escaped Rosalind as the heat between them deepened.