“N-No.” The words were there, out in the open — they were a rejection, they were a denial and they were, well, clearly disobeying the King.
But I said them anyways.
“No?” He murmured against my lips as if perplexed, his eyebrows furrowed and his body tightened. There were specks of golden burning in his irises, I couldn’t look away — I was mesmerised.
Death has some, death has come, death has come. My brain chanted the slogan. I swallowed, still clutching the lapels of his leather jacket. Cut from bull leather. With a male scent of wood, spice and with him — the aura of power and masculinity intensified.
It felt as if he was trying hard to ponder the grave magnitude of my words but was far too busy staring at my lips; engaged in an inner battle.
To kiss me or strangle me?
“No..
