Chapter 186: Do I Look like An Old Man

Liona’s POV

The King stood frozen at the far end of the room, his broad back still turned to me.

His large hand remained clamped over the iron handle of the door, his knuckles turning white under the strain.

He hadn’t moved a single muscle since my threat had echoed through the quiet space.

I stood by the long wooden table, watching the heavy rise and fall of his shoulders beneath his black tunic.

He was breathing slowly, deeply, and deliberately, like a man counting the seconds in his head, desperately trying to pull himself back from the edge of a cliff.

The thick wave of dark, suffocating emotion radiating from him slowly began to settle, thinning out into the quiet air.

I swallowed the dry lump in my throat and forced my boots to take a slow, cautious step toward him.

"I am sorry," I said, my voice breaking the heavy quiet, sounding soft and heavy with regret.

He didn’t pull the door open. He didn’t drop his hand.

But his head tilted just a fraction to the side, listening.

I took another small step, my eyes pinned to the white hair falling over his tense shoulders.

"I got angry," I whispered, the words slipping out easier now that the ice between us had cracked. "After seeing one of your concubines lounging across my chamber sheets last night... my mind just went blank. I lashed out at you because of it."

The rigid line of his shoulders finally sloped downward, loosening just a little bit.

He let out a long, ragged breath that sounded like a low sigh, and then, slowly, he turned around to face me.

But the moment his gray eyes began to swing back toward the room, a sudden surge of defensive pride flared up in my chest.

If he thought I was just going to stand here and beg for his forgiveness, he was entirely wrong.

Before he could fully lock his gaze onto mine, I turned my back to him.

I spun on my heel, crossing my arms tightly over my chest and staring hard at the bare stone wall behind the long table.

I could feel the immediate weight of his stare burning into the fabric of my dress, tracking the stiff, unyielding posture of my spine.

I was indirectly turning the tables on him now, forcing him to look at my back the same way he had just forced me to look at his.

"What exactly were you expecting me to do when something like that happens?" I demanded, my voice sharp, slicing through the small space between us.

I squeezed my arms tighter against my ribs.

"I mean, think about it. If you walked into a private chamber and found me half-dressed, lounging around with another man... how exactly would you feel in that moment?"

The silence behind me grew incredibly heavy, thick with a sudden, dangerous heat.

Then, the quiet was broken by the slow, rhythmic scrape of his leather boots against the flagstones.

He was coming closer. He didn’t utter a single word of protest. He didn’t even call out to me, and he didn’t gently ask me to turn around and look at him.

He simply closed the distance between us in three long strides, his overwhelming shadow falling over my shoulders.

Before I could even gasp, his large, warm hands clamped firmly around my waist.

With a sudden, effortless burst of strength, he lifted my feet right off the ground and set me down onto the edge of the high wooden table.

My hands flew out to grip the polished wood for balance as he stepped right into my space.

He planted his palms flat on the table, one on either side of my thighs, completely caging me in.

His face was inches from mine, his pure white hair framing a countenance that had gone utterly dark.

His gray eyes weren’t glowing with their usual dragon gold, but they were terrifyingly intense, dangerous, and fixed entirely on my lips.

"If I see him anywhere close to you..." he hissed, his voice dropping into a low, vicious growl that vibrated straight through the wood beneath me, "...if I find him breathing the same air as you... I will skin him alive with my bare hands, princess."

My breath hitched, my heart hammering wildly against my ribs at the sheer, raw malice in his tone.

"I was just saying it as an example," I murmured, my voice turning quiet as I looked into his dark eyes. "I did not mean I would actually go out and do it."

He didn’t shift his weight back. He just stayed right there, his warm breath fanning across my cheeks, his scent of woodsmoke and ash filling my senses.

"But still..." I whispered, my voice dropping even lower, a hint of my lingering hurt bleeding through, "I am kind of shocked by your reaction. I am shocked that you wouldn’t even try to fight for me. That you would just give up and let me walk away."

The fierce growl died in his throat, his expression flattening into something calm and strangely weary.

"If I saw that there was even a single drop of a chance..." he stated, his voice flat and even, "...if I thought for a second that fighting for you could actually win your heart over... I would do it without hesitation."

He paused, his gray eyes searching my face, tracking the confusion clearing up in my eyes.

"But if I see that there is absolutely no chance for me," he added, his voice dropping into a quieter, honest register, "I am not going to waste my time or bother."

I furrowed my brows, a small frown marring my forehead as I stared at his sharp jaw.

"Why would you even say something like that to me? Why do you have to be so incredibly blunt about it?"

He let out a tiny, breathless huff, his broad shoulders shrugging in a small, casual motion.

"Because I am an old man, princess," he said, a faint trace of amusement touching his lips. "I do not play boy games."

I blinked, my mind stumbling over the words.

I looked him up and down, taking in the smooth, unblemished skin of his face, the sharp definition of his high cheekbones, and the vibrant life in his eyes.

"What on earth do you mean, you are an old man?" I asked, my voice laced with pure confusion. "You don’t look old at all. You look... normal."

A small, genuine smile broke across his face, a real one this time, soft and entirely free of the tension from earlier.

"I am over two hundred years old," he stated, keeping his gray eyes locked onto mine. "To be honest, I cannot even remember the exact number anymore. I remember the day I was born... but if I had to sit down and calculate every single winter... yes. It is well over two hundred years."

He looked away for a split second, his gaze drifting to the map on the table as if remembering a lifetime of wars.

When his eyes snapped back to mine, my mouth was hanging wide open, my lips parting in utter disbelief.

"Are you... Are you actually serious right now?" I stammered, my eyes wide as dinner plates as I stared at him.

He gave a slow, firm nod of his head.

"Yes. I am serious."

"You are truly that old?" I asked, my voice rising slightly as I continued to gawk at him.

"Did you not know?" he countered, his tone perfectly calm, his dark brows arching in mild surprise.

I shook my head slowly, my black hair brushing against my shoulders.

"Nobody told me you were that old," I whispered, the words barely slipping past my teeth.

I couldn’t stop my eyes from wandering over him now.

I looked at the flawless skin of his face, the massive breadth of his broad shoulders, and the hard, unyielding line of his strong jaw.

There wasn’t a single wrinkle on him, after all kthe passing of centuries.

"Oh my goodness," I breathed out, the realization hitting my chest like a wave of cold water. "I have an old man as a mate."

In an instant, he straightened up to his full, towering height.

The soft amusement vanished from his eyes, replaced by a sudden, sharp flash of irritation.

"Does this look old to you?" he demanded, his voice laced with offended pride.

He stepped back half a foot and stretched his long arms out wide to the sides, deliberately displaying the massive width of his shoulders, the hard planes of his bare chest peeking through his collar, and the thick, corded muscles of his forearms.

"Does any single part of this look like an old man to you, princess?" he pushed, stepping right back into my space, his abs practically brushing against my knees.

My gaze involuntarily tracked the movement of his arms, lingering on the way his black shirt stretched precariously tight across the thick muscles of his chest and abdomen.

A sudden, intense heat rushed up my neck, flooding my cheeks until my face grew incredibly warm.

I quickly snapped my head to the side, looking at the stone floorboards to hide the blush creeping over my skin.

"Well?" he pressed, his voice dropping into a low, demanding purr as he noticed the red tint on my cheeks. "I am waiting for an answer, my princess."

I kept my lips locked tightly together, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reply.

Seeing my silence, he reached out his large hand.

His long, tattooed fingers gently cupped the edge of my chin, his touch incredibly soft despite his size.

Slowly, unyieldingly, he turned my face back toward him, forcing my eyes to meet his gray ones once more.

"What is your name, Princess?" he asked softly, his thumb brushing a light circle against the skin of my jaw.

I flared my nostrils, a wave of annoyance masking the fluttering in my stomach.

"I told you to stop calling me that," I snapped, trying to pull my chin back, but his grip remained steady and warm.

He tilted his head slightly to the side, his white hair shifting over his shoulder as he watched the fire return to my eyes.

I crossed my arms tightly over my chest again, glaring at him.

"Or are you planning to change your mind and make one of your beautiful dragon ladies your queen instead?"

His dark brows drew together into a deep, heavy frown, his hand dropping from my chin as his expression turned completely firm.

"No," he stated, his voice ringing with absolute certainty. "Never. I would never do that to you. Why would a thought like that even cross your mind?"

He took one more step forward, his thighs pressing flush against the edge of the table, pinning me in place.

"You are my queen," he whispered, his voice quiet, heavy with a solemn promise. "There is no one else."

I looked up into his gray eyes, my heart skipping a beat at the intensity in his gaze.

"Then why do you keep calling me princess..." I asked, my voice softening as I challenged him, "...if I am truly meant to be your queen?"

The fierce, kingly mask crumbled in an instant.

He lifted a hand and scratched the very back of his neck, his eyes dropping to the table as a sheepish, embarrassed look flooded his sharp features.

"I am sorry," he muttered, his voice dropping into a low, rumbling murmur.

"My queen."

A long pause settled over the room, the tension changing from sharp anger into something thick, heavy, and quiet.

His hand dropped back to the table, his gray eyes softening completely as he looked up at me through his white bangs.

"What is your true name?" he asked softly, his voice pleading.

I couldn’t bear the intensity of his stare for another second.

I turned my eyes away from him, looking down at the dark grain of the wooden table, then toward the space by the door, doing everything in my power to avoid his gray gaze.

"Liona," I whispered, the name barely audible as it slipped past my lips.

"Liona," he repeated, his voice trailing over the syllables slowly, deliberately.

He said it like he was tasting a rare wine, rolling the sound around in his mouth as if he wanted to permanently memorize the exact shape of it on his tongue.

He leaned his weight forward, his gray eyes swimming with a strange, beautiful light.

"That is the most beautiful name I have ever heard in my entire life," he murmured.

I snapped my gaze back to him, my chest tightening as I tried to ignore the way my heart fluttered at his words.

"Stop it," I said, a small, frustrated breath escaping me. "You are just saying that to smooth things over."

He leaned even further forward, his massive chest hovering just inches from mine, his white hair brushing against my temple.

"I mean it from the very bottom of my soul," he whispered, his voice closing the distance between us.

He leaned closer still, his face sliding past mine until his lips were resting mere millimeters away from the sensitive skin of my ear.

The radiating heat of his body was completely wrapping around me, and his breath felt incredibly warm against my neck.

"It is the most beautiful name I have ever heard, Liona," he whispered, the rough rasp of his voice sending a sharp jolt of electricity straight down my spine.

My eyelids fluttered, and before I could even think to stop myself, my eyes closed shut.

I didn’t mean to give in. I didn’t mean to let him see the effect he had on me.

But my head tilted slightly to the opposite side on its own, my neck stretching out, exposing the pale skin of my throat to him in a silent, vulnerable surrender.

I was just waiting, my breath catching in my throat.

I felt the soft, dry skin of his lips gently brush against the back of my earlobe, a light, teasing pressure that made a violent shiver rip through my entire upper body.

"Stop that," I gasped out, the words coming out completely breathless, lacking any real force as my fingers gripped the edge of the table behind me.

"Do you truly want me to stop, my queen?" he whispered back, his lips trailing a slow, agonizing path down the side of my neck, his warm breath making my skin goosebump.

I couldn’t answer him.

The words were completely stuck in my throat.

My face felt burning hot, a heavy blush painting my cheeks, and my heart was pounding so violently against my ribs I was certain he could hear it in the quiet room.

"Since... since we have settled things," I stammered, desperately trying to clear my throat to find my normal voice, "I want to go back to my chamber now."

Shifting my weight, I brought my hands forward and pushed hard against his broad shoulders, trying to slide myself off the edge of the high wooden table to walk away from his suffocating warmth.

But he was entirely too fast.

Before my boots could even touch the stone floor, his hand shot out and clamped firmly around my wrist, pulling me back into his space with a sudden, unyielding tug.

The momentum spun me around, and my back slammed hard against the solid, muscular wall of his chest.

Before I could even draw breath to protest, his thick arms sneaked around my waist from behind, locking together over my stomach and wrapping around me in a tight, inescapable embrace.

He pulled my spine flush against his chest, trapping my body within his heat.

I felt his lips slide back into the hair at the nape of my neck, brushing against my ear once more as his white strands mingled with mine.

"I do not want you to go yet," he whispered, his voice dropping into a low, possessive murmur that vibrated directly against my shoulder blades.

His thick arms tightened their grip around my waist, lifting me just a fraction closer to him, sealing every single inch of space between us.

"What is the sudden rush?" he whispered, his breath hitting the sensitive skin behind my ear.

"Stay here with me."

A sudden, overwhelming wave of heat flushed through my entire system.

My skin felt burning hot, my veins filled with a thick, heavy warmth that made my limbs feel completely heavy and weak against his solid frame.

My breath came in short, ragged gasps as I remained trapped in the arms of the King, my body entirely on fire.