Chapter CXLVII: Jealousy
Isabella entered her chambers after dinner to find Alaric already there, his muscular frame illuminated by the flickering candlelight. He was shirtless, washing his face in a porcelain basin, the dragons inked on his chest and shoulders gleaming as his skin caught the light. She paused, admiring him, before stepping closer to lay her hand gently on his back, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her touch. But he remained stoic, barely acknowledging her.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, searching his face in the mirror.
Alaric’s jaw tightened. “Are you done wandering the palace, gossiping with your beloved stepdaughter?” His words were laced with bitterness.
Isabella rolled her eyes, her voice growing tense. “Seriously, Alaric? Clara is my friend, my supporter. I thought you would understand that.”
“She’s also Pallor’s daughter,” he replied curtly, his gaze hard. “If I could bring that man back to life just to kill him again, I would.”
Her face softened into a weary expression. “Alaric, I don’t like it when you talk like this,” she said quietly. “I never married Pallor because I loved him. I married him because I had to make that choice.”
His eyes met hers in the mirror, a coldness in his voice. “You said yourself you came to love him, eventually.”
“Yes,” she replied, struggling to stay calm. “Like a friend, a mentor… Even like a father.”
Alaric’s expression turned dark, his words barely a murmur. “You wouldn’t fuck your father.”
A flash of anger crossed her face as she met his gaze. “I was a seventeen year old girl when I was forced into your harem,” she retorted sharply, “where you kept a dozen women, all there to please you… And even your guests. I watched you fuck them, day in and day out, in that bathing house, and those images still linger in my head.” Her tone wavered but didn’t falter. “But you would say that was different, though, wouldn’t you?”
Alaric straightened, looking into her eyes, a challenge reflected in his. “Yes, it was different, Isabella.”
“Was it?” she asked bitterly. “I left, Alaric. I wasn’t planning to come back. My only thought was to survive and to win the fucking war I’d waged against you.”
He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he searched her face. “Tell me, Isabella,” he said slowly, his voice a low rumble. “If that ‘beloved’ husband of yours were still alive… Would you still come back to me?”
She drew herself up, her face defiant. “If he wasn’t dead, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. How could I come to you if I was married to another man? Would you make me your concubine again?”
Alaric’s voice hardened. “If he weren’t dead, I would have challenged him for your hand. And I don’t care how skilled he was, I would win and you know it.” He held her gaze with a fierce intensity. “Would you have still married me then, Isabella? Would you have accepted me if it was my sword that took his life?”
Isabella’s expression turned cold, her voice low but unwavering. “I don’t have to think about that because it never happened,” she replied icily. “So we’ll never know.”
Alaric rolled his eyes. Isabella’s voice was sharp as she sneered, “You’re acting like a fool, Alaric, wasting time being jealous of a dead man.”
Alaric’s eyes narrowed, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. “That dead man laid his hands on you when he was alive!”
Her eyes flashed with anger as she countered, “Really? But I thought you liked to share, my king… Just like you did when you shared me with your brother!”
The air grew heavy as Alaric’s fury flared. “Yes, I shared you with him! And you know what? For a split second, his death felt good in my hands because I was killing the only man who ever touched you besides me! And your dear husband was a coward and died before I could do the same!”
She smirked defiantly. “If I hunted down every bitch you ever fucked, I’d spill enough blood to turn the ocean red. And I bet you’re proud of it.”
He shot back, his tone dark, “Are you comparing yourself to me?” He asked, towering her, as if to intimidate her.
She stepped closer, her voice low and taunting. “The difference between me and your little whores is that I stopped being afraid of your rage a long time ago… Because it started to turn me on.”
In a swift movement, Alaric closed the space between them, capturing her in a fierce, almost brutal kiss, channeling all the anger, frustration, and undeniable attraction into it. It was raw, furious, and passionate… A match to the rage inside them.
Isabella's fingers tightened around his neck as she pulled him closer, matching his fervor, refusing to yield. Their breaths mingled, hot and rapid, as the intensity of the kiss grew, each trying to overpower the other. Alaric’s hands roamed down her back, pressing her against him, their bodies melting together, every touch igniting sparks that fueled their hunger.
With a growl, he lifted her onto the table behind her, scattering papers and anything else in the way, his gaze dark and unwavering as he held her there. She smirked, a wicked glint in her eyes as she leaned back, taunting him without a word, daring him to lose control.
“Careful, Isabella,” he warned, his voice a low rumble.
“Or what?” she whispered, her voice daring and breathless. She threaded her fingers into his hair, pulling him down to her. He captured her lips once more, his touch rough yet intoxicating as he kissed her deeper.
Isabella’s fingers fumbled, desperate to unfasten his belt as Alaric’s hands slid beneath her skirt, his touch hot against her bare thighs, sending a shiver through her body. He gripped her hips, pulling her closer, his body pressing against hers, igniting her senses. His cock was fully hard and he entered her roughly, filling her completely.
As he began to thrust himself into her, she let out a low, throaty moan, her head falling back, eyes rolling as she whispered breathlessly, “Harder.”
A dark glint flickered in his gaze as he met her plea, pulling her hair down and steading her body by her hip so he could thrust harder. He leaned in, capturing her lips once more in a consuming kiss. With a firm tug, he eased the sleeves of her dress down, baring her breasts as he kissed his way along her skin until her nipples, his touch igniting every nerve in her body.
Their movements grew even more intense as they drove each other higher. Isabella’s breath hitched, her body tensing as she reached the peak first, her head falling back as a soft moan escaped her lips, lost in the waves of that sensation. Alaric held her close, overwhelming her with even more intense thrusts, his gaze fixed on her, her pleasure only fueling his own need. Moments later, he followed, his grip tightening as he let go and spilled him inside of her, their breaths mingling as they recovered from that release.
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