Yeara remained there. Something about those words told her that she might be getting more than a cookie. At the side was a plate filled with cookies of different flavours. For some reason, the urge to take one hit her — the way it looked, her stomach really wanted that.
"What is your motive, your majesty?" she spoke, her eyes searching his face to see what he was thinking, or rather have a little idea.
Her face looked skeptical, almost like she had a hard time trusting this man because she did, you would never just know his next move.
Zalthor chuckled, his head pressing back against the pillow as if enjoying this. That movement made some strands fall to his face, making him look more handsome in the most shocking and disbelieving way.
He refused to brush them away and just let them stay there while his dark eyes moved to her ever so slowly. Yeara's heart began to beat loudly; it was like he was about to eat her —that predatory gaze.
"Hmm, motive," Zalthor hummed, his eyes now scanning the cookies, no longer on her. He moved as he took a slow bite. The way his jaw moved so slowly as he ate it made Yeara's mouth water.
He was no longer looking at her; his eyes were just focused on the cookie as he ate it slowly, like nothing else mattered.
The curtains flew to the side softly as the fresh wind blew in. The only sound left was the soft click of the clock and the perfect crunch from Zalthor when he took a bite.
The silence continued. Yeara bit the inside of her cheek, her hands clutching her gown. Her eyes flickered to the cookies. It had been long since she ate one, and now the urge to take one was really hitting her.
Her brows pulled together.
'Why does this man have to be like this? Is he purposely doing this to get back at me?' she wondered as she bit her lips hard, glaring harder at him.
But right now she felt like a ghost — he had not spared one glance at her ever since, and he had just been eating the cookies like no one else was in the room.
A sharp breath left Yeara's lips as she walked, almost like a stomp, towards the other side of the bed where Zalthor lay.
The cookie plate was just atop the bedside tablet to him. She finally reached it, and yet he did not spare her a glance. She was slightly glad, as she could not imagine the embarrassment she would feel if he did.
She was the same person who had not wanted to take it, and now here she was. She quickly moved to grab the chocolate cookie, but just as her hands brushed the top—
He caught her wrist.
Yeara's heart skipped as her head snapped towards him in disbelief.
"No cookies for you, Koala." His deep voice wrapped around the room as he spoke. Yeara's eyes widened.
'Koala.' The fact that this man was also insulting her made her blood boil.
"I want some biscuit. Why deprive me of my need?" she spoke, her gaze deepening on his upsettingly, like an angry kitten whose milk was taken away from its reach.
Zalthor's laughter broke through the room, his legs crossed on the bed haughtily, eyes dancing with dark motive as he looked at her expression, which seemed rather cute than angry.
"Tell me, what is a need and a want?" he asked. One hand still holding her wrist, he moved his other hand, now bringing her other hand to where he held her wrist before locking them together with his hand.
A strange warmth spread through her.
His eyes remained on hers. He was enjoying this far too much. He leaned in on the bed where he sat, his other hand behind his head.
Yeara stomach flipped. She could not believe this man. Why was he acting like this for a simple cookie?
She could not even blame him now but herself. She had been the one who hesitated when he invited her to get one—but you could not blame her; nobody knew this man's next move.
"I apologise for my earlier hesitation, but Your Majesty must realise that there is what is called a change of mind," she spoke, her voice tight.
Her eyes flickered to both her hands, which were held in place by his where she stood. She looked like a prisoner being handcuffed. She tried to wriggle, but his grip was far too strong, and the ease with which he held her marveled her.
"Your majesty, let me go," she spoke as she tried to free herself. What was even wrong with this man?
Zalthor nodded.
"As you wish."
Before she knew it, he pulled her to him, and then he let her go. Yeara's eyes flew wide in pure shock as she fell atop him. Her hands moved for support, but she immediately regretted that as her hands fell on top of his chest — one inside his unbuttoned shirt and one atop his shirt.
Her face burned as she quickly pushed herself up to the bed. She was now sitting beside him as his gaze drifted to his crotch area, her hands tightening into fists as she processed a punch..maybe a little blow…
"What are you waiting for…" Zalthor drawled.
"Punch it."
Yeara's eyes snapped to his in disbelief. The convincing coldness surprised her. Her mouth opened and closed; she could not believe this man. In fact, his face held a calm urge, as if giving her the go-ahead.
Yeara's lips closed as she bit them hard. She did not even understand this man.
Zalthor's hands moved as he brushed his hair backwards, his sharp lazy eyes staring at her, noticing her cheeks getting hotter.
Yeara finally realized that even though she had been planning to hurt him, the fact that she had looked there was even worse. Oh lord… she had forgotten how perverted it was.
"Were you not planning to kill our generations?" he asked as he began to slowly button his shirt, his eyes locked on her.
"What?" Yeara asked in disbelief, as she did not expect that at all. It was then it hit her like a slap — what he meant. Her eyes stared at him as she pressed her lips together.
"You…" she pointed at him, almost accusingly.
Zalthor's lips curled to the side into a sinful smirk at her heated face. He watched the way her eyes darted around the room as if she was now avoiding his gaze. Her hands, which had pointed at him, just fell to her side as if at a loss for words.
Her other hand, which had tightened against the bedsheet, loosened slightly, her features looking even more breathtaking to him.
As if she had finally thought of a comeback, she then spoke.
"How can his majesty… ahmmm—"
Yeara's words died down as the cookie was now in her mouth. Her eyes moved to him as he nodded. She frowned, her eyes moving down as if she would be able to stare at the cookie now hanging in her mouth.
She moved her hand to hold it as she took a bite. She began to eat as the flavour made her forget what she had been planning to say in the first place.
Her eyes examined the cookie — it was the exact one she wanted to take. She closed her eyes slowly, savouring the taste like it was the best thing in the world, unknown to her the eyes that now stared at her.
Just as she gulped, her eyes flew open as she felt a hot wetness to the side of her cheeks.
Zalthor's tongue rolled, licking her cheeks, taking in the crumble that had messed there. Chills shot up Yeara's spine as she remembered that she had been a messy eater. Her words died in her throat; her body just remained frozen. But he did not pull away — his hand moved to her neck, tilting it upwards, his voice deep yet inviting.
"Take another bite."