Alpha King's Mate

51. Heir (Part I)

The next morning, our enemies were determined.

My face was hot and sweat droplets formed on my forehead. He desperately knocked on the door and I let out a deep breath.

"Olivia," he asked, his voice strained. "Are you okay?"

I opened my mouth to respond but instead of words, last nights dinner came flooding up. I kept my hair in a tight fist behind my head as I vomited, and used my other hand to keep myself propped up on the toilet. The acid burned my throat causing me to cough desperately.

Immediately the door swung open. "Jesus."

I spit and flushed the toilet before leaning back into my calves. The marble floor cooled my sweating, aching skin. "I'm fine."

"You're obviously not fine." He stated and grabbed my hand.

I looked up at his gorgeous face and felt weak. Perhaps it was the illness coursing through me, but his beauty certainly assisted. His eyes were colored dark with concern and a frown replaced the smile I loved so much. I frowned too. He outstretched a hand toward me but I smacked it away.

"Don't touch my face, I'm gross and sweaty," I groaned.

He chuckled and outstretched his hand again. "I love your gross and sweaty face."

I said nothing; his words caught me off guard. I just watched him and allowed my face to relax as he pressed the back of his palm to my forehead.

"Well you're only kind of warm, so I don't know what that means."

I knew he loved me before, but somehow all of the things I knew before were invalidated in the after. He had sworn and apologized and pleaded and professed love, but something was different as he looked at me.

He slowly got to his feet, "I'll call Angela."

I quickly snapped back to the situation. "No, I just have a bug or something. My immune system isn't as strong as yours, it takes a lot less to make me sick. The way you treat it is with sleep and water."

He nodded and held his hands out toward me. I hugged and took them, allowing him to drag me to my feet. He kept one of my hands in his and put the other on the top of my back. He massaged it, easing a knot I didn't know I had.

I was escorted back to the bed and like a child, was propped up on a pillow and covered with a wool blanket.

"You don't-

"Yes, I do," he insisted simply as he brushed my hair back.

I sighed. "Can we talk?"

He hummed. "About?"

"Why did you sleep with Caroline?"

I hadn't realized the question was on my mind, not until it slipped right off of my tongue. As I spoke the words I instantly felt even more washed out with regret. Doubling down was my only option. "I'm sorry I shouldn't have-"

"No," he sighed with a frown. "No, you have every right to ask questions."

My heart sunk as anxiety rushed over me. A part of me wished he loved her. Another part of me despised that thought. He continued.

"When I was young, I only knew this palace. I knew my family and the servants, and my tutors, and the people who came to visit for my parents' parties. When I was six, I met Caroline."

Her name on his lips felt unfair, but I did my best to ignore it. I focused on the rest of his words, although they were not much better. I trusted them, at the very least, because of just how much I detested them.