All the Queen's Angels

Ch. 30: Anything But This 🥀

Evangeline's POV:

"You won't be allowed to leave the Master Chamber until you've done the deed," the woman explains calmly. As if describing the weather.

"Oh Gods—are you going to watch us?!," I blurt incredulously. I turn to Malcolm for backup but he's retreated mentally from the situation.

"No, of course not," she replies with no further explanation. My helplessness sparks fury in my chest. I'm about to pull her hair out when Malcolm interrupts.

"I refuse to partake in such outdated and primal behavior," he growls at her. The woman turns on him and hisses in return.

"Either you fuck or you get fucked over, My Lord."

As if on cue, five maids suddenly usher me into my room and begin stripping me. I hardly have time to protest before I'm tugged into a sheer white nightdress that leaves barely anything to the imagination. Malcolm's shouts of protest continue in the hall. And then they breeze out as quickly as they came, locking the door behind them.

Oh Hell. This is really happening.

I cautiously enter the Master Chamber, the room between mine and Malcolm's. The entire place has been cleaned and reupholstered. Luxurious silk sheets and curtains now cover the massive four poster bed. Candles burn in the chandeliers, filling the room with a soft lavender haze. A massive fireplace, large enough to stand in, fills the wall opposite the bed. One corner hosts a fully-stocked bar.

A door slams nearby, causing the chandeliers to shiver slightly. And then a deep silence fills the chamber. There's no sign of life from the hall or Malcolm's room. I sit on the pillows before the fireplace, grateful for the warmth.

Nothing about this situation is ideal. But, realistically, nothing in my entire life has ever been "ideal". Everything sucks all the time. But I suppose it could be worse. I close my eyes.

Much worse.
...

I'm awoken by the clink of glass against wood. My eyes flutter open to find Malcolm leaning against the bar, a bottle of liquor in hand.

I sit up and rub my eyes, utterly disoriented.

"It's not that I don't wanna fuck you," Malcolm says in a low voice.

I am awake now.

He starts to look at me but then changes his mind and just stares into the bottle, brows furrowed in concentration. "But I know you don't want it."

I sigh and walk over to the bar. "You underestimate my vengefulness. I'd absolutely sleep with you to take back Gardenia, Malcolm."

He shakes his head and takes a swig of the bottle, wincing at the bitterness. "I'm the sovereign of this land, and you are my wife. They can't lock us in a room against our will forever. I'll figure something else out." He grabs another bottle and unscrews it with his teeth.

"It's fine, Malcolm," I insist. The sooner we do this, the sooner it will be over.

"No, it's not fine, Evangeline," he growls, bringing the bottle to his lips. "You don't want this."

Something snaps in me, and I snatch the bottle from him and take a long drink of the whiskey. As Malcolm grabs the bottle from my hand, I pull him towards me, grabbing his jaw and pressing my lips to his.

The bottle falls from his hand, and he grips my neck to pull me closer. I deepen the kiss, scorching our tongues as we swallow the bitter liquor. We press closer together as the whiskey runs out until there's nothing left between us except our heated breathing. And now he's gripping my dress as he licks the trickle of whiskey down my chin. As he brushes his thumb across my lips, Malcolm suddenly pauses and pulls away slightly. His amber eyes are wild, glittering with a single question.

"Keep going," I murmur. Malcolm doesn't hesitate before hoisting me into his arms and carrying me to the bed. His lips devour mine as we stumble onto the bed and he kneels over me. He suddenly breaks away to pull off his shirt. Even in the low candlelight, where Malcolm has become more silhouette and shadow than man, it's clear that he's built like a warrior.

I watch his chest rise and fall, waiting for him to continue...though I'm not sure what. I just know he knows more about this than me.

"Touch me," he says, his voice huskier than usual. My eyes widen. He moves fast. "Fuck—not like that. I mean just put your hands on me. Get used to me."

Oh. That I can do. I sit up and brush his hair out of his face before resting my palm on his cheek. Although he proposed the idea, he remains tense against my touch. I trace a path from his jaw to his neck and collarbone, causing him to shiver slightly. Restless, he places my other hand on his chest where his heart thunders beneath my palm.

I run my hands across the muscular planes of his chest, his shoulders, his arms. Malcolm is still as a statue beneath my roaming fingertips as I marvel at his strength. Gathering my courage, I find his hand and press his palm to my cheek. He slowly traces my jaw before tugging loose the strings to my gown. As the fabric slips down to my waist, I'm hit by a wave of self-consciousness and unthinkingly lean into his body to hide myself from full view.

My face is flushed from the liquor and embarrassment. Instead of being exposed to his sight, we're now literally chest to chest, skin to skin. Brilliant. Now we're standing at the edge of a cliff into unknown territory.

But it's time to jump now.

When I press my lips to his neck, a flame seems to ignite within him. He pulls me into his lap and grips my hips as my hands travel down his torso to settle on his belt. His lips find mine again as I unbuckle his pants. Malcolm bites down on my bottom lip as the buckle falls away with a metallic clink. Now we're both unshackled.

Tonight, we'll burn.

...
A/N: thank you for your patience! remember y'all: consent is sexy 😩🙏
If you liked this chapter you're gonna love the next one even more so stay tuned 🤭