Althea
My gaze dropped to the ground in record time. Not even for two seconds did I hold that lethal gaze.
What the hell happened to my lungs?! They were becoming too small for normal breathing.
Dear heart had gone on a roll after a long time. The way it was chattering away terrified me.
Heart - Imma gonna pump all the blood down your throat my lungloves!
Cause Coretta saw something in her turned off world that has got me so hot and bothered! Oh la la...!
Whenever my heart begins to speak like this...
Oh shit, trouble.
In the one second stare, I could only make out that there was one real hairdresser out there who had shaped his hair in an unnaturally wavy manner. And the body down there,
A hot disaster.
Straining my eyes to not go anywhere above, I noticed the grip of his rugged hand tighten on the sword ever so slightly.
Rugged hands...
Wish I could bang my head somewhere for getting turned on by his hands.
Damn, they were just hands for God's sake!
"Princess Rolana?" he asked in deep accented Macedonian, and I couldn't ignore the sudden rush of excitement emanating from his voice.
The voice, that would be the end of me if I didn't take the gravity of the situation.
On cue, I raised my head slowly to look around. I still didn't have the courage to look anywhere near his face.
Poor heart may as well die in the process of becoming a marathon runner at its job.
I looked around to find no princess, only the leech whose grin was growing larger than before. Then it clicked into me.
"I beg for pardon. I'm not the princess, but a mere writer. She has succumbed to self-virtuousness, along with the other ladies." Seeing the opportunity, I hurried on.
"I request your magnificence to show pity on my poor self from him," I tried to say as softly as possible and turned around to point to the hobo who still had his eyes locked on me.
"Ha! What do you think, woman, that he would listen to whatever pathetic excuse you want to give?" the leech sneered but silenced instantly when master invader pointed the sword towards him.
"Axios enough. You don't talk in this manner to a princess-"
That voice. Oh, that voice.
"I'm no princess..." I interrupted their conversation, only realising it to be an ancient womanly crime.
Wrong move.
Master invader's sword landed on my neck, making me scream out at the dark blood already splattered on it. He pushed the sword further, causing my back to collide with his front.
I took in a sharp breath as his other arm came to wrap around my front, holding me firmly by the arm.
Glancing down, my eyes popped out at the ridiculously muscled arm.
Hold yourself together Althea, one twist of that arm around your body and you're dead!
"Collect the whereabouts of other women," he ordered Axios, who left after a quick bow.
The grip of his arms tightened around me, but I didn't dare make a sound. One little movement and the sword's extreme edge would slice my neck.
"Rolana dear, don't you think you've gone too far with your acting skills? You think I'll forget that face in a couple years hm?"
His breathy voice trickled in my ears and into my senses, making me completely helpless against my raging inner voice.
How could I explain to him that Pharaoh Aaheru's daughter, princess Rolana, was already dead with her mother?
"I- I am not Rolana," I breathed out shakily, trying not to gulp down my throat. That would undoubtedly land a gorging cut on my neck.
There wasn't a choice. I had to act a meek, docile woman.
Without another word, he slammed me to the nearest wall so hard, the impact of the uneven surface razed my back that was only covered in thin linen.
My eyes burned with tears, not only with injury, but with his blunt harshness.
His eyes searched every inch of my face, searching and searching, until he was lost. But I wasn't. I was awake like I'd never been before.
Every inch of his stone carved face screamed barbarian. The rough jawline and hard set cheekbones did nothing to mesmerise me like it did a moment ago. His bizarre light brown eyes stood out the most because he had kohl all over them.
You know the kind of face makeup done by those WWE hunks who are beating the shit out of each other.
But his was nothing funny. The kohl wasn't used as an eyeliner but was smudged around his eyes, giving him a gothic look.
"And why didn't you succumb to self-virtuousness? Don't want to remain pure?" His voice lowered into a heavy whisper. I gulped, trying not to shake.
It frightened me with my life that he didn't look playful because only raw want danced in his eyes.
Sexy barbarian yesss! I remembered Cheryl's crazy words, but couldn't relate. This type of barbarian should've graced his presence to her, not me.
He raised his head from my level and looked down at my barely there frame, giving me space to breathe at last.
"I am a writer," I choked out.
Through the grace of God, he tucked his sword back in the sheath, but continued to look down with furrowed brows.
"Writer?" he snorted. "Woman a writer? Don't you have kids to look after?" he asked, eying me up and down.
I chose to ignore his last question. "I write in the praise of Her Majesty. She was generous enough to allow me to do so. Don't you see it's a kingdom ruled by a female pharaoh?"
"Watch your mouth, woman," he gritted out. His hand went to rest on the hilt of his dagger again.
"Proof," he demanded, looking straight into my eyes. Whenever I tried to hold his gaze, his deadly gaze would begin to slither everywhere except my face, making me shrivel.
"I have a manuscript," I gulped. A relaxed expression settled on his face.
"Lead the way," he ordered.
He pointed the sword at my back as he walked close behind. In the distance, I could hear crying female voices. They had captured the rest of them sadly.
Wincing at the ache in my back, I entered the room. I remembered not reading the complete message because the blaring horn had distracted me.
When I made sure his eyes were on me and not on the book, I gripped it in my hands.
It was showing an unread message from the department. Flipping to the last page, I decrypted the message.
Whenever you are closest to death, then only electric compulsion would start in order to deport you back to the-
He snatched the book out of my hands.
"Guards! Take her hostage!"