Chapter 24: Chapter 24: Chris and the king (2)
For a heartbeat Dax didn’t move. The violet in his eyes softened just enough to make Christopher’s stomach twist, an understanding hidden under the sharpness.
"You’ve been paying attention," Dax murmured, almost amused, though the steel in his voice made it clear it wasn’t a compliment thrown lightly. "Smart."
Christopher’s shoulders eased a fraction, but the air between them still pulsed like a live wire.
"Smart enough," he muttered, "to know men like you don’t ask questions unless you already know the answers."
That earned him the faintest tilt of Dax’s head and the barest curve of his mouth.
"Careful," Dax said softly. "You almost sound like you’re accusing me of something."
Christopher let out a short breath of a laugh. Before he could stop himself, the sarcasm slipped out, sharp as a blade.
"Oh, forgive me, Your Majesty. Next time I’ll clap and thank you for dragging me into your car instead of having your guards bag my head and throw me in the trunk."
The second the words left his mouth, he froze.
Shit. Shit, why did I...? His pulse spiked, mouth dry. He dropped his gaze, trying not to wince; not only was he exhausted from all of the work, and his heels hurt, but he was also taunting a king.
’Brilliant, Chris. Taunt a king. Maybe he’ll toss you out right here.’ He paused his thoughts, realising that the previous thought wasn’t all that bad. ’I hope so, honestly.’
But Dax didn’t bristle. He didn’t snap. He didn’t even frown.
Instead, a low, rich laugh rolled out of him, slow and delighted, the kind that made Christopher’s chest tighten.
Dax leaned back against the leather seat, the overhead light catching the pale sweep of his hair, shoulder-length, white-gold strands tucked behind one ear, loose where the wind from the half-open window had ruffled it. His violet eyes gleamed in the shifting streetlights, sharp as cut glass and just as unreadable.
"There it is," he murmured, voice warm with satisfaction. "The teeth. I was starting to think you’d chew your tongue off before letting them show."
Christopher stared at him, barely breathing, still tense from the words he’d let slip. His heart pounded too loud in his ears. The sarcasm had come out on reflex, like a punch thrown before you knew you were in a fight, and now he couldn’t take it back.
He shifted in the seat, jacket brushing the cool leather. His short dark hair was damp at the nape from heat and nerves. He kept it cropped out of habit, easier to hide, easier to forget. His black eyes were sharp now, but there was a tremble under the surface he hated himself for.
’Why did I say that? Why am I still here?’
Dax looked like a man settling into a game he’d been waiting to play.
"This is better," Dax said, almost to himself. "Let me make something clear."
He shifted forward, his long frame closing the space between them without ever needing to touch. Up close, Dax looked far too composed for someone so casually dangerous.
"You can accept what this is," he said, voice smooth, each syllable deliberate. "Me. Us. The fact that you’re already in the room, and the lock’s on the inside."
Christopher’s breath hitched. ’Us?’ The word hit harder than it should have. He didn’t know what it meant, but something in his chest went tight with the weight of it.
"Or," Dax continued, voice lowering, "you can fight it. Claw, bite, and run if it makes you feel like you still have a say in how this ends. I’ll even let you. Once."
A pause. The air shifted heavier.
"But if you keep pushing," Dax murmured, his tone suddenly devoid of warmth, "you’ll see something you won’t forget."
His purple gaze locked with Christopher’s. There was no threat in his voice, only certainty.
"I don’t use violence lightly. But I don’t flinch from it either."
The words hung between them like smoke.
"Does that mean you want me as your... concubine?" Christopher asked, his voice low, flat, too calm for the way his pulse slammed behind his ribs. "Or just a temporary partner until you have your heir?" Bitterness shaped each word, but there was something colder underneath. Resignation. A question he already knew how most men would answer.
His gaze didn’t waver, not even when the car slowed outside the estate gates. But the knot deep in his stomach stayed tight, like it had been waiting for this moment to coil back into him.
"Go on, Your Majesty," he added. "Tell me what part I’m supposed to play in this game."
For a heartbeat the car was silent but for the muted engine. Then Dax laughed.
It wasn’t bright or amused. It was dark, low, and rich, curling through the confined space like smoke, making Christopher’s skin prickle. Dax turned his head fully now, and the grin he gave was nothing short of predatory.
"Concubine?" Dax echoed, tasting the word. "Temporary partner?" His laugh rumbled again, shoulders shaking once as though the very thought amused him to his core. Then his voice dropped, silk over steel.
"No, Malek. I don’t share what’s mine. From the moment I saw you, you became entirely mine. And you’ll stay that way."
Christopher’s chest tightened, breath catching, but before he could speak, Dax leaned forward slightly, the light catching in those violet eyes like fire caught in a gemstone.
"You won’t be tucked away as a concubine," Dax murmured, his tone dark. "You won’t be temporary. You’re going to stand beside me." A pause, a smile that was all teeth. "You’re going to be my queen."
The words hit like a blow and a brand all at once. For a moment Christopher couldn’t even process them. His jaw worked soundlessly, heart hammering so hard it was a wonder he could still sit still.
’Queen? Gods, he’s insane. And I’m...’
He shut his eyes briefly, dragging in a slow breath, trying to ground himself against the world spinning far too quickly. He could feel Dax’s gaze on him, heavy and satisfied, as though he’d just claimed something he’d been hunting for years.
When he opened his eyes again, Dax was still smiling, that dark satisfaction radiating off him like heat.
Christopher muttered under his breath, not even sure if he meant to be heard, "I’m so fucked..."
Dax’s grin deepened. "Yes," he said softly, almost fondly. "Yes, you are."