Taken

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Chapter Forty One.

Clarice Mont

She was fuming.

Yet, even through her rage her despair was evident.

Her wolf ached more than ever to mark its mate - yet, her mate would not allow her.

She ached to be near him and she did not know what to do.

She wanted answers, to everything, but she was not getting any. From anyone.

She stomped into the dining room with absolutely no care in the world.

She had changed into a thick sweater dress that she paired with black boots that reached her knees - she had wanted to look more presentable.

That and something pushed her to want to flaunt herself to the King more - she wanted him to see what he was missing.

And it was odd. She was suddenly so odd and she did not understand why.

“Hello Claire, I was just about to come to your room to escort you here.” Rettacus stated once his face appeared before hers, she inhaled deeply before shrugging.

“I am okay to walk to the dining room myself now.” She told him abruptly before walking past him and finding the table.

She did not mean to be rude, but she was mad. She felt belittled and ashamed. And goddess was she enraged.

The other men were already seated and were glaring at her intensely - Avon’s glare was hitting her hardest and it made her raise her chin before curling her lip up.

Something inside of her felt like it was stirring and it made her nearly clench her stomach.

She looked at the men that were seated, then at her chair before she watched Rettacus appear by her side and pull the chair out for her.

“You can sit.” He told her politely, she narrowed her eyes before shaking her head - Rettacus furrowed his brows in confusion.

In a swift second she had done the unspeakable.

She walked towards the head of the table, pulled out the Kings chair and plopped down on it gracefully before placing her elbow on the table and her chin in her palm.

She sent the men a mischievous smile, yet they all only glared at her in bewilderment.

“Clarice, I understand you might be changing but you should not do that. I can tell that you are mad over something, but I recommend you sit here.” Rettacus motioned to her original seat and she chuckled dryly.

“Sit down Rettacus. I have sat where I want to, and nobody will sway me.” She told him, her voice strong and calm, it was as if she had not just stolen the Kings rightful spot.

Rettacus cleared his throat, “alright, I am just looking out for you. You can not just sit on the Kings rightful seat.”

Clarice smiled at him, she knew he was just worried and that he was expressing his concerns politely, but she could not and will not be swayed.

She was adamant on sitting in his place and seeing his reaction.

“I am his mate. Am I not?” Clarice asked, yet it came out more as a statement.

Marcello nearly spat out the drink he was sipping on before coughing back a laugh.

Aurelio and Avon looked at each before Avon let out a dry chuckle that caught Clarices attention.

“Anything you wish to say?” Clarice asked Avon who was already sending lasers into her eyes with his own.

“The King is not your mate. At least, not until proven otherwise.” He told her, he sounded so sure of himself that it made Clarices chest rumble.

She nodded her head while pursing her lips before grabbing onto the neckline of her dress and pulling it down - showcasing her collarbone.

The mark that was given to her had freshly healed and now sat perfectly in place.

It looked like a regular bite mark but much more prominent. The punctures were also a lot wider and bigger than usual due to the fact that she had been bitten by the King himself.

“I believe that this proves otherwise.” She stated lowly, while glaring intensely at Avon from under his eyes.

She was gripping her neckline with so much strength that her fingers were beginning to pale.

She hated having to prove that she was his mate over and over again.

If only he had allowed her to mark him as well, she would no longer have this problem. Ever.

Avon chuckled grimly - trying to cover up the fact that was utterly speechless but it was obvious.

Even though he had seen the mark already, seeing her show it off so powerfully made him nearly want to bow his head to her.

The aura that danced around her was dark and powerful, as if it was infused from the Kings, and that was odd.

Before anyone could say anything else, the Kings loud footsteps echoed in their ears and the men all turned their attention expectingly to where he was walking in.

They were all eager to see the Kings reaction, except Rettacus - he sat in his seat nervously with his brows furrowed and his sad gaze on Clarice; he hated that she was willingly putting herself in harms way.

Clarice was looking forwards, not once turning her head to respectfully bow her head to the King like the rest of the men had.

“We tried to stop her.” Marcello stated after clearing his throat - Clarice raised her brow and held back a smirk.

Once his scent had invaded her nostrils, this thing inside of her felt like it was trying to break free and she could not hold it back.

Even now, as she felt his gaze burn holes into the side of her face.

She could even see as Avon started smirking arrogantly at her - his eyes twinkled with evil, and she knew he expected the worst, no, he wanted to see the worst.

“Move.” His voice was like velvet and she welcomed the sound in her ears yet she blocked out the power his words held and the way he had ordered her to get out of his seat.

She did not.

She remained seated while gazing forwards before turning her head to look at Rettacus who was gazing back at her with his familiar warmth and worry.

She smiled at him, “please pass me some bread. We shall start dining now.”

The tension in the room grew after that and the men nearly felt their jaws fall to the floor.

Clarice licked her lips, they burned to twitch upwards into a smirk - her sudden change made her glow and she looked as powerful as she felt.

Her anger made her petty and she would continue this game until he sat her down and finally spoke to her, because she has had enough.

Enough of it all.

She turned her head to look at him whilst Rettacus placed some bread on her plate and began to spoon some food for her.

She curled her lip, “feel free to take a seat. We do not mind.”

The King clenched his hands that were dangling by his sides - the veins on his arms began to protrude and looked about ready to pop against his tan skin.

His eyes were set in a wide glare - he was shocked.

He was utterly feeling disrespected and shocked at her behavior.

He hated this. He hated her. How could she do this, in front of all of them?

He curled his own lip up before raising his chin, “you are playing a very dangerous game little one.”

She smiled at him wickedly, “you started this ‘game’ now I am ending it.”

And with that she pushed the end of her fork into a potato and placed it into her mouth.

She chewed it all while glaring at the King - feeling as if they were the only two in the room - before she swallowed the food down.

She turned to the men, “you may all begin.”

And they did.

None of them knew how or why they did, but they did.

Her words felt powerful, even though they were such simple words. They had not even been an order.

Yet they all found themselves spooning some food for their own plates and digging in whilst the King glared at them all.

Clarice turned her head to look at him and narrowed her eyes at him before he watched as they glowed.

She knew this was not her.

And he knew that if he did not do something soon, she would become exactly like him.

And Goddess would that be bad.

Clarice let out a little chuckle before licking her lips and whispering, “checkmate.”

The words were barely audible but he had heard them.

He heard her so well, and her words would have been enough to make him crumble in defeat but his interior was strong - his beast would not allow him to.

At least, not yet.


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