He leaned in close, the scent of parchment and the faint metallic tang of his blood filling her senses. The sheer proximity made her dizzy; his presence was overwhelming. She stumbled back another step, hitting the edge of a heavy writing desk with a dull thump. Her gaze, despite the tension, was drawn to the dried, dark stain on his hand where the glass had shattered.
"What happened?" she asked, the question escaping her lips before she could stop it, a flicker of genuine concern cutting through her fear.
Christopher ignored the question entirely, as he always did. He caged her against the desk, his hands coming down on either side of her, palms flat on the wood. His voice was low and dangerous, a predator's purr.
"I don't care what you do with your idle time," he began, his blue eyes intense and suffocating. "Whether you are so idle as to start seeking out company. But you are not allowed to do anything without my permission."
"Permission?" She scoffed, the sound sharp with disbelief and sudden anger. "The last time I checked, I didn't need your permission to do anything, especially if it involves getting myself a consort. I am the Queen, not your vassal."
She couldn't believe this man's arrogance.
Christopher's gaze intensified, a heavy weight that seemed to press the air from her lungs. He leaned closer still, his face only inches from hers, the promise in his next words a chilling vow. "You'll learn to obey me one way or the other."
Jackline took steps away from him, needing space, needing air. She was trembling and was trying with every fiber of her being to hide it from him. She hugged herself, trying to regain her composure.
"I don't understand what your problem is," she managed, clearing her throat to steady her voice. "Earlier you made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me, and now you're here in my chamber just because I had consorts over." She couldn't help but roll her eyes at the sheer melodrama of it all. "Are you perhaps jealous, my King? That the first experience your wife will have will be from other people, and not her husband?"
She knew the dynamics of power in this world. Kings only allowed their wives to take royal consorts if they were already bored of them, if their intimacy was no longer interesting. The thought of men always ruling women's lives because they thought them weak made her blood boil, and that was exactly what Christopher was doing now—exercising control purely for the sake of it.
The hand Christopher had braced on the writing desk suddenly cracked the solid mahogany, the wood splintering under the sheer force of his rage, which startled her into silence. He sat heavily in the chair, running a hand through his hair.
"If you wish to be pleasured by another, I don't have a problem with that," he said, his voice flat and dismissive, as if discussing the weather. "It's only fair, being that I do not desire you enough to warm my bed."
Desire her enough? The sheer audacity of that man made her heart pound in disbelief.
Back in her own kingdom, every man had admired her, for her rare, naturally red hair and her vivid green eyes. They always complimented her, lusted over her, showering her with attention. She had turned down countless marriage proposals, and yet here she was, for the first time in her life, being told by her husband that she wasn't attractive enough, that he didn't desire her. She couldn't believe the arrogance of this man. Just because his heart, lay with Alexander, it didn't give him the right to talk to her like that.
"I do not find you attractive either," she shot daggers at him, her voice laced with venom. She knew it was a lie, a defense mechanism. Christopher was, frustratingly, the most beautiful man she'd ever laid eyes on, but she would rather be drawn and quartered than give him the satisfaction of knowing that.
He stared at her for a while, a strange, unreadable expression crossing his features. "I'm glad to see we are on the same page." He stood up, towering over her once more. "I'll gladly grant your request for a consort, but it'll be on my terms. And my terms alone."
He walked toward the door, leaving her with those cryptic words. The heavy door slammed shut behind him, leaving Jackline alone in the quiet, charged room, staring at the shattered desk, her mind spinning with a mixture of confusion, rage, and a strange, humming awareness of the man who had just left.