I stole another glance at him, hoping—praying—that he had gone back to his work.
But no such luck.
I never had been lucky to begin with so it didn’t co as a surprise to find out he was still watching , though now there was a more thoughtful look in his eyes, as if he were considering sothing important.
It made uneasy.
"Shouldn’t you be focusing on your duties, Your Majesty?" I asked, trying to sound casual, calm... composed. "You know, instead of... whatever this is."
He chuckled softly, the sound low and rich, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. "I find this far more interesting," he admitted, leaning back in his chair once more. "Besides, I have done enough work for one evening."
"Well, I haven’t finished my dinner," I retorted, hoping to steer the conversation back to sothing less... flustering.
He didn’t respond right away, but I could feel the shift in his deanor. The teasing edge in his expression softened ever so slightly, replaced by sothing I couldn’t quite na. It was strange, seeing him like this—calm, almost... content.
"You don’t have to rush," he said quietly, and for once, there was no teasing in his voice, just a simple statent. "Take your ti."
I paused for a mont.
That was easy for him to say—effortless, really—after dropping that line on , the one that made my heart skip a beat and my thoughts spiral into chaos.
He had this uncanny ability to disarm with a single sentence, to stir sothing in I didn’t even know was there. It wasn’t just his words—it was the way he said them, like he knew exactly how to get under my skin.
And oh, he had gotten under my skin, all right. His casual charm, the way his lips curved with a smirk after speaking, like he knew he had tangled in his web—it infuriated as much as it intrigued .
I wanted to turn the tables. I wanted to see that sa flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, to make his composed facade crack. I wanted to get under his skin the way he so effortlessly word his way under mine. It wasn’t fair that he could leave flustered while walking away unscathed. If this was a ga, I wanted a shot at winning, or at least leveling the playing field.
With that in mind, I picked up my spoon, dipping it into the rich sauce on my plate. I lifted it slowly, purposefully, and glanced up to see His Majesty still watching with that sa unreadable intensity. My heart hamred in my chest, but I ignored it.
There was no ti to second-guess.
Keeping my eyes locked on his, I brought the spoon to my lips, letting my tongue flick against the underside before I dragged it up, slowly licking the sauce clean from bottom to top. I didn’t blink, watching for any sign that I had managed to ruffle his composure.
His breath hitched—just barely—but it was enough. His crimson eyes darkened ever so slightly, and for a split second, I saw sothing flicker across his expression. Sothing raw, sothing primal.
"If Your Majesty insists that I eat slowly..." I began, my tone soft but teasing, "...who am I to argue?"
With that, I lowered my gaze back to my al before he could say anything, my cheeks burning with a blush that felt entirely too hot. I didn’t know what possessed to do that, but the montary shift in his deanor—the slight crack in his usually impenetrable mask—made it worth it.
A few monts passed in silence.
Despite my resolve to focus on my food, I couldn’t help but sneak another glance at him. He was still watching , of course, but now there was sothing different in his gaze—a gleam of amusent, as though he knew exactly what I was trying to do. His lips curved into a slow, knowing smile, and then, to my surprise, he chuckled softly, the sound low and intimate.
"Layla, Layla, Layla," he murmured, running a hand through his hair in a way that sohow made him look even more infuriatingly attractive. "You will be the death of ."
I froze.
It wasn’t his teasing tone that startled , nor was it the way he looked at , as though I was so intriguing puzzle he intended to solve. No, it was the fact that he had used my na.
He had never done that before.
Hearing him say it, in that low, familiar voice, sent an odd warmth through . My heart skipped a beat, then raced ahead, faster than before. Why did it feel so different, hearing my na from his lips?
I shouldn’t want to hear it again. I shouldn’t, but I did. Desperately.
But of course, I couldn’t say that. Instead, while trying to keep my composure, I busied myself with my al, trying to act as though his words hadn’t thrown off balance. It was harder than it should have been, especially with him still watching .
It took all my willpower to appear unaffected.
"Are you still going to keep staring at all night, Your Majesty?" I asked, keeping my tone light, though my voice betrayed a hint of breathlessness.
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his gaze never wavering. "Perhaps," he said after a mont, his smirk widening. "You’re quite... entertaining tonight."
"Glad I could amuse you," I muttered, more to myself than to him.
I didn’t know what ga we were playing anymore. All I knew was that it felt like walking a tightrope—one misstep, and I would fall. And yet, despite the danger, I couldn’t stop myself from continuing. It was like so invisible thread kept pulling toward him, no matter how much I tried to resist.
And judging by the way he looked at , I wasn’t the only one caught in that strange pull.
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