Where The Spirit Meets The Bone

Twelve: Aleksander Morozova

Twelve

Lord  Aleksander Morozova

She was wearing sapphire blue. Not black. Somehow, it brought out her brown eyes. I had expected to see her in the delicious little black number that he had picked her up. He hadn't expected to see her in color. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen color in his house. It looked out of the ordinary. Everyone would be looking at her when they went to the restaurant. He didn't know if he'd like that.

They went out of the house to the car that was outside waiting for them. The driver opened the door for them. "After you," Lord Morozova said, and he watched her get into the car. He got in after her and closed the door behind him.

"You know," he said, "being that you aren't accustomed to the rules of court, it's probably best that you listen to me from now on."

From her seat across from him, Alina shot him a withering glare. "You would like that, wouldn't you?"

"Blue is considered a royal color," he told her, "if we were having dinner at court right now, you'd be seated last and possibly banished from court for a month depending on how offended the queen was."

Alina laughed. "You've got to be kidding me. There's a dress code at court?"

"Yes," he told her, "in fact, Baghra is going to be training you in court etiquette after our honeymoon."

Alina coughed. "Honeymoon?"

"Well of course," he said, "we'll need time alone to consummate the marriage."

She laughed. "You must think I'm an idiot. I know how the marriage law works. If we haven't consummated it within the year, we---"

He smirked at her. "It will be consummated within a year."

"You're that certain, are you?"

"If I weren't so concerned with legitimacy, I would seduce you right now. Although there are plenty of things I could do to at least get you in the mood for seduction. For instance, I could put my hands right in between your---"

She closed her thighs tightly together. "Not in a million years."

He leaned back in his seat. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," she said with a nod, "I'm getting out of this marriage one way or another."

"And maybe I'll challenge Nikolai again, so you don't have another groom," he said.

She glared at him. "You are absolutely terrible. Haven't you ever been in love? Or dated? That isn't how you get the girl."

"And you are such an experienced young woman on matters of the heart? A little birdie told me that you and Nikolai didn't even sleep together."

She stiffened. "Is that little birdies name Zoya?"

"I'll never tell," he said, with a smirk, "I honor people's privacy."

"But not their right to choose, apparently," Alina said.

"Not if it interferes with me getting what I want. It frequently does."

The car pulled to a stop. They were at the restaurant. He looked out the window, just in time to see a flash. "Saints," he muttered to himself.

"What was that?" Alina said.

"Paparazzi. They're going to be all over you."

Alina made a face. "Can't you order them to go away?"

"Unfortunately, there's too many of them for that. You're just going to have to take my hand as we make a run for it." He took off his seat belt, she undid hers, and he grabbed her hand before he could protest.

He pulled her through a crowd of paparazzi that was snapping pictures and shouting at them, making it almost impossible to get through the restaurant. He gripped her hand tightly. It had been a long time since he had held someone's hand. Once they managed to get inside the restaurant, he could have let her go. But he liked the feel of her hand in his, and so he kept it firmly in place.

He saw Alina look down at their hands. He expected her to wrench away. To his surprise, she didn't let go either.

"Come on," he said, "I got us a table in the back."

Alina stiffened. "What for?"

"I figured you wouldn't like the idea of everyone staring at us on our first date."

Alina pulled away, her hand wrenched from his, and he hated it. "You mean to say that you think this is a date? A date means that I was asked. A date means that I was romanced. None of that has happened. This isn't a date, this is a kidnapping. I didn't consent to any of this."

"Then you would rather that I duel Nikolai for the right to your hand?"

Alina clenched her jaw. "You're horrible."

"I never claimed to be a saint, Miss Starkov," he said, "but I did give you a choice. You may not have liked the choice, but I did give you one. Besides, I am going to make you one of the most powerful women in Ravka. How can you possibly be mad at that?"

"Because I didn't ask for this. I didn't want any of this. I didn't want----" she stopped short.

He grinned. "You didn't what?"

She wrapped her arms over her chest and jutted her chin out defiantly. "It's none of your business."

"Well, I am your fiancé. We are going to be married, and part of that involves sharing everything."

"We're not married yet," she said, "I'm still entitled to my privacy."

"And I'm entitled to my dinner," he said, "come on."

He took her hand again. She didn't pull away. The two of them made their way to the back of the restaurant. Once they were in the private room, he'd gotten for them, he pulled out a chair for her.

"My Lady," he said, grinning at her.

"I will never be your anything," she said, but she sat down in the chair anyway.

He smiled. She had held his hand and hadn't let go. And maybe she did hate him. But they were getting married on Sunday, and they had their entire lives for Alina to fall in love with him. Which she would, one way or another. Or, if not love, at the very least, in lust. Anything that meant that he got his heir, and then eventually, his country. Alina would be his first, and then it would be all of Ravka. Together, they would be King and Queen. And a new dawn would come for their country.