SWORN TO THE ALPHA KING

[34.3] THE MEET (part-two)

[SILVER RAYNE WILLIAMS]

It was a jerk reaction when my hand hid quickly behind my back, fingers squeezing the handle of the small blade. A shake between my fingers as I gripped the sides.

That is the only movement I could make. I was frozen in place. Unable to comprehend that the Tribrid Prince was standing before me when a second ago I had seen him in the royal tent.

So many questions, and so many emotions, but my mind ran blank, eyes wide, staring at him.

He is unmoving. A perfect statue with that saltwater gaze.
No emotion was visible, lips a thin straight line, his dark hair tied neatly behind him in a bun, hands behind his back, watching me rather calmly.

I want to look back at the royal tent. I want to confirm that this was the prince. But I knew I didn't need to do that. It was him.

The shake in my fingers confirmed this. My non-existent heartbeat confirmed this.

I had not anticipated this. My mind was pacing, body trembling.

He wasn't supposed to be here. I just wanted to see if he would show even a tiny bit of reaction if I had cut myself. Just a small reaction, perhaps a jerk of the head, a scowl of some sort-

But I had not-

Oh sweet heaven and earth, I had not expected this.

I hadn't even cut my knee yet. I was just about to swipe and then he-

My breathing is heavy, and he says nothing, just watches me.

I'm unsure if I should run away- no I must run. It's only logical after what he did to me last night. But I'm frozen in place. I feel like we would be standing here forever and in truth, part of me wishes that we do.

Just be trapped in this moment, so I don't have to see what comes next.

All I can remember is his cold hands against my throat. The fear in my eyes- and now- he is here. Right here.
I blink, and part of me scolds myself for shutting my eyes even for a second. I could have died.

My eyes are stinging and I'm unsure if it's because of the tears that wish to slip down my cheeks at my stupidity, or because I'm refusing to blink again.

He moves not even a step, just a motion of his hand and I stumble three steps back backward until my back hits the tree, the knife grazing the old bark.

And I'm panting, eyes wide at him, looking at the distance between us, as if I could somehow calculate how long it would take for him to reach me and snap my head off.

He pauses his movement, studying me for a moment, before raising his hand again.

"Give it to me." He states

I blink, looking down at his open palm, eyes linking back to his still gaze.

He tilts his head slightly to the right,  his gaze drops to my hidden hands.

I follow his eyes,  looking down, my throat dry, and unable to swallow. My shaky hands retrieve the hidden blade, staring at it for a second.

I'm scared to move but more scared of death. I know it's best to do what he wishes. I move forward carefully, placing the blade in his open palm, making sure I do not touch him. Once the blade is in his hold, I pelt backward, my back against the tree.

He stares at me for a moment, before his gaze trails down to his palm, examining the small knife.

It was still stained with blood from the small nick I had given myself on my finger.