The Alpha King's Lost Mate

Ch. 6

Seven

The room was deadly silent.

My heart was beating wildly in my chest.

The King was going to kill me now, I was sure of it. After that magic, there was no chance of me walking out of here alive.

I didn't have even the slightest clue what had just happened either. I only knew that I was about to be punished greatly for it.

"How did you just do that?" King Ambrose repeated, his voice thick with tension.

I couldn't find my voice. My throat felt like it was going to close and leave me gasping for air at any moment.

"How did you just do that?" It didn't sound like a question anymore. The King's power radiated off of him as he stood next to me, so close that his breath fanned over my cheek.

I couldn't find the strength to tear my eyes away from the magic flame still flickering atop the melting white candle on the bedside table.

Would the flame do it again? Would it show the same thing? Would it be different?

The questions rolled around inside my mind, dancing around until they filled up every single spare inch of my mind.

All of the wonder and excitement that I had felt holding King Ambrose's magic in my very own hands just minutes ago was all gone. That wonderful feeling, whatever it may have been was now replaced by pure and utter dread.

I was going to die.

But, the little voice in the back of my mind started to speak. King Ambrose has been so nice to you tonight, maybe he doesn't want to hurt you.

Madam Olympia had told me time and time again how evil and awful magic was that it was never of any use and only brought death and harm wherever it went.

I should have been a good girl and listened to her.

Now Gamma Thomas was going to punish me greatly when the King told him about what I had done.

This was the first time that I had ever seen magic with my own eyes, and it would be the last.

I silently vowed to myself, if the Goddess was kind enough to let me live tonight, then I would never even so much as look at magic again.

"How did you manage to just do that, Little One?" King Ambrose sunk closer to me on the bed, his words much softer and lighter than they had been just seconds ago. "How?"

King Ambrose ghosted the tips of his fingers-- the same ones that he had used to conjure that flame mere moments ago—over my t-shirt-clad shoulder. A trail of warmth followed his movements, seeping through the thin barrier between us.

Just moments ago, even though I knew it was wrong, I wanted nothing more than to soak up the way the King's touch made me feel. But now those small sparks only served to remind me about what I had just done.

"How were you able to make that flame change into those," the King paused as he searched for the right word. "Those scenes, Little One?"

"I..."

What words could I even use to explain myself?

"I don't know..." I said so softly that I wasn't even sure with the King's advanced, supernatural hearing he'd be able to hear me. "I don't know, Your Highness."

What had those 'scenes' as the King had called them, even been? Why did they appear when I touched the flame?

My limbs were heavy.