Trapped with the Alpha King-Chapter 241: To Marry Me

“Feeding you,” he replied simply, lifting the spoon. “This is what I used to do with you before, aside from—”

Her cheeks warmed. “Stop. I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

For some reason, she had a feeling the man would be shameless enough to say far more than necessary. It was pure instinct, a quiet warning in her gut, and it made her cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Last night, Melva had told her everything. Every detail Melva could remember, including how the Alpha King had been impossibly possessive, almost obsessive, as if he could never get enough of her. How he had held her as though letting go was unthinkable, how his affection had left love bites scattered across her skin.

Her mind might not remember any of it. But her body clearly did.

The realization alone was mortifying. Heat crept up her neck, and she had to look away, pressing her lips together as if that could calm the flutter in her chest. And yet, beneath the embarrassment, there was something else. Something softer and warmer. She felt comfortable around him. Safe.

There was no fear, no sense of danger when he was near. Instead, there was a strange familiarity, as though some part of her already knew him, trusted him, even if her memories refused to cooperate.

It confused her. It unsettled her. But it also made her heart ache in a way she could not explain.

Gavriel chuckled quietly. “You complained every time. And you always ate anyway.”

She hesitated, then allowed him to bring the spoon to her lips. The food was warm, soothing as it slid down her throat, easing a tightness she had not realized was there. Gavriel watched her closely, as if each swallow was a small victory.

“This feels... strange,” she admitted after a few bites.

“I know,” he said. “You do not have to be comfortable with it yet. I can stop.”

She shook her head slowly. “No. It’s just... my body feels like it knows you, even if my mind doesn’t.”

Something flickered across his expression, something tender and painful all at once. “That is enough for now,” he murmured.

He fed her in silence for a while, the moment fragile but real. When she finished, she lowered her gaze and murmured, “Thank you for the food.”

Gavriel studied her face, as if weighing something he had been holding back all morning. “Was it good?” he asked softly.

She opened her mouth to answer, but before the words could form, his arm tightened around her, firm yet careful, as though he feared she might vanish if he let go. Althea gasped, more in surprise than protest, and her hands instinctively pressed against his chest.

“Gavriel—”

He did not silence her with force. Instead, he leaned in slowly, giving her every chance to pull away. When she didn’t, his lips brushed hers, tentative at first, almost reverent. The kiss deepened only slightly, unhurried and searching, as if he were trying to remember her through touch alone.

Gavriel felt her hesitation, sensed the way her body reacted despite her uncertainty, but he took the chance. He gently suckled her lower lip, then her upper one, slow and deliberate, before his mouth tilted and his tongue slipped past her lips, deepening the kiss.

It was unhurried, coaxing rather than demanding, as if he were reminding her of something her mind had forgotten but her heart still recognized.

Althea’s breath hitched. Her body reacted before her thoughts could catch up, a familiar warmth blooming in her chest that confused her even more than the closeness itself. She did not kiss him back, not truly, but neither did she push him away. She stayed, caught between instinct and uncertainty.

He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against hers, his breath uneven. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, a faint, roguish curve to his lips. “I thought it would be better if I tasted it from your mouth.” His thumb brushed her cheek as his voice dropped. “But then again... you’ve always tasted good.”

Althea’s face burned. She quickly slipped out of his lap, smoothing her dress as if it had suddenly become the most important thing in the world. Her heart was still racing, her lips tingling in a way she did not want to acknowledge just yet.

“I... I should get ready,” she said softly, then cleared her throat and hurried on before he could tease her again. “I was thinking... I want to go home.”

Gavriel straightened slightly. The playful warmth in his eyes softened into something gentler, more attentive. “Home?” he echoed.

“Yes.” She clasped her hands together, steadying herself. “I want to see my siblings. And my friends.”

“We can go,” he said. “Not today, but soon. The healers will want you to rest a little longer. And I want to make sure the journey won’t exhaust you.”

“I really want to go home,” she said again, this time more firmly. “And I don’t want to delay it.”

Gavriel’s brows knit slightly. “Althea—”

She lifted her hand, stopping him before he could soften it or redirect the conversation. “Please, let me finish. I know you keep saying soon, but soon can turn into later, and later into never. I don’t want that. I need to see my siblings. I need to see my people. If I keep waiting, I’ll start doubting myself.”

He studied her quietly, seeing not a fragile woman recovering from death’s edge, but a queen who knew what she wanted.

“I’m not running away,” she continued, her voice steady. “If accepting the title of Aetherion Princess formally is what needs to happen before leaving, then I’ll do it. Today. And if the wedding ceremony according to Aetherion’s customs will make things clear and unquestionable, then we should do that too.”

The words settled heavily between them.

Gavriel stared at her, clearly caught off guard. “Today?” he repeated with a look at her as if he hadn’t heard her correctly the first time.

“You mean...” he continued slowly, disbelief still threading his voice, “you’re willing to marry me here?”