Claimed By The King(s) Of Kings

Theo

Roiner was back.

The news had spread through the campsite like, though many hearing the news had not seen him with their own eyes. It was Max who had actually spotted him and spread the news. And to say the royal brothers were irritated would be the understatement of the century.

Theo dragged his feet through the dirt path, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his jaw locked in a hard, dangerous line. The sheer audacity of the universe was almost impressive. For a whole month, the man had been completely off the grid at the palace, leaving them to simmer in their own chaos, and now he just casually decides to waltz back into the picture right when they were about to pull off their entire plan?

”I swear, if one more minor inconvenience happens today, I am going to burn this entire forest to the ground,” Theo muttered, his voice laced with venom.

Malric didn’t even bother answering, his face a stormy mask of absolute coldness as he reached out and forcefully shoved open the heavy wooden door to Team Fang’s cabin.

The brothers spilled inside, but before Vance could even take two full steps past the threshold, his boot caught on something heavy sitting right in the middle of the entrance.

With a loud, violent cursed gasp, Vance stumbled forward, his arms flailing wildly as he nearly crashed face-first into the dark timber floorboards. He caught himself at the very last second, regaining his balance with a sharp, furious huff. He spun around, his eyes blazing as he glared down at the light canvas bag resting innocently near the doorway.

”Whose fucking bag is this?!” Vance hissed, his voice echoing off the rustic wooden walls. Without waiting for an answer, he reared his leg back and kicked the canvas bag straight across the cabin with a harsh thud, sending it crashing into the far corner. ”Are you serious right now? Who leaves their shit right where people walk?!”

Malric didn’t even blink. He casually tossed his own leather duffel onto the sofa, his dark eyes trailing over the kicked bag with a look of utterly bored disgust. ”It’s the Whitelock boy’s, duh.”

Vance’s face contorted into pure, unadulterated rage. He practically twitched, his hands balling into tight, white-knuckled fists at his sides. ”That fucking boy better not start hurting me when he isn’t even in the room! I swear to God, I am going to wring his little neck the second he steps back through that door!”

”Oh, calm down, Vance,” Theo snapped, throwing himself onto the edge of a rustic armchair and running a hand through his hair, his mind racing in a million different directions. He looked up at his brothers, his eyebrows pulled together in a tight, desperate crease. ”How on earth are we still supposed to move on with our plan if Roiner is back? Tell me that. He will never let us touch a single hair on that boy’s head for some reason. I don’t know what kind of spell Travis cast on him, but that boy has him completely wrapped around his finger!”

It was true, and it drove Theo absolutely insane. Roiner’s strange, unyielding protection over the fragile first-year was a massive, looming obstacle. If the Headmaster caught even a whisper of what they were planning to do to Travis, he would flay them alive before the tournament even officially began.

Malric turned slowly, his expression icy, calm, and terrifyingly calculated. ”Well, it does not matter,” he said, his voice smooth as silk and twice as sharp. ”We will continue everything exactly as planned. We need to get our information out of that boy this week, because I am telling you, I am losing my mind here.”

Vance let out a low, bitter growl, leaning against the wooden table. ”And what about Roiner?”

”I will go see Roiner myself and ask him for the admission documents now that he’s back,” Malric replied, adjusting the cuffs of his dark uniform with chilling composure. ”I’m sure he has some documents with him. It’s not completely a waste that he’s back.”

Theo leaned forward, staring hard at his older brother, his heart hammering an anxious rhythm against his ribs. The pressure was suffocating. They were running out of time, running out of options, and if this blew up in their faces, the consequences would be catastrophic.

”Your plan better work, Malric,” Theo warned, his voice dropped to a low, deadly whisper. ”Because this is our absolute last resort. And if it doesn’t work perfectly... it’s going to end terribly for all of us.”

Vance nodded grimly, his eyes flashing with a dangerous, unstable light. ”He’s right. If this fails, Malric, we’re done.”

Malric merely smirked, a dark, ruthless glint passing through his eyes. ”It won’t fail.”

Aina

The cold mountain wind died down to a whisper, but inside Aina’s chest, a storm was raging.

She stood frozen at the edge of the dark forest line, her eyes wide, locked onto the towering, impossible figure of Roiner. The breath had been completely knocked out of her lungs. The relief was so sharp, so violent, it felt like a physical blow, threatening to burst the hot tears right out of her eyes.

Roiner didn’t say a single word. He didn’t have to.

Though neither of them wanted to move and just kept staring at each other, something had to be done. There was to many eyes surrounding them thus moving quickly Roiner gently took Aina wrist this touch cold against hers yet still made the butterflies in Aina stomach lose control.

He led her just deep enough to cover them from prying eyes, where the thick trunks of the trees blocked out the gray overcast sky and the loud chatter of the campsite faded into a distant, muffled hum. The air beneath the canopy was thick with the scent of pine needles, damp earth, and him.

The moment his grip loosened from her wrist, the floodgates inside Aina completely shattered.

She spun around to face him, her heart hammering violently against her ribs in a chaotic, frantic rhythm that rang out so loudly in the quiet woods she was dead certain his acute, dangerous senses could hear every single desperate beat.

”Oh my god,” Aina gasped out, the words tumbling out of her mouth in a wild, breathless heap. ”Where were you?! Did you like... run away because I said you looked hot?! Was that the problem?!”

Roiner’s dark eyes narrowed slightly, a subtle, razor-thin shift in his expression, but Aina was already rambling, her hands gesturing frantically in the air as she tried to fight back the hot tears stinging her vision.

”Wait no! I know that wasn’t the problem!” she cried softly, her voice cracking with the sheer weight of a month’s worth of suppressed terror and agonizing loneliness. ”Mrs. Gable said you were called to the capital, but why would it take a whole month?! Why would you just leave without a word?!”

She was practically vibrating with panicked energy, her chest heaving as she stared up at his breathtaking, sculpted face. She wanted to yell at him, she wanted to hit his chest, she wanted to demand answers for every single terrifying night she had spent wondering if she was going to be exposed and destroyed alone.

It’s not like she didn’t know she was being dramatic, he didn’t have to be there for her, after all they weren’t anything... anything at all. Who was she to him? Who was he to her?

Roiner was silent as he stepped directly into her space, eliminating the distance between them until her front was almost flush against his towering frame. Before she could process the sudden shift, his large, heavy arms came around her, pulling her firmly into his chest.

Aina’s breath hitched violently as she was enveloped in his heat.

He cradled her against him, one massive, warm hand coming up to gently cup the back of her head, his fingers threading softly into her messy hair as he drew her close. Heat flushed across Aina’s body; her mind went blank as she slowly settled in his embrace, taking in his scent.

”It’s alright,” Roiner murmured, his deep, intoxicating voice rumbling low against her cheek, vibrating straight through her bones. He didn’t pull away. He just held her tighter, his large hand slowly and gently patting the back of her head, anchoring her against the harsh, unforgiving world outside these woods.

”I am sorry,” he whispered, his hot breath brushing softly over the shell of her ear, sending an intoxicating, shiver-inducing wave of goosebumps down her spine. ”I am sorry, Aina. It was such a sudden call... the Crown required my immediate presence, and I could not delay.”

Aina let out a shaky, trembling exhale, burying her face against his chest. His scent, the scent made specifically for her by the goddess, washed over her senses, drowning out every fear, every threat from Sophia, and every shadow of the princes. It was magical the way the right scent can make someone almost forget the months worth of suffering they went through.

”You were gone so long,” she choked out softly, her fingers tightening their grip on his jacket. ”I thought...”

”I know,” Roiner interrupted softly, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous register that made her heart skip a beat. ”I know. But I am here now.”

Slowly, agonizingly, Roiner shifted his grip. His hand slid from the back of her head down to her neck, his broad thumb sweeping over her jawline to gently, masterfully tilt her chin upward.

Aina was forced to look up into his eyes.

The air between them ignited instantly, thick with an unbearable, suffocating heat. The darkness of the forest seemed to wrap around them, locking them into their own private universe where nothing else existed. His crimson eyes were burning, locked onto her face with an intensity so fierce it felt as if he were peering directly into her fragile soul.

Her lips parted on a soft, breathless gasp, her pulse thumping wildly in the hollow of her throat, right beneath where his thumb rested against her warm skin. Roiner’s gaze dipped down, tracking the movement of her soft, parted lips, and a dark, heavy hunger flared in his eyes.

”You have no idea,” Roiner purred low, his chest rising and falling in a deep, measured breath, ”how insufferable the capital was without you.”

Before Aina could even attempt to form a sentence, Roiner leaned down. The space between them vanished.

His lips captured hers in a deep, bruising, utterly intoxicating kiss.

It wasn’t gentle. It was a sudden, explosive release of a month’s worth of restrained desire and unspoken desperation. The heat of his mouth claimed hers completely, stealing the very breath from her lungs as his arm locked tightly around her waist, lifting her slightly onto her tiptoes and pulling her flush against his solid, unyielding body.

Aina let out a tiny, whimpering sigh against his lips, her hands sliding up his chest to wrap around his neck, sinking helplessly into the kiss as the world around them dissolved into absolute, beautiful chaos.