Reign of a King: Chapter 17

A rebirth.

Fascinating.

I stare down at Aurora’s defiant gaze, but I don’t see the façade she’s spent so long perfecting.

I don’t see her stand-offish reaction to me or how she challenges me like it’s her favourite sport.

Now, I see the girl who hid behind her sister’s dress. The girl who was innocent and then was tarnished so badly that she wished for a rebirth.

But she didn’t only wish for it. She made it happen.

Or so she thinks.

Even as a grown-up, there’s still a spark in Aurora’s eyes. Granted, it’s not the same as the brightness of that little girl’s. It’s almost like an update — a second version of sorts.

She thinks she’s had a rebirth, though.

That is fascinating.

People’s misconceptions about themselves or the world surrounding them is a form of weakness I latch onto without mercy.

But this one?

This one will be more interesting to explore. I’m going to dig my fingers into Aurora and unravel her thread by each tangled thread.

It started with my hand on her soft skin last night, and what soft skin it was. My cock twitches at the remembrance of my red handprint on her pale flesh and how she held on to me as her body proved to be the opposite of dead.

This will end with her falling at her knees in front of me.

Willingly. Without a fight.

“Have you paid your debts, Aurora?”

She straightens, her long, delicate throat turning rigid with the motion. A throat that will have my hand wrapped around it soon. “Debts?”

“Surely you know that even with rebirths, the current life carries the legacy of previous lives. It’s called karma. If you screwed someone over, you’ll pay in full during the following life.”

“You…you believe in rebirths?” Her full lips part. They’re still not red, but the pink colour coupled with the hitching of her breath sends energy straight to my groin.

My dick strains against the confines of my trousers, demanding to thrust inside that mouth and fuck those lips. Since he didn’t get his turn last night, it’s making him even more riled up.

Soon, though.

I’ll keep reviving that dead body and watch it fall apart by my own hands.

That’s my form of rebirth.

“You do,” I say. “I’m explaining it from your perspective.”

She lifts her chin, but it trembles as she speaks, “I’ve done nothing to pay for.”

Guilt. Fascinating again.

She feels guilty. But for what? For taking a stand? Does she regret being the reason she had to disappear?

Aurora Harper is nothing as she seems, and I’ll take my sweet time breaking her apart and peering inside that well-strapped armour.

“Dinner time.” I turn around and leave.

I need out of this room.

It should’ve been destroyed a long time ago, but I kept it as a reminder of what it feels like to lose.

Since then, all I’ve ever done is win.

Aurora follows soon after. From my peripheral vision, I catch a glance of her gazing at the door of Alicia’s room with a nostalgic, almost tearful expression.

After rebirth, people tend to never look back. To pretend like they’re newly born.

Not Aurora.

Her past has grown roots so deep, she couldn’t get rid of them even if she tried.

And for that reason, I’ll dig them up one by one.

Sure, I could’ve come with more underhanded methods. Threatening her company and her best friend could be only the beginning.

If I choose to, I could crush her and watch her wither to nothing at my feet.

But where’s the fun in that?

Besides, I’ve grown to like the slight spark in her ocean eyes when she decides to challenge me, or the grumpiness whenever she begrudgingly agrees to my demands.

Falling under my influence will come naturally to her. Eventually.

In the dining room, I sit at the head of the table and she takes what’s usually Levi’s seat on my left.

That punk will throw a fit if he sees someone else in his place, but it’s not like he ever shows up anymore.

For long seconds, Aurora and I eat our spaghetti à la carbonara in silence. Or, more accurately, I eat. She picks at her food, twirling the pasta around her fork, but barely brings anything to her mouth.

She did the same last night. I thought it was because she was nervous or out of sorts. Turns out, it’s a habit.

“Are all dinners going to be like this?” she finally asks, boredom clear in her tone.

“Like what?”

“Like a funeral home. I’m used to chatter and people. I usually have dinners at Layla’s family restaurant, where everyone is speaking and discussing the latest news or just…talking.”

“Talking without a reason is idiotic.”

“Are you calling my friends idiotic?”

“You’re the one who just did.”

She narrows her eyes, that spark rushing to the surface with a vengeance, but she quickly smothers her expression. It’s fast, almost imperceptible if I hadn’t been focused on her face.

She might share Alicia’s physical appearance, but she’s nothing like her sister.

Aurora is a fire where Alicia was earth. Deep and silent and everyone could step on her.

Aurora would burn anyone before they even attempted to.

“Surely you usually talk about something. How about if Aiden were here?” I don’t miss the way her voice lowers when she says his name.

Guilt. Again.

This time, I can guess why. The fact she didn’t make an effort to meet her nephew before now is eating at her.

And because she was careless enough to show me that bit, all I can do is use it.

“Aiden and I don’t talk during meals. Due to the absence of a motherly presence in his life, he grew up to be emotionally abnormal.”

She slowly sets the fork down but doesn’t release it, her pupils dilating. “Abnormal how?”

“Ask him.”

She won’t. Ever.

If anything, I suspect she’ll do everything in her might to avoid him. That’s what she did at his wedding. She didn’t dare mention that she was his aunt.

Her grip tightens around her fork as if accumulating strength before she completely releases it. “Do you enjoy it?”

“Enjoy what?”

“Making people feel small.”

“People tend to commit mistakes when they feel small.”

But it’s not like that with her.

Aurora is closed off in a way that makes it almost impossible to get to the centre of her. In order to do that, I have to exploit her weaknesses, one by each bloody one.

“You’re a sociopath.”

“And you’re not eating.”

“I’m not hungry. A certain presence has made me lose my appetite.”

“Watch that attitude, Aurora.”

She lifts her chin, even though I can see the fear in her gaze. “I’m just saying, food tastes better when I’m with many people.”

“False. You spend most of the time talking, so you don’t eat then either, but since many people are there, it goes unnoticed.”

She glares at me, and this time, she doesn’t attempt to hide her contempt. The fact that I can read her is throwing her off, and she has no way to express it but through glares.

“You will eat.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Do you prefer I make you?”

“I prefer you leave me alone.”

“Either you eat or you bear the consequences. Be smart and choose your battles, wild one.”

Aurora stares at me, her gaze calculating my words before her brain chooses to take the intelligent route. She’s well aware that she can’t win against me on this, so she might as well cut her losses now.

“Fine.” She picks up her fork again.

“Not there.”

Aurora lifts her head, brows creasing.

I tap my lap. “Over here.”