Yeara remained there. Something about those words told her that she might be getting more than a cookie. At the side was a plate filled with cookies of different flavours. For some reason, the urge to take one hit her — the way it looked, her stomach really wanted that.
"What is your motive, your majesty?" she spoke, her eyes searching his face to see what he was thinking, or rather have a little idea.
Her face looked skeptical, almost like she had a hard time trusting this man because she did, you would never just know his next move.
Zalthor chuckled, his head pressing back against the pillow as if enjoying this. That movement made some strands fall to his face, making him look more handsome in the most shocking and disbelieving way.
He refused to brush them away and just let them stay there while his dark eyes moved to her ever so slowly. Yeara's heart began to beat loudly; it was like he was about to eat her —that predatory gaze.
