The Lycan King's Puppet-Chapter 106: Cold Dinner

She couldn’t deny that her body jolted every time his hands grazed her thighs.

Claire could’ve told him to stop, but she didn’t want to.

The thought that the night didn’t mean as much to him as it did to her made tears burn behind her eyes.

But she couldn’t let him see her cry.

He stood and went back to the basin for another dip. She followed him with her gaze, noting the rigid set of his shoulders.

He was angry? Angry at what?

He came back and resumed his ministrations, never meeting her gaze.

His knuckles brushed a sensitive place and she jerked.

He glanced up at her. There was a slight flicker of mischief in his eyes before it disappeared. She could have imagined it.

When he was done, he pulled her legs together and fastened the robe over. The slight brush of his fingers on her bare skin made her want to do something wild.

"You should eat. The food is getting cold."

Yeren returned to the basin. He stood there for a while before returning to where she still sat.

"Do I have to beg you?"

"I lost my appetite." She was wearing his robe, sitting on his bed, staying in his room. Everything was his, and he could easily take it from her. The thought unsettled her.

"I should go." She rose up from the bed.

He grasped her hand.

Their gazes met and locked.

"There’s no need for me to remain where I’m clearly not wanted."

Something flashed in his eyes but it disappeared before she could discern what it was. His jaw tensed and his grip on her hand tightened.

"Don’t put words in my mouth, Claire. I want you to eat - even if it means feeding you."

She looked away, trying to compose herself.

"I can have the meal in my own room."

His grip on her hand fell away.

"You don’t have to leave, Claire." His voice softened to a near-whisper.

Her tense body softened somewhat.

It’s just a meal, she told herself. It won’t hurt to have a meal with him.

He held out his hand to her. She took the offered hand and let him guide her into the outer chamber of the room.

True to his word, there was a lot of food there - more than anything she could hope to finish on a good day.

She sat down on the seat he held out for her and waited.

He took his seat, wincing when it scraped loudly against the marble floor.

Yeren carried the dish close to her and emptied some into her plate.

He served himself as well, watching her out of the corner of his eye as he took a bite.

"Why aren’t you eating?"

"I already told you I don’t have an appetite."

He dropped his fork. "Forgive me, Claire."

Forgive him? Was he apologising?

She picked up her fork and took a small bite of the salted meat before her.

"I have something to show you... only if you eat properly."

Her gaze snapped to his. Curiosity always killed the cat in her situation.

Claire began to eat more, her appetite springing to life almost instantly.

He grinned. "You never cease to amaze me." He murmured.

She looked up.

"Do I?"

A blush crept up her cheeks.

"I almost thought you wouldn’t talk to me till heaven comes down."

She was struggling not to smile - that had been her actual intention.

"I don’t have a choice. I’m your-"

"Don’t say it."

"Or what?"

"Do you think I’m the kind of King that makes love to his servants?"

She glanced around the room, at anything but him.

"No. But there’s always a first time for everything, Your Grace."

He dropped his fork and rested his both hands on the table.

"You seem hellbent on provoking me."

"I am hellbent on doing just that. I feel like one of those unfortunate women who develop affections for a man that could never belong to them."

His gaze softened.

That’s when she realized the nonsense she just said.

"You have affections for me?"

She said nothing.

He laid a hand on her knee beneath the table.

"Don’t." She whispered.

The tears threatened again. He clearly didn’t have any affection for her from the incredulous way his voice sounded.

She stood up and went back into his room to get her dress and undergarments.

It was... unbearable.

What had she even been thinking?

Claire could hear his quiet footsteps behind her.

"This night is special for me, Claire. Don’t ruin it." His hands slipped around her from behind.

"Ruining it." She repeated sourly.

"Just stay. You can leave in the morning."

Why wouldn’t he let her leave when she wanted to leave? 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

Curiosity and resignation warred with her mind as she nodded.

He fetched a parchment from his table and gave it to her.

A poem?

It wasn’t about her.

From the yellow and creased nature of the parchment, she could tell it was an old one

"I thought you didn’t want me to see your poems?"

"Just read it."

She perched herself at the edge of the bed and read it.

It was about his summer spent in the very room she was seated in. And his mother had just died.

"Why are you showing me this?"

He sat down beside her.

"I wanted you to know that even royalty suffer at some point in their lives."

She raised a brow, still confused.

"You should rest."

Her eyelids felt heavy - sleep was inevitable.

He moved to the table and poured himself some wine.

Claire laid down at the center of the bed and stared at the ceiling.

"Your mother wasn’t beheaded for a crime she didn’t commit."

"But she died all the same, didn’t she? Pain is everywhere."

She lifted her hands and traced the patterns on the ceiling.

"You should’ve told me from the beginning."

The whole thing still weighed on her.

"You didn’t owe me anything, Miss Stenly. You still don’t. But I owe you everything."