The Lycan King's Puppet-Chapter 50: Resignation
She didn’t know how long she sat there, lost in her thoughts.
Aurora was right, her words were a call to reality - no matter how painful.
And the worst part was that Rory no longer saw things the way a girl her age would’ve.
Being wolfless didn’t mean being special - it meant being doomed, she thought to herself.
Doomed people got nothing good out of life - even if they worked harder than anyone else, her father always told her.
Climbing down from the bed, she wiped her eyes.
She was going to quit, damn the consequences. Then, she’ll threaten the priest to finalize the bond-breaking process and hunt down the blasted wolf that forced her sister to grow up so fast.
But first, she needed to end the farce the King started.
She might be a peasant, but she wanted to be a peasant with a choice.
Glancing down at her peach-coloured gown, she nodded in approval. She wasn’t dressed to impress, but she looked presentable.
Tugging a brush through her tangled hair briefly, she headed for the door.
Claire wiped her sweaty palms on her dress before turning the handle of the door.
Once out, her blood ran cold. Perspiration beaded on her forehead.
It suddenly wasn’t so simple to march up to the King and tell him that she no longer wanted to serve him.
What if he disagreed? What if...? The list was endless.
She passed a few servants on her way to his room.
The guards at the door of his chambers parted to let her through without a word.
Her knuckles pounded into the thick wood of the door.
A masculine grunt heralded her welcome.
Claire hesitated before she let herself in.
The chamber was dimly lit. The curtains danced furiously to the evening’s breeze. Darkness was fast approaching and the view of the setting sun from his window was divine.
The bed was slightly creased, the linens drawn away neatly.
"Your Grace?"
"Andon, don’t tell me..."
She finally spotted him. He was bending over the corner of his table, scribbling something down. Their eyes met.
"I don’t need wine."
Her already stiff posture became stiffer.
Her gaze slid down to his garment. He was still wearing the bathing robe of earlier.
Claire’s throat worked. Her purpose was almost forgotten.
"I know, Your Grace. I came for something else."
Something flashed in his gaze.
He set the quill on the table and perched himself at the edge.
"Well, what can I help you with, Miss Stenly."
His eyes were bright with mischief. It made her wonder what it would feel like to flirt with such a man.
"I no longer want to serve as your Cupbearer." The words came out rushed.
Her heart was hammering as she waited for him to belittle her request.
"Why?"
"The role is... unfairly inappropriate."
"Is that so?"
She gulped.
"Yes, Your Grace. I want to go home."
"Home." He said the word as if testing it. "And if I choose not to release you from your obligations?"
Claire averted her gaze. It was time to play her last card.
"I would rather be locked in the dungeons than serve you another day."
"Look at me when you speak to me." She lifted her head. "Have I ever mistreated you in any way?"
’Yes! You mistreat me with the way you look at me!’ she wanted to scream at him.
"No." She said instead.
"Shall I ask the guards to escort you to your new chambers?" He cracked a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
He wasn’t yielding?
"Why won’t you let me go?"
He tilted his head as he watched her.
"You gave me two options, and I picked one."
"It was one option. You’re too righteous to toss an undeserving woman in a dungeon cell."
"Undeserving woman, you say? Why would such a woman subtly accuse me of abuse and opt to throw herself in the dungeons?"
Her eyes narrowed.
"You wouldn’t dare." She muttered under her breath.
"You sound so sure of yourself. What makes you think I can’t do it?"
Her gaze fell to the floor as colour stained her cheeks.
"You’d never harm me."
"A night in a cold cell wouldn’t harm you. Convince me, Claire."
The way her name rolled off his tongue made her stomach melt within her.
"Because you said you’d protect me." Then she shook her head.
He waited patiently for her to give a solid reason, never taking his eyes off her.
"Because... you want me."
He laughed, not a mocking laugh, a deep, low sound that made her knees weak.
"You sound so... certain."
Claire licked her dry lips.
"I... I am."
She didn’t notice when he slid off the table - he moved without a sound.
Yeren stood in front of her, towering over her effortlessly.
She backed away as he advanced, crashing into the cold stone wall.
There was nowhere left to run.
"You asked a question, I gave an answer. Can we just-"
He placed a finger over her lips.
"I keep you by my side for a very different reason, Claire." Leaning forward, he said, "Should I show you how different it is?"
His lips grazed hers, gentle at first, then firm and searching.
She tried squirming but the hard planes of his chest pressed her into the wall.
His hands slid along the waist of her boneless gown, tracing the span of her waist.
His touch sent shivers down her spine. Heat pooled in her stomach and somewhere else she couldn’t name.
Yeren’s hair fell over her face, tickling her as he kissed her. She didn’t realize when she gave up the battle and began kissing him back.
As soon as her lips, he slipped in, tasting her. He tasted like wine and... grapes?
She gasped into his mouth, breathless.
Then, he slid down to her neck, undoing her with the warm caress of his lips. Shudders of excitement ripped through her.
No logical thought would form. Her vision blurred.
His hands cupped her breasts through the fabric. She could feel the warmth of his hands and her nipples hardened in response.
"Take off your dress."
The sight of him, panting and breathless made her own lungs desert her.
In an attempt to obey, she fumbled with the front laces of her gown.
All memory of her initial intention faded into his touch.
The way he looked at her...
The heat in his gaze.
The stupid lace was too tight to remove. She cursed under her breath.
Cursing as well, he held the shoulders of her gown and
pulled them apart.
The sound of ripping fabric cut through their loud breathing.
She gasped.
