The Lycan King's Puppet

Her words had reached deep inside and provoked something that was best left buried.

His hands stopped in their pursuit. She tensed as well, her erratic breathing gradually slowing down.

"Perhaps you’re right." He heard her sharp intake of breath.

"But no one would come close to wanting you the way I do."

She pushed up to a sitting position.

His eyes laid on her breasts briefly before dragging themselves back to her face.

Then she folded her arms across her chest.

"Wanting me is not the same thing as loving me."

He took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

"Love isn’t for men like me, Claire." His voice dipped to a whisper.

Her eyes softened.

"Because you don’t want to be loved."

He shook his head. "The moment I care about something too much, it would be used against me."

She fell back on the bed, her folded arms falling away.

"I understand."

He drew closer until he was looking into her eyes.

"Do you love me?"

She only stared back at him.

"I wouldn’t know if I did, Your Grace. Every morning, I still hope you fall off a horse and break both your legs."

"Lycans don’t break their legs." He planted a kiss on her jaw - just below her lips.

"But this time, you would. I’ll make sure of it."

"And how would you do that?"

She glanced up at the ceiling as she thought of something to say.

He watched the way she bit her lower lip as she was thinking.

Did she always do that or did he never notice?

"I can’t think of anything devious when you’re this close."

He grinned.

"Because you’re thinking about me?"

A bright blush stained her cheeks.

"You’re a conceited fool - someone has to tell you that."

He chuckled at her words.

She tilted her head and watched him, struggling to hold back her own laughter.

"I’ve never spent my afternoon making love to a woman who thinks I’m a conceited fool."

She giggled.

"Mayhap those women were too overcome by your handsome body, soft kisses and... large sword to think of anything else."

Large sword?

That sounded like something Andon would have said.

He pressed a kiss at the base of her neck, sniffing the sweet-scented oils she bathed in.

"So are you overcome by my soft kisses and large sword?"

She pushed him away playfully.

"I should call my guard to escort you out for asking such a scandalous question."

"You forget that he answers to me, Miss Stenly."

She bit her lower lip again.

What was she thinking about this time? It was hard to know her thoughts when her face was expressionless.

"So you mean to say that you spend your afternoons with other women."

He narrowed his eyes at her.

"Don’t put words in my mouth, Miss Stenly. I don’t have time for women - you’re the first woman that dragged me from my desk and into her bed in the middle of the day."

"Dragged you?" She laughed, sounding as incredulous as she felt.

"That’s the only word that fully describes it."

"You’re the one who barged in here and threw my flowers away." She jabbed a finger at his chest.

"Because you don’t need them."

"Since when did you start deciding what I need?"

He placed another kiss just above her breasts.

"Stop distracting me from the topic..." He kissed the tip of one breast.

Her reaction was instant. A soft gasp tore through her parted lips.

"Distracting you?" He chuckled as he continued his torturous ministrations.

"Yes... I was going to ask if there are other women."

"Since I met you? Or since I became a man?"

She bit her lip again.

"Stop doing that."

She glanced at him with wide eyes. "Stop doing what?"

Didn’t she realize what the single gesture was doing to him?

"Biting your lip."

She coloured instantly. "What’s wrong with biting my lip?"

"You don’t want to know what it does to me, Miss Stenly."

Her eyes darkened, suddenly challenging.

"I want to know."

He moved slightly. Yeren felt her tense when his arousal rubbed along the skin of her thigh.

For a brief moment, there was silence.

Then she tightened her hips around him.

"Since you’re getting married in a fortnight, this is the last time this can happen between us."

"What are you saying?" His voice came out bored.

She cleared her throat too loudly.

"I am saying that out of respect for your bride-to-be, you are no longer welcome in my bed." Then she leaned close to whisper in his ear, "So I advice you make it memorable."

He scoffed. "And if I don’t end up marrying her?"

"You’ll still have to marry someone else."

"And if that person is you?"

She laughed, a dry and mirthless sound. "I still don’t have a wolf and a title."

Instead of responding, he reached between them and undid the cusp of his zipper.

"Time will tell our fate, Miss Stenly."

Then, he slid into her.

She held his shoulders, her fingers digging into the tense skin there.

Her eyes were closer, her lips slightly parted.

On the first day they met, he’d dreamed about seeing her like this - naked in his arms, but he never thought it was possible.

And now that it was, the thought of losing it sounded almost... painful.

But marrying Garelle was a necessity. If only Claire had a wolf, her noble blood would atone for her family’s current destitute state.

But she didn’t.

And it didn’t look like she would have one in the nearest future.

His thrust became faster. Her skin was flushed, bead of sweat sliding down her neck and forehead.

He felt her clench around him as the final wave of pleasure hit both of them.

This was the last time.

Or was it?

He gathered her in his arms quietly. She didn’t object, only snuggling closer.

Yeren felt his Lycan stir within him.

Not this time, he thought grimly.

The bruises on her shoulders had faded to purple marks.

His Lycan wasn’t violent for once. It was just... there.

"Yeren."

But her lips hadn’t moved.