The Lycan King's Puppet-Chapter 14: True Colors

She felt heat pool in her stomach. His lips were warm and moist, teasing her until she parted her lips.

His hand slipped into her hair, pulling her closer. A moan escaped her as he invaded her mouth gently. She felt herself melting against him. All logical thought faded from her head. Claire lifted her hand to push him away, but ended up resting that hand against his chest.

Until, his other hand held her wrist. Pain shot through her bruised wrist, reminding her instantly of everything at stake. She winced and drew back, blinking furiously.

"Why did you do that?"

He pulled away. "I wanted to." His hand remained on hers. Her throat tightened like it was filled with sand. He had tasted like wine, but sweeter. She ran her hands through her hair. Claire had been sweating despite the cool evening air.

"I should leave." She rose up. Leaves rustled as she was protesting her sudden departure. She glanced over her shoulder at where Andon stood.

Had he seen the kiss? Her stomach twisted.

"A kiss won’t erase everything you’ve done to my family. Your grace."

Instead of arguing, he simply said, "It won’t."

Her brows furrowed. "Then why do it?"

He stood as well, towering over her. "I was trying to appeal to the woman within you." Her gaze faltered as she looked away. His hair was wet from the slight drizzle. It made him look raw, yet attractive. She gripped her skirt tighter.

"And what response did he get from the woman within me?"

He stepped closer, covering the distance between them. "She is letting her hatred dictate her actions. I want to help you."

Claire folded her arms across her chest in an attempt to put up walls that had already been broken. "I am not your charity project. I don’t need help, least of all from you."

His jaw tensed. If he wanted to hurt her just then, he would have. She felt his restraint more than she felt the rain seeping into her dress. There was more he wanted to say.

"If you don’t want to marry the young Lord Straught, just say the words. I will put an end to the engagement before dusk tomorrow." Yeren’s voice was calm, almost stiff. But when she looked at his eyes, she saw him.

"You don’t want to actually help me."

"I am no fool, Your Grace. I want to make the indebted to you so that you will collect your pound of flesh however you see fit. I will fall for it."

A deep sigh erupted from him. "You once accused me of having no honor-"

"How could I forget? You said you have none when the woman you want is involved. I will tell you one last time, Your Grace. I am no whore."

He turned his back to her, slipping both his hands through his wet hair. "I’ll be waiting for the day you finally want my help. And dare I say, I won’t be collecting any pound of flesh." He started walking away.

"Stay away from me," she called out to his receiving friend. Her voice shook.

Andon rushed to follow him. And she was left alone.

There was no doubt he could help her. He had sounded sincere. Almost like he... cared.

She shook her head. It was all a tactic - one she wasn’t going to fall for. He wanted her to be dependent on him. The biggest mistake she could make would be to trust her father’s murderer.

She sank down on the wet bench. Her thoughts drifted back to the kiss. The kiss wasn’t shy or apologetic like Zach’s had been. He had acted like he owned her, like he had every right to touch her. And she hadn’t stopped him. She clenched her fists. She was betraying her father. Her sister. Herself. The worst part was that he didn’t even use force or his position to coerce her. He didn’t have to.

He clasped fists to the knees of her gown, nearly shredding the fabric.

Maybe Uncle Jarren was right about her. She was beginning to crave male attention. The thought sent a shiver of disgust through her.

A twig snapped in the distance, and her blood ran cold. She sat up straighter, alarm coiling through her. Leaves rustled in the wind, upsetting the eerie quiet. Then a figure emerged from the shadows. A man. She recognized the walking posture all too well - the slight dip of the shoulders, the arrogant tilt of the head. Uncle Jarren. He found her.

Her first instinct was to wipe her lips. They were too swollen from Yeren’s kiss.

"Why are you all by yourself? Where is your chaperone." His deep voice chilled her to the bone. He stood before her, his boots covered in mud.

"I needed solitude." He gazed round over her features. She hoped her skin wasn’t still flush, and her lips were no longer swollen. If not, the doctor might have to pay her another visit.

A satisfied smirk rested on his face after a brief minute of introspection. She almost gave herself away by sighing too loudly.

Slowly, he sat down beside her and inhaled the breeze. The rain splattered still, covering their shoes and hems with dirt.

Claire slowly inched away from the man. Her heart hammered so loudly she feared he could hear it.

Then, faster than the wind, his hand shot out and gripped her hair.

"He was here, wasn’t he?"

He pulled her hair so hard her scalp stretched. Tears welled in her eyes.

"Who?" She choked out.

He yanked harder, earning a muffled scream from her.

"You think I’m stupid? This place reeks of his lycan scent. He was here. The damn king was here." His voice was raised slightly as he mentioned the king.

Then he shoved her off the chair. She landed on a bed of flowers with a sickly thud, smashing their pretty petals into the ground. A groan escaped her as she heard her already broken arm twist. Her wrists were still purple from his bruises.

"Please, uncle..." She tried pleading, but he wasn’t done with her yet.

"You smell like him! He touched you! No one touches what’s mine!"

She tried praying, but no words would come. Her body trembled like a leaf in a storm. He crouched beside her, pulling her up.

Uncle Jarren turned her until she was forced to look at him. His face was twisted with hatred, his eyes dark.

"You are mine. I want you to say it."

She struggled against his grip, but to no avail.

"I said, say it." He snapped.

"I am..." The words wouldn’t form.

He smacked her so hard that it drew blood. She fell to the ground on impact. Her cheek stung. Claire clawed at the ground for anything she could hold. All she encountered was wet grass.

He stood up and leaned down to drag her up. He allowed him to lift her, being too weak to fight him. Blood pooled in her mouth. The metallic taste was foreign to her. No man had ever hit her before. Not while her father was alive. Not while Zach was with her. She sagged against him as he pulled her along.

One of his arms draped along her waist to support her weight. Tears streamed down her cheek. She could taste the sand that slipped into her mouth while she was sprawled on the ground.

If she had a wolf, people wouldn’t trample on her so easily. Why was all this happening to her? Why did fate turn its back on her? She shook violently as the tremor racked through her. His hand on her waist became tighter, his jaw hardening.

Her gown was wet, streaked with dirt almost everywhere. He led her through the back so no one would see her disheveled state.

Arlan and her maid were waiting by the carriage. Claire could still hear the cheers and the drumming from the mating ceremony. Life still went on, no matter what happened to her, she realized. Most of those people had dined with her father several times.

Arlan didn’t meet her gaze.

But the maid did. Something in her gaze softened.

Uncle Jarren guided her into the couch, then flanked her. The air changed from smelling like leather and lacquered wood to that of damp clothing and wet soil.

The whole ride was sizzling with tension. Seraphine sat still, her spine straighter than a plank. As they arrived at the house, the servants were waiting at the entrance. A glob of mud dripped from Claire’s gown as she alighted from the carriage. All eyes fell on her dress, and gasps tore through the little cloud.

Uncle Jarren held her arm, forcing her to stop.

"You are not wearing this dress inside my house." He murmured into her ear.

She froze. What did he want her to do? She slowly turned to him, her pulse quickened before he spoke.

"Take off the dress."

She gulped. "Here?"

He raised an eyebrow like she had asked the most stupid question in the world.

"Do it." He whispered in her ear, his teeth gritted.

She slipped her hand around her back to undo the dress. Her trembling hands shook, unable to grip the lace firmly. Seraphine rushed to help her, but her uncle stopped her.

"Let her do it." He said coldly.

The stable boys and porters stared, their eyes hungering for the sight of her skin.

She finally caught the lace strips and pulled them apart. The bodice loosened. Claire’s breath hitched. Did he have to do this to her?

He would regret this, she told herself.

She pulled the bodice down, slipping her hands out of the sleeves. Then she pushed it all the way to the ground. Cold air washed over her damp skin. Even the rain didn’t pity her. Claire stepped away from the dress, standing in her drenched cotton shift that left little to the imagination. Uncle Jarren snapped at a maid to pick up the dress as he guided her inside.

None of the servants met her gaze as she passed them. Her lips tightened. The hallway was lit with candles.

"I should have had you remove your shift as well. You’re dripping water everywhere." She sniffled.

Aurora sat at the end of the grand stairway, leaning against the railings. Her cute features were tight with her barely suppressed anger.

Don’t do anything stupid, Claire prayed inwardly.

"Why are you awake?" He snapped at the little girl.

Claire winced at his unfriendly tone. Aurora stood up.

"Leave my sister alone. She’s no longer marrying your son."

He burst into raucous laughter. A hiccup forced him to cease the mockery.

"And who do you think you are to decide that?"

Aurora stepped forward, her gaze fiery. "Her sister. Claire felt a sense of pride, but fear overrode it. They would only get into more trouble.

"No." Claire mouthed soundlessly.

Aurora ignored her. "You wouldn’t treat your son’s bride the way you’re treating my sister. We are leaving!"

Tears pooled in the little girl’s eyes.

His hands shot out and grabbed her by the neckline of her nightgown.

"Little girls keep their mouths shut."

Claire grabbed his hand and tried to pull it away to no avail.

His grip tightened until she could hear her sister choking.

"You’ll kill her! Stop, Uncle Jarren."

When he refused to yield, she glanced around for a weapon. The only thing she saw close enough was a lit candle. She plucked it out of its stand and slipped it into his clothes. She couldn’t risk her sister’s life.

He immediately released the girl as he battled with his smoking clothes. Claire didn’t care about the melted wax that stained her fingers. She ran to her sister. Aurora was barely breathing, her face pale. She cradled her sister’s head in her lap as their loud breaths mingled.

At such a time, she couldn’t scold Aurora for her bravery.

Uncle Jarren let out an animal-like scream as he tore his flaming shirt off. Servants rushed into the room.

"Water! Get water, you idiots!"

The smell of burning flesh and fabric filled the air.

She knew she was finished. He would kill her for what she had done. Yet, she felt no remorse whatsoever. Only that her sister would have to suffer along with her. Aurora’s neck was red with the bruises his fingers had left. Her pretty green eyes were dull and glassy as if the fight had left her. But Claire held on because she was still breathing, stroking her hair and whispering soothing words.

Servants arrived with pails of water and doused him with it. Water splashed on both girls as well.

Uncle Jarren was breathing so hard, his chest heaving furiously. His finger pointed at them as he struggled to catch his breath.

Claire’s gaze flicked over his naked chest. He had been forced to strip, same as her. To his servants, he said, "Take the little girl and lock her up."

Her hold on her sister tightened. The servants hesitated before approaching them.

"Leave her alone!"

She swatted some of their hands away. They pried Aurora out of her arms and carried her away.

Claire’s hands hung mid-air as she kept pleading for her sister. The cold floor bit into her knees, but she didn’t notice.

"You think you have audacity? There’s still plenty you don’t understand yet, my love." He leaned down and grabbed her chin, wincing due to the pain he must have been feeling.

"Because of it, you will never see your sister again."