The Lycan King's Puppet-Chapter 85: Take her

The sight of her - red-faced and covered in flour made something in him go wild.

Andon was right - they might end up with an unwanted child if he wasn’t careful. And that went against everything he had promised her.

He couldn’t destroy her future a second time - because it clearly wasn’t with him. But he also couldn’t resist holding her close.

"I already know the difference. Touches don’t mean anything, but a child does."

She met his gaze without flinching as she spoke her nonsense.

"Touches don’t mean anything, you say?" He ran his hand over her palm.

"Stop. Whatever this is," She gestured around, "cannot continue, Your Grace. There are plenty of whores who will sell their favours and much more for a night with you. I, unfortunately, have a lot more dignity."

He nodded.

"If you had more dignity than a whore, you should have slapped me by now."

Her lips thinned.

"Why would I raise my hand on the King?"

"Any well-mannered lady would. So, drop the act."

"Are you saying it’s ill-mannered to crave a man’s touch? Only whores are allowed to have such fantasies?" She covered her mouth immediately she realized what she just said aloud.

The King’s eyes were wide. Very wide.

"What fantasies do you have, Miss Stenly? Are they about me?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Over my dead body."

"Then whose touch do you crave?"

The thought of her thinking about another man was life-threatening at best.

"You don’t have to know."

In an instant, he lifted her and placed her on the table, reversing their positions.

"What are you doing?"

"Something we will both regret."

"Then don’t do it."

"I have plenty of wine in store for such days."

He spread her legs on the table, moving to stand between them.

"Whose touch are you craving now?"

"No one’s." She arched her head back to look up at him.

"Don’t do that."

"Do what?"

"Exposing your neck to me is the most basic form of invitation you can offer."

She didn’t lower her head.

"The only form of invitation I recognize is that of marriage."

He chuckled.

"Marriage hates me. And I hate it as well."

She stiffened in his arms.

"I just realised that it is my duty to remind you that you are as good as married." She tried to stand up.

He held her in place.

"And if I marry you instead?"

"You made it very clear how unlikely that would be."

He twisted his lips. "And if circumstances were not against us, would you have agreed to marry me?"

She arched again to look up at him.

The neck again...

The sight of her flawless skin made him throb in places that needn’t be mentioned.

"The answer to that is as clear as night and day. I would never agree to marry you."

"Even if your father was still alive?"

She tilted her head.

The curve of her breasts were visible through the cleavage.

"No."

He placed both hands on the table on either side of her, locking her in.

"Give me an unrefutable answer."

"Because, if none of this happened, I would have been married to Aldrich, and you would have never known I existed."

He stared down at the glinting chain on her neck.

"You seem to fancy Lord Bronan’s son very much."

"We grew up together."

"And thus, you crave his touch?"

Claire let out a strangled cough.

"You mistake familiarity for love, Your Grace."

He licked his lips. "Is it your late father’s steward, then?"

"You mean Zach? No one calls him that these days."

Zach.

"You crave his touch?" He watched her lips for her response.

"He kisses like a poet and holds me like a devoted worshipper." She gave him a very charming smile.

"I doubt that. He’s too green to have such expertise."

Claire laughed.

"And you have expertise?"

He slid a hand up her thigh. She looked down at his hand, shivering slightly.

"Only with very desirable women."

"I wasn’t referring to Zach."

The words hung in the air between them.

Who then was she referring to?

"I don’t believe you need my services any longer, Your Grace." She glanced at the door.

"As a matter of fact," He pushed her backwards until she was propping herself on her elbows. "I still have a point to prove."

"You’re wasting your efforts on me. Your Lady wife-to-be should be in this position, not me."

"Leave then."

She rose up to a sitting position and arranged the bodice of her dress.

"Curiosity killed the cat, they say, but I’m dying a little each day because of overwhelming curiosity."

"Curiosity about what?"

"About what could happen if nothing interrupted us."

Was it really her that was speaking to him?

"Do you really want to know?"

"No. I prefer to be left to my fantasies. It would help me die earlier."

She stood in front of him, their bodies touching.

The flour on her dress was rubbing off on his cloak.

"And what about your sister?"

She pinched her nose.

"She will live long enough to understand that my life had long since ended. I only live for her, she’s everything to me."

He didn’t need to be told that she was telling the truth.

"Are you sure there’s nothing else worth living for apart from your sister?"

"And what would that be? A seat at the council? A man to call my husband? A place in society? A son to care for? I’ve longed for those things - but it is clear to me that life is not fair to everyone. I am still young, my story hasn’t ended, but I’ve learnt to stop hoping for things."

"Kings don’t hope. We follow set patterns till we die."

"And what happens if you break the pattern?"

He leaned closer, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He could feel el her pulse spike, the tremor in her body.

"I want to take you right now, Miss Stenly."