The Lycan King's Puppet-Chapter 90: Mark Her

The soft pressure of her lips beneath his was maddening.

She was responding to his every touch, meeting him with a fire that matched his.

Was this really happening?

They moved together until she backed against the wall.

Her hands ran over his chest, his face, his hair. He could feel their warmth through the fabric of his clothes.

No one would interrupt them this time. He had taken extra care to make sure of that.

Whatever would happen would happen.

No Andon. No blasted inkwell. No guards. No blood moon. No maids. No promiscuous uncle. No bride-to-be. No one would disturb him.

She tasted like fruit sauce and cheese... and something uniquely hers. The warm and welcoming velvet of her mouth made his pulse run wild. Her breathing was ragged. Her heartbeat was galloping in her chest - he could feel it as he pressed her against the wall.

Yeren reached down and lifted her up, pinning her such that they were on the same level.

She wrapped her legs around him, covering him with the thick hems of her dress.

He drifted from her mouth, kissing the corners down to her luscious neck.

Unable to abide it any longer, Yeren ripped off the chain and threw it as far away as he could.

He would look for it later, he told himself.

The only response she made was a slight whimper. No protest. Nothing.

She gasped as his cool lips grazed her neck.

There was so much he wanted to do to her...

So many things he wanted her to feel...

So little time...

She tightened her hips around him, squirming to cover the space between their bodies.

Her eyes drifted closed, her lashes framing them like black silk.

He needed to see her. All of her. Yeren hadn’t seen enough to fully appreciate her beauty the first time this had nearly happened.

He gripped the sleeves of her dress in preparation to rip them off.

Her eyes opened as she realized his intention. She placed a gentle hand on his arm to stop him.

Yeren could feel his Lycan warring to emerge - to mark her as theirs.

He couldn’t. She wasn’t his to have.

Claire wiggled and slid to the floor, wasting no time as she clumsily started undoing the clasps and laces on her dress. As each clasp came undone, the chemise she wore underneath became visible.

Transparent silk?

Had she been wearing something as alluring as this the last time?

Where was she getting them from? Was this all to catch his attention?

"Why else would she be wearing it?" A wicked voice in his head said.

Yeren resisted the urge to whistle as she tugged the final lace strap loose. She pushed the dress down and the garment heaped around her feet.

He took a step back to admire the way the seductive undergown framed her curves and left very little to the imagination.

She turned pink, then red, trying to shield her peaking breasts with her hands.

He didn’t stop her, neither did he peel her hands away. She looked even more beautiful when she was embarrassed.

He felt like he could keep staring at her all day. Or... all night.

Words wouldn’t form as he thought of the best thing to ease her timidity.

Instead, he reached out a hand.

She accepted his hand hesitantly, her arms falling away from her breasts.

It was clearly her first time. A swell of pride rose in his chest knowing that no other man had claimed her as his. Not even her vile uncle.

But was he doing the right thing?

He wasn’t going to marry her afterward. Taking her virginity would spoil her chances of being married to another man.

But the thought of another man having it was enough to drive him mad.

Yeren bent down and picked her up in his arms. She held herself stiffly, unable to stop the heavy colour that crept up her porcelain cheeks.

At some point, the pins in her hair had fallen off.

They’d have to look for it after, he told himself. Her hair fanned the bed, the striking Auburn shade a bold contrast to the white sheets.

He leaned down to kiss her, pressing a knee between her thighs. His palm explored the expanse of her flat abdomen, spanning her small waist as he saw fit.

She was his - it still didn’t sink in, even if it was just for a single night.

A single night might cure him of his daydreams and erotic fantasies about her, though he highly doubted it.

She jerked every time he touched her, her skin rippling beneath his touch.

The hem of her chemise rose up, exposing her knees and creamy thighs to his view.

Yeren returned his attention back to her face.

She was watching him beneath the hood of her lashes. Her eyes were pools of dark green, dilated with desire.

"I want you."

Just three words. But they were enough to break through his concrete defenses.

His eyes fell to her lips, waiting to see if she would say it again.

Was she drunk... or was it genuine?

If she kept looking at him that way... he would make sure that she spent every single night in his room.

"Are you sure, Miss... Claire?"

Her hand reached out and caressed his face ever so gently.

"For once in my life, I know what I want."

It wasn’t a declaration of love, but he understood her perfectly.

Refusing to be overwhelmed by maudlin feelings, he covered her mouth with his. She tasted even better than the first time.

He reached beneath her to cradle her head. Suddenly, his claws were extruded.

No, no, no.

She still lay there, unaware of what was happening. The trust in her eyes snapped something inside him.

The claws in his other hand were extruded as well.

"Mark her." His Lycan said.

He couldn’t.

Yeren’s pupils dilated. He was losing control.

He wasn’t afraid his Lycan would hurt her.

But... she was as good as dead if she left this room with his mark on her neck.