Page 14 of Lycan King's Claim
"What did she say?" he asks, and I freeze, wondering if my mind is playing tricks on me.
Glancing at him, I see him smiling. "You spoke right? I didn't imagine it?" I ask.
"Yes, what did Adina say?" he asks, and my eyes widen before I crash against him, wrapping my arms around him. He chuckles, kissing the top of my head. "I missed talking to you, too," he tells me and I step away. "He lifted the command," I gasp, surprised.
"He did, just don't piss him off. I am a guard not a mime," he tells me, and I snort.
"So, Adina?" he asks.
"She told me the wedding would be pushed back if I challenged for Xandros's hand," I tell him nervously.
"Xandros wouldn't allow it; he's angry, he's not going to allow you to fight for his hand, it would be suicide." I sigh and he continues. "But you're right it is strange she said that," he says thoughtfully.
"And If I did, what would happen?"
"Hypothetically, if you did, you'd have to officially file with the Council online."
Javier's voice breaks through the silence, laden with both caution and explanation.
"The Council would gather, an arena would need to be made of course," he reveals. "Only through the death of one combatant would victory be claimed and Xandros's hand won. Should you emerge triumphant, the union between Carina and Xandros would be void." Javier's tone carries a firm warning.
“But, Sienna, that path holds nothing but the cruel embrace of death. It is a futile endeavor, not worth the risk. Carina is God only knows how old, and if you've never trained in your Lycan form, you wouldn't stand a chance." His voice falters, his concern etched upon his face.
"So you think she was telling me this hoping I would challenge and let her kill me?" I ask Javier. He presses his lips in a line for a second, seeming to think. "No, I don't think that's it. I think it is more for Xandros."
"What do you mean?"
Javier points to me.
"You really need me to explain?" He sighs loudly. "If you don't know, I shouldn't be telling you, but Xandros isn't stable right now, he's been losing control."
"What do you mean?"
Javier shrugs. "I can't tell you anymore, not without putting both of us at risk, just try not to get on his bad side." he tells me before looking at his watch. "I need to go grab your dinner," he tells me, I assume using it as an escape, so he isn't forced to endure the never-ending questions now playing on my mind.
As the night comes and the temperature plummets, a different visitor arrives, shattering the fragile peace that surrounds me as I lay in front of the fire, rolled in my blanket trying to keep warm.
Xandros materializes before me, his foot nudging me awake. Rubbing my eyes, I glance up at him, his presence commanding and laced with an unsettling blend of detachment and torment.
The bond between us trembles with a yearning desire, urging me to reach out to him, but his eyes refuse to meet mine. He leans down, his grip tight and unforgiving as he seizes my wrist, thrusting me toward the bed. The air thickens with unspoken anguish as he commands, "Undress." His words lash out, a venomous sting that pierces my very soul.
"Xandros?" I whisper, a plea for understanding, my hand outstretched toward him. His retort cuts through the fragile thread of hope, his voice dripping with acidic bitterness. "It is not me who craves your bond. Do not confuse its desires with my own. Now, remove your clothes," his words slice through me like a jagged blade, leaving me wounded and breathless. "Now!" he orders, and my hands shake as I do as I am told, Javier's words replaying in my head.
"Get on the bed," he tells me, and I nod climbing up on it only for him to follow, he grips my hips, dragging me closer only to undo his belt. He doesn't even look at me, like he can't bear to.
It becomes a transaction devoid of love, devoid of any semblance of tenderness. His eyes barely graze my presence, his touch reduced to a mere mechanical action. However, beneath the façade of indifference, a mounting frustration gnaws at him as he fails to find release.
Rolling onto his back, he pulls me on top of him, his hands seizing my breasts with an almost detached fondness. Gripping my hips with an unyielding force, he drives me down onto his cock. I scream out in agony, clutching my tortured stomach, and he halts his movements abruptly at the tortured sound that leaves me, almost as if it has snapped him out of whatever emotionless haze he is in.
Tears cascade down my cheeks, my sobs echoing through the suffocating room, I try to climb off him, when he grabs my hips sitting up. "What? Why are you crying now?" he demands, and fury burns through me. How could he ask that? How could he not know?
In a moment of uncontrollable fury, I lash out, striking him. He captures my wrists, imprisoning me against the cold embrace of the mattress as he pins me down. His voice rises in a desperate demand, a wounded plea for comprehension. I struggle against him, unable to comprehend how he remains blind to the pain he inflicts upon me. My stomach twists in agony, my inside feeling chaffed and rubbed raw.
"I am dry, devoid of desire, and yet you expect me to perform, thrusting into me like I don't feel fucking pain, then impaling me!" How does he not see the agony of what he's doing to me? "Just get off me!" I scream, my voice raw and filled with a rage of shattered emotions. "You said it yourself, you don't want me, you can’t even fucking look at me, now get off me!"
"What did you expect? I caught you with another fucking man!” he bellows, the force of his words reverberating through the room. "You betrayed me," he growls, his hands tightening on my wrist. "You forget how you betrayed me first," I whisper, and he scoffs. "I never fucked her, nor would I. I only wanted you."
"Yet you chose her," I tell him.
