Page 13 of His Lost Lycan Luna

“Do I need to come over and undress you?” he asks, clearly running out of patience. Clarice glances at him nervously, then waves at me to hurry. I shake my head, quickly poking the buttons through the holes as I try to turn away from him to shield myself. My bra is so thin it is almost see-through, and my breathing is heavy as panic sets in.

“This is taking too long,” the King snaps, storming over to me and appearing behind me. He grips my blouse and yanks it off me. I shriek in pain at the tearing fabric and also out of fear. I quickly cover myself with my hands when the King inhales a sharp breath. He growls low and deep in the back of his throat. The sound is menacing and threatening.

The deep, rough sound causes goosebumps across my entire body. My entire body sways under his aura, and Clarice looks like she is about to faint at the King’s actions when he touches me. A filthy rogue. Or is she genuinely worried about me? Either way, she steps in quickly to distract the King, for which I am thankful.

“Sir, I can do that,” I hear her say when I suddenly feel his fingers run down my back, over my scar-ravaged skin, and over the bandage wrapped around my torso and lower back where the newest wounds lie.

His fingers brush over the markings that the bandages can’t cover entirely–they are too high up my back. Abbie wrapped them around my body as best she could. The bandages are so tight it is a little hard to breathe. Frozen with my fear, my face heats as blood rushes to it. I am mortified.

“Turn around,” he says. His voice is suddenly softer. However, I shake my head, embarrassed by the situation I am in. I have never been naked in front of anyone except Abbie and Mrs. Daley. It wasn’t enough to remove my blouse. Now he wants me to face him?

His hands fall on my shaking shoulders, and his breath sweeps across my neck. “Please turn around, Ivy,” he whispers, turning me slowly. I clench my eyes shut, not wanting to see the disgust on his face when his hand cups my cheek, wiping a stray tear.

I’m used to people shuddering at the sight of a rogue, but for unknown reasons, I can't handle seeing that disgust on him. I curse myself for letting tears fall, knowing the punishment for such a transgression is usually the most horrific of them all.

Mrs. Daley could be unforgiving if we shed a tear— telling us tears wouldn’t help us— she was right. They never did. They always made our punishments harsher when she would beat us for them.

“Put your arms down.”

“Please, sir, my bra is see-through,” I whisper, still refusing to open my eyes, hugging myself tighter. Suddenly, I feel his chest brush my hands. His hands slide up my arms, and my eyes fly open at his touch. He leans down, his stubble brushing my cheek.

“Use your hands; I just need your arms out of the way,” he whispers, and I nod as his hands slide down my arms to grip my wrists, moving them so I cup my breasts with my hands.

I watch him fiddling with the bandages, his eyes moving to mine when he catches me watching him warily. "I won't hurt you," he murmurs, then unwraps them. My entire body trembles when I hear the door to the room Abbie was in open. Her gasp is clearly audible throughout the room.

My head turns at the noise, and she rushes forward, drops to her knees, and begs for me at his feet. “Please, she didn’t mean it! She will be good! It startled her! I will take her punishment; just leave her be. Please, I beg you!” Abbie sobs.

The King stops, looking down at her like he thinks she is absurd.

“What are you talking about?" he asks her. When she doesn't answer, he looks at Clarice.

"Who is punishing whom?” he snaps at her, and she and the King look at me in unison.

His face is so close my breath lodges in my throat. My face heats as I stare at his silver eyes, framed by thick dark lashes, stubble creating shadows across his face, and full lips. He is gorgeous despite my fears.

“What is she talking about?” he demands, using his Alpha aura just enough not to cause me pain, yet I feel the tingle of his authority roll over me. I feel like bearing my neck to him so he doesn't think I am being deliberately defiant; I just don't know what he is asking or why.

“She said she would take the punishment, but it’s fine, Abbie. You did nothing wrong,” I tell her, and Abbie shakes her head.

“Why would I punish her?” he asks Abbie, looking genuinely confused.

“Because she cried out. She didn’t mean it, I swear. We know not to make noise; she just didn’t know the Beta would touch her back. Please,” Abbie begs.

The King rubs his temples, looking frustrated and exhausted suddenly.

“Clarice, can you please explain what they are talking about?” he asks, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut tight.

“I think they are referring to being punished for reacting to pain?” Clarice says, looking at us, and Abbie nods to her.

He blinks like he is confused, and I look at Abbie, just as confused by his question. The King finally shakes his head and lets out a breath. Without saying a word, he peels off the bandages. When they fall away, he asks me to turn.

I do as he asks and brace myself for the lashings I know will come. Clarice gasps. Abbie whimpers, her fingers brushing my ankle as a reminder she is here with me.

“Who did this?” the King demands. I glance down at Abbie, who stares up at me from the floor with fear on her face.

"Rather than looking at each other, answer me—one of you now!” the King orders.

“Mrs. Daley,” we both say in unison.

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