Page 19 of His Lost Lycan Luna

I use the banister to help force my legs up the stairs for the hundredth time today. This is a joke. Maybe after a while, if he doesn't kill me for messing up, he will let me keep some supplies in my room. This will save me from walking up the steps every time I need a cloth or a broom or something. I can only hope.

The King opens the door before I can knock. My stomach twists with dread; this is it. There’s no doubt I’m about to be killed or hurt for my mistake.

He steps aside, and I keep my eyes on the floor when I move past him. I stand how Mrs. Daley taught us: hands behind my back, looking straight ahead. Everything burns and aches standing like this, yet I endure it. The King shuts the door and turns to me.

"Did Clarice give you your orders?" the King asks, walking around me. I briefly wonder if I will cop a cane or the whip.

"Yes, sir," I answer.

"So you chose to ignore chores and orders?" he asks.

I feel tears prick at the back of my eyes. I shake my head, and my lips part to explain, but quickly shut my mouth. I know it is my fault and I have no excuse good enough for not doing my tasks.

"You didn't answer," he states. I swallow. Am I allowed to argue back? "Well?" he demands. I chew my lip, and my fingers fiddle behind my back nervously.

"I fell asleep; it won't happen again," I stutter. King Kyson rubs his chin and jaw before he moves to his chaise and sits down. I watch as he places his elbows on his knees and leans forward.

"I have a strict schedule for a reason. My days are meticulously planned out. I can't have a servant who can't follow simple rules and stick to a simple timetable, do you understand?"

I nod. The King keeps staring at my face, which makes me nervous. I see his eyes narrow slightly at my split brow, but he says nothing. Why would he? I am a servant; he is the King. I should be grateful I am still standing and not thrown into a cell for my laziness.

"I understand," I tell him, chewing the inside of my lip when he sighs.

"You also forgot to clear the washing in the bathroom,” he says, wiping a hand down his face.

I nod, about to set to the task, but he waves me off when I try to head for the bathroom.

"Forget it; I already had Ester grab everything while you slept," he says, and I look down, embarrassed.

I am already in trouble, and Ester got her wish to be his servant again. Well, she can have the job; I don’t want it. I rather slave labor outdoors than feel like I’m walking on eggshells over every little thing while the King waits for me to slip up.

"You can leave," he says dismissively, and I quickly escape back to my room. I open my door to find a sandwich wrapped in cling wrap, as well as another maid's outfit and a small juice box.

Clarice must have snuck them to me. Relief floods me, and I sit on the bed peeling my new flats off. My heels are bleeding and I need to shower, but even that task feels impossible.

Giving myself a sniff, to my surprise, I smell clean, thanks to all the cleaning products. I settle on my bed, careful of my back, and pick up the sandwich and unwrap it. It feels like so much effort as I force myself to chew and swallow.

I feel exhausted but starving. Why did I have to be the king's servant? I know this will be the loneliest job in the castle, and what is up with his erratic behavior: so hot one moment and cold the next? One second, he almost seems kind, like he forgets he is speaking to a lowly rogue. The next moment, he looks at me like he wants to kill me.

ChapterThirteen

KYSON

I can’t help but feel annoyed as I watch Ivy leave the room. What an idiot I am for tossing Ester to the curb when Ivy clearly doesn’t know what she’s doing. She might know how to clean, sure, but she doesn’t understand what it takes to tend to an actual person. Ester was always on time, and she knew what I expected. Maybe I am being harsh. It is clear that the girl is terrified of me, and yes, I am aware that I can be an overbearing prick at times, so I should have known better than to throw her into a position she has never served in before. Maybe I should have asked Ester to train her…

But the thought of her being in someone else's chamber or with the male workers irks me. I am unsure why it bothers me so much. She’s just a rogue girl, yet the pull I feel toward her has affected my choices and all day I have been distracted at work. My mind is constantly wandering back to her.

Even now my mind wanders back to her as I sit here reading – wondering if the deep lashings on her back were inflicted by that woman in the orphanage.

I can't believe Alpha Dean would allow such treatment of such a young girl, even a rogue. She is still his responsibility since she lives in his pack. Maybe that is why she couldn't perform her duties; perhaps she was in pain? Or perhaps I am insane for allowing a rogue girl I know nothing about to be my personal servant when she evidently has no experience.

I shake my head, trying to get my thoughts away from the girl sleeping in the room across from me. This is easier said than done. Everything in me screams for her to be close, my fingers itching to touch her. I want to feel her skin on mine, feel her curves against me, and to explore every inch of her body with my hands and my lips. I want to taste her. Feel her heart beating against mine. Listen to her moan with pleasure. I crave her in ways I shouldn't; ways that would be entirely inappropriate given our positions.

The urge to have her by my side dominates my mind. My body is here, yet my mind is with her, my thoughts utterly consumed by my rogue servant.

Could she be my mate? My other half and part of my soul, like Damian believes she is? Lycans rarely find their mates. We have immortal lifespans, so you would think that would make it easier to find our mates, but no.

Lycans are supposed to be mated to other Lycans. Apparently, our species is adapting these days, and now we are finding our mates in common werewolves–evolution at its finest. But for royalty to find a mate in a common werewolf is unheard of.

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