Page 31 of His Lost Lycan Luna

"Shh, Ivy, I can't see you," he whispers, and I stiffen at his closeness, feeling the heat radiating off his chest and seeping into my skin. His nose skims along my shoulder to the back of my ear; his hand on my stomach pulls me closer to him.

"I love your scent," he whispers, and tingles wash over me everywhere. He suddenly clears his throat, pulling his face away from me. "Sorry, I didn't mean to… you just smell nice," he states.

"It's fine, sir," I tell him, somewhat startled that he admitted to sniffing me and thinks I smell nice. Most rogues smell awful to pack wolves. Then again, he is a Lycan, so who knows?

"Kyson," he murmurs.

"Pardon me, sir?"

"My name. It is Kyson. I'd prefer you to use my name. Say it, Ivy," he whispers behind me. I shake my head at his words, looking toward the door.

"You can say my name, Ivy; I won't let anyone punish you for using my name," he whispers, sliding my bra straps down my arms and away from my body. He places it beside him.

"Say my name Ivy," he whispers once more, and I shiver when his breath skates across my neck. His fingers trail along my sides, but he avoids touching my saw ribs; instead, he grips my wrists and pulls my arms apart that cover me. He places my hands on his knees, and I breathe out shakily. "You don't need to fear me, Ivy." I peer at him over my shoulder to find his lips only a breath away.

He stares at me with fiery intensity, and I feel my heart pounding in my chest. I close my eyes, knowing I am powerless against him. His lips move closer to mine, and I quiver in anticipation of what he'll do. "If anyone needs to fear anyone around here, it is me that should fear you," he purrs, and my brows pinch in confusion. I open my eyes to see him press his lips on my shoulder.

He then pulls a shirt over my head.

It's the black shirt he retrieved from the dresser. His fingertips graze the sides of my breasts as I push my arms through the holes. The shirt falls to my hips. Yet his hands inside the shirt don't move. Instead, he brushes his thumbs across the sides of my breasts, making me shiver. I look down at it before pinching the front of the shirt and sniffing it, his scent making my mouth water.

"Do I smell alright?" he asks with a soft laugh, and his hands fall to my thighs.

"Yes, like vanilla and berries," I tell him before slapping a hand over my mouth for what I embarrassingly blurted out.

He laughs softly, his fingers fiddling with my ponytail. He gently removes my hair tie.

The King leans forward, his hand holding my hair aside as he inhales my scent, his breath skimming over my flesh as he speaks. “Don’t be embarrassed, Ivy. You smell just as delicious to me, good enough to eat,” he chuckles before sitting back and letting my hair fall. My hair falls to my waist, and he runs his fingers through it. I shiver at the feel of his fingers on my scalp.

"You still haven't said it yet," he says.

"Said what?" Having lost my train of thought, the only thing I can focus on is breathing as he uses his fingers to untangle my hair.

"My name," he says, and I shake my head. "I will get you to say it, eventually." He almost seems to be taunting me, his tone playful.

There is a knock on the door. I try to get up when he pulls me back down, his hand moving under his shirt, his thumb rubbing my belly.

"Come in, Damian," he says, and my heart beats erratically. Beta Damian walks in with a tray of food and a glass filled with ice cubes.

"Where do you want it, Kyson?" he asks.

"Just leave it there," the King says behind me, and my face heats up when King Kyson presses his face into my neck again. His Beta never looks in our direction, like he expected me to be half-undressed here and practically sitting on his King's lap.

How many servants has he found in this position, I wonder? Surely this isn't normal behavior, or maybe it is. Is this why Ester hates me?

"Anything else?" Beta Damian asks him.

"No, that is all. I will mindlink you if I need anything," the King says. I see his Beta nod; he walks out and shuts the door.

"Relax, Ivy," the King tells me, but I find that nearly impossible. I know if I anger him in some way, he can tell the guards to kill me, and they would without hesitation. How does he not see that being in his presence is intimidating? He climbs off the bed and retrieves the tray before pouring whiskey into a glass.

"Have you drank alcohol before?" he asks, and I shake my head.

He hands me the glass, and I sniff it. "I won't tell if you don't, but it will help with the pain," he says, pointing to my ribs. I sip it and nearly spit it back into the glass. He chuckles and pours the ice from the other cup into my glass.

"There, I watered it down a bit," he says, pouring himself a glass. I sniff it again and shake my head, trying to pass it back to him. But he adds more whiskey to the glass, half filling it.

"Drink it," he orders, and I am unable to help myself. I bring the glass to my lips. He watches me over the rim of his glass, and I cough when I finish drinking it all in one go.

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