Page 43 of His Lost Lycan Luna

"She can, but I would rather it be just us. I want to spend time with you. Although, if you would be more comfortable with her coming, I can arrange it," he says.

"Why?" I blurt like an idiot. It makes no sense as to why he would want to spend time with his servant. It is odd. The King smiles. I don't think I have seen him smile as much as I have tonight. Yet I find that I like it when he does.

"So you can speak your mind... and you now you ask the right questions," he chuckles, his hands landing on my thighs.

He runs his hands up to the apex of my legs, and it hits me–I glance down at my naked legs. Shame washes over me. Where did my pants go? I tug, trying to get my oversized shirt down, when I realize it is one of his.

"My King?" I ask, tugging at the neckline of the shirt I am wearing.

"Mmm?" he asks, his eyes on his hands as he pushes the hemline of his shirt higher, revealing my cotton panties beneath it. "I changed your clothes; I prefer it when you smell like me," he tells me, answering the question I needed to know but couldn't bring myself to ask. His words make me swallow.

"They didn't see you; I made them turn around," he murmurs, yet his eyes still watch his hands as they slide up to my hips. His thumbs brush over my panties, and he inhales deeply.

"I don't want you sleeping in that room anymore. You will remain with me. I will have your things brought in here tomorrow when we are gone."

My brain buzzes, yet I am still stuck on the question of why.

His eyes dart to mine. "You want to know why? It must be confusing."

I nod my head.

"I have never wanted someone the way I have wanted you, and I won't get much sleep with you so far away. I want you close," he says, looking up at me.

"But sir, I am your slave," I speak slowly, hoping my words will sink in and make him see reason, or at least clarify what he wants with me.

"And I am the King. No one would dare question my intentions, Ivy."

"What are your intentions?” I whisper.

"What do you think they are?" he asks in return.

Well, if I knew, I wouldn't be asking, I think dryly.

"Speak freely, Ivy. You are safe with me."

I briefly wonder if I should say it, yet he keeps telling me I can ask, and the burning desire to know is bothering me. What’s the worst he could do, kill me? At least I would die knowing.

"Do you have a rogue fetish?" I ask. His eyebrows raise and he appears to be shocked by my words.

His lips tug up into a grin before he laughs. His whole body moves beneath me like he can’t contain his laughter at what I asked.

"No, I don't have a rogue fetish, Ivy. I also don't eat people; I am not trying to have sex with you, though I wouldn't say no if you wanted to, and I don't want you to be my slave anymore. Does that clear up any of your odd questions, or are there more?" he chuckles again. The blood rushes to my face when he speaks again.

"And what is a rogue fetish? Where did you hear that?" he asks, his eyes narrowing in a playful way. My face heats up more at his question. I didn't think I would have to explain it to him. Shouldn't he know?

"Um, at the orphanage..."

"At the orphanage? By whom?" he asks, his facial expression suddenly turning serious.

"The gardener... Abbie and I overheard him saying he had a fetish for rogues. He liked that he could do what he wanted to them, and no one would care. He hoped we would be sold so he could buy us and said we were more obedient than other girls."

"He said that in front of you both?"

"No, we weren’t supposed to be listening." I scratch my neck and try to climb off him, but his hands move to my thighs, holding me in place.

"When? Just before I saw you?" he asks.

I shake my head. "No, when I was twelve. We didn’t understand what he meant… not until Abbie asked Katrina."

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