Page 49 of His Lost Lycan Luna

"Do you still want to come to the castle with me?"

"I want to sleep," I mumble, suppressing a yawn. He hums, brushing his nose across my shoulder.

"I loved your scent before, but I love the smell of your arousal better," he says, nipping at my neck and then sucking that one spot he seems to graze with his teeth constantly.

"How far is it?” I yawn sleepily. He chuckles, running the loofa over my breasts.

"A couple of days’ drive. We will stop on the way, but you need to promise not to leave my side," he whispers.

I nod. I think I probably would have agreed to anything he said right now.

"That's my girl.” He grabs a small jug and dips it in the water before tipping it over my chest and shoulders to remove the soap.

The King then pulls the plug out of the bath, letting the water drain out. Gripping his knees for support, I stand, completely forgetting I'm naked and no longer covered by foamy water.

As soon as I realize it, I try to cover myself by keeping my back to him when I feel a towel draped over my shoulders. I pull it closed before turning around and facing him. He has a towel wrapped around his waist. My eyes trail over his muscular body.

His abs look hand-carved to perfection and ripple with each movement he makes. His tanned skin glistens under water the droplets, and I step closer and then stop, shaking my head as the need to touch him almost overwhelms me. He laughs softly, closing the distance and wrapping his arms around me. My nose presses against his chest, and I breathe in deeply as his scent invades my senses.

“We should get dressed if you still want to leave today,” he whispers.

"I don't think I should be going with you. What would people think?” I ask, worried.

"I won't be leaving if you stay here," the King says, with finality in his tone. "I won't leave you here by yourself."

My brows pinch, and I chew my bottom lip. I can’t help but wonder how long this will last, how long before the King tosses me aside when he realizes he is fooling around with his servant… someone unworthy of royalty.

What if we go, and he gets sick of me and casts me out? At least here I have Abbie; I would have no one out there. The thought of leaving her sickens me, and so does the thought of being without her.

The King leads me back to his bedroom. "Get dressed," he says, pointing to a neat pile of clothes at the end of the bed.

I walk over to inspect the clothes. They’re not my servant's uniform. Surely, he doesn’t want me to wear regular clothes? Who even brought these up here? As I turn to look at the king, I see him rummaging through his wardrobe before pulling out jeans and a T-shirt.

"My uniform?"

"You won't be wearing it anymore," he says, coming back over to me. I shake my head when he grips my chin between his fingers. "I don't want you to be my servant anymore."

"But I am, My..." His eyes harden to steel at my words, and I swallow.

"But I am, Kyson,” I murmur, swallowing down the urge to use his title.

"No, you are so much more than that, Ivy."

I shake my head in disbelief, and he kisses the side of my mouth.

"Put the clothes on, Ivy," he whispers, letting me go. I glance at them, scratching my arm nervously. "Do I need to dress you?"

I shake my head.

"Get dressed, or I will dress you," he warns.

"But servants wear dresses, tunics..."

"I just told you that I don't want you as my servant," he says, his voice growing more frustrated.

But what else was I supposed to be? That's all I know. Rogues are always slaves or servants, which is all they can and should be. We aren't supposed to be pampered and treated nicely. We aren't good enough to be seen as people. His treatment of Abbie and me is absurd, and I know everyone will think the same.

Same as I know he will realize his mistake, eventually.

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