Page 54 of Lycan King's Captives
I survey the room, taking in its deserted state, then fix my gaze on her. “I heard you,” I tell her, and her body tenses further. The fire crackles low in the grate and her eyes reflect the glow of the orange dying flames. Her hands twist in each other, the tension evident in the way she moves.
The room is empty. There is no one here, and yet I know she was speaking with someone. I still peer around. The light from the fireplace illuminates the room in a soft, warm light. It hides the secrets of the room, casting each piece of furniture in shadow. The room is strewn with both Sienna and my clothes from last night that I left here after I got changed; I can tell she hasn’t bothered to tidy up.
“I was talking to myself, Xandros. As you can see, no one is here,” she rushes out, moving away from me toward the dresser. I follow her, the scent of her fear, her nervousness, filling my senses. I corner her against the dresser, my chest pressed against her back. As I inhale her scent, desire coils within me. It is an intoxicating blend of her fear and my arousal, mingling together, becoming mouthwatering.
“You wouldn’t be lying to me, now, would you, Sienna?” I purr into her ear.
She laughs nervously, a false brightness in her voice as she pushes me away. I don’t budge. Her hands ball into fists, and she takes a step away from me, only to bump into the dresser, there is nowhere she can move from me, her eyes dart from my face to the windows and back again.
I step toward her, her body a magnet for my hands. I stroke her arms, gently coaxing her to relax. “Who were you speaking to?” I ask again, my eyes watching her face. “No one,” she breathes, shoving and moving toward the bathroom. I watch her disappear, not liking her behavior; it seems off.
Alone, I pour myself a drink, my mind mulling over her odd behavior. My eyes catch the sight of a misplaced phone, a piece of paper peeking from beneath a mug. Glancing at the bathroom door, I hear the shower turn on before I retrieve it. It is a phone number, one I don’t recognize. A twinge of anger hits me as I pull my phone from my pocket and snap a picture of it. My suspicions were clearly not misplaced.
Entering the bathroom, I am wanting to confront her when I’m immediately hit with the sight of Sienna’s naked form in the shower, the steam from the hot water wrapping around her like a misty veil. Her scent grows stronger in the humid room, instantly making me forget my anger as my cock twitches in my pants at the sight of her.
“What time do you leave tomorrow?” she asks, her voice too casual. The steam from the hot water makes her skin glisten, the droplets sluicing down the slopes of her breasts and hips, her eyes closed as she runs her hands through her hair. Her legs spread just enough for my eyes to see her beautiful pussy.
I watch her as I undress, and she peers over at me when I don’t answer, her eyes trailing over my body. “One of the maids will bring you a TV tomorrow. It will help keep you distracted until I return,” I inform her as I unbutton my trousers. I let them fall to the floor, loving the way her gaze follows. Her tongue darts out, scraping the bottom of her pouty lips. She is sin—my sin. Opening the shower door, I step into the shower, and she quickly moves, allowing more room “I’m also having some of my clothes brought here. My scent will help lessen the pain of our separation.”
“Will it hurt?” Her voice is barely a whisper.
“I’m trying to make sure it doesn’t. Javier will stay here with you, and if it becomes too much, he’ll call me, and I’ll find an excuse to come back,” I assure her. She just nods, still facing away from me.
“Does Carina know you’re here?” Her question catches me off guard, but I regain my composure quickly. “Yes, she’s aware, and she understands,” I respond, leaving out the part about how reluctant Carina had been about me intending to spend the night with her.
Silence fills the room as I turn her to face me, pressing her against the shower wall.
The water running down her body and her hair make her glow before my eyes.
Her gaze is what I love most, though. It’s on me, in me, a violent storm of whirling violent lust. Her pupils are blown, her body quivers and her lips part. She can hate me all she wants, she won’t ever deny me, not because I won’t let her, and I know she can’t.
Despite the scar my mother gave her, the one I want to desperately heal her of, she is as beautiful as the night I first spotted her. Her small frame trapped by my larger one with her hair hanging in loose wet curls, her eyes the color of the stormiest night.
My hands trail up her side, barely touching and despite the heat in the room from the shower, goosebumps cover her skin at my touch, her nipples hardening as my hand cups it, my thumb brushing over its hardened peak.
“You have me now, Sienna, so take what you want. As much as you want. I’m spending the night here tonight,” I tell her, my voice rough as I fight the urge to fuck her against the shower wall. I want her, crave her, and need her just like I need air. The things I want to do to her drive me crazy. Her scent engulfs me, rolling over my senses like viscous honey, coating my skin and warming it.
“I don’t want anything from you, Xandros. I just want my freedom,” she retorts.
I lock eyes with her, “Your freedom I also own, Sienna. Just as I own you. I’m here now, use me to stifle your bond, or don’t. We both know you will. So stop fighting it.”
30
Xandros’s words ricochet through my mind, an unnerving echo of truth. The bond between us is like a twisting knife, cutting deeper with each passing day. I wish he would use his calling, use the bond to force my compliance—it would be easier to despise him that way. Instead, he is gentle, a stark contrast to the cruel man I know him to be.
His powerful gaze is locked onto mine as he says, “Your freedom I also own, Sienna. Just as I own you. I’m here now, use me to stifle your bond, or don’t. We both know you will. So stop fighting it.” The words wash over me, a torrent of dark promises and deep truths.
My gaze shifts down, tracing the contours of his chest. His dark hair, wet, clings to his muscular form. Each muscle ripples with power and strength, a testament to the true king he is. Using my eyes, I trail lower, taking in his taut abdomen and his cock standing hard between his thighs. Desire coils within me, tightening with each beat of my heart.
His hand finds my hair, threading through the damp strands. I stay still, conflicted. There’s a part of me—the part connected by the bond—that yearns for him, for his touch. Yet my pride, my sense of self, refuses to succumb. His question lingers in the steam-filled air, “What do you want, Sienna?” I remain silent, reaching for the soap instead. My movement brings me closer to him, his hard cock brushing against my thigh. The contact sends a spark through me, a memory of his girth stretching me, so do the memories of his rushed climaxes, the unfulfilled need he leaves me with.
His hand leaves my hair, and his grip moves to my chin, forcing my head back. “I know you want me, yet you deny yourself,” he murmurs. His words provoke a bitter laugh. “Better I deny myself, than have you deny me when you’re done with me,” I whisper, and for a moment, his eyes soften.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Yet you keep doing it,” I retort.
His thumb brushes across my lips, a gentle gesture that contradicts his intentions. I am just a toy to this man, nothing more, I won’t let his gentle touches and teasing remove the image of the monster he can truly be.
