Auctioned to the Cruel King - Chapter 14: Chapter 14

Kayla's POV
The bed was cold.
I reached across the silken sheets, expecting—what, exactly? Warmth? Presence? A sign that last night hadn’t just happened in a fever dream?
But there was nothing.
Only the echo of touch still heavy on my skin. Sigh. Not that I expected the Alpha to have waited.
A groan escaped my lips as I blinked up at the carved mirror hanging above my bed, an obnoxious decoration that now betrayed me by reflecting the deep mark on my neck. Still red. Still tingling. Still undeniably his.
I cursed under my breath and turned my face into the pillow, trying to blot out the memory of his body—hot, overwhelming, the way he’d moved like something not fully in control. I wasn’t supposed to enjoy it. I wasn’t supposed to ache when it was over.
But I did. And now I felt hollow.
Just like before…
Just like when Landon—
A knock startled me. I froze, barely lifting my head. The door creaked and a soft, unfamiliar voice slipped through the crack.
“My lady, I’ll be coming in.”
I didn’t reply. I never knew when the others came in these past days, so why reply now. Moreover, my throat was raw, whether from sleep or the screaming from last night.
A girl stepped inside, early twenties maybe, with honey-blonde braids tucked behind her ears. Not one of the usual maids. Her eyes widened slightly as she took in the disheveled sheets and my tangled form on the bed, but she kept her composure.
“Good morning, Lady Kayla,” she said gently.
I rolled to my side but didn’t return the greeting. She moved to the window, yanking the curtains open and letting light pour in like a punishment.
“I didn’t ask you to open that,” I snapped. “Get out.”
My voice cracked, and I hated how weak it sounded.
My anger was disproportionate, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I recognized it. But I couldn't stop it—this torrent of emotion threatening to drown me.
She flinched but remained rooted. “My apologies, Lady Kayla.”
That's when the door swung open again. This time, it was the personal guard assigned to me. I never bothered to learn his name, but judging by how things have been, or will be before I escape this place, a name was needed.
“Good morning, Lady Kayla. Orders from the Lycan King,” he announced. “He invites you to join him for breakfast. Moira”—he nodded toward the girl—“will be your new personal assistant. She’ll accompany you wherever you go, and handle everything necessary.”
So, a babysitter. I snorted inwardly, fighting the urge to roll my eyes.
He didn’t react, only added, “I’ll be outside when you’re ready to leave.”
Moira—my new handler—bowed slightly and guided me to the bath after that. The water was already drawn. Steam curled in the air, scented faintly of jasmine and cedar.
If only I could stay there for as long as I wanted.
“The King prefers this scent on his woman. Especially in the mornings,” she said, a little too casually after I’d worn the dress readied for me.
I paused. “Excuse me?”
She repeated it. “He… favors this fragrance. It’s always been his preference.”
“Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time.” My voice dropped cold. “And how would you know what kind of perfume and at what hour he likes that particular scent on his women?"
Her head bowed. “Forgive me, my lady. I may have spoken out of turn.”
I stared at her. Then at the bottle she clutched. Had she served his previous women? Maybe that was why the other servants were suddenly changed. I could draw out information from her, but the incident with the guard taught me better. They were more of his spies than servants.
Whatever.
“Fine.”
I just had to obey. I plucked the bottle from her hand and spritzed just a little. Enough.
Oddly, I could not detect anything even with my wolf nose.
The guard outside nodded once and led us down the corridor. Though I’d been in this place for days, I’d never once shared a meal with him. Personally. Never been invited to sit at his table in the morning.
The room was full of sunlight and silence. Lance stood near the window, broad shoulders facing the garden beyond, hands clasped behind his back.
Moira whispered, “We're here, my King. I apologize for our tardiness."
There was no sign of Alpha Kane. He must have departed already.
He turned.
My breath caught.
Those eyes slid to mine, slow and searing. My body flared in reaction—foolish. Even the bite on my neck throbbed like it remembered him.
“Ah,” he said smoothly. “Took you long enough. I waited so we could start together. And maybe talk.”
He gestured for me to sit.
The guard pulled out my chair. I sat stiffly, eyes on the gleaming cutlery and the steaming plates. Moira retreated behind.
“Hope you like quail,” Lance said, settling into his seat. “Robert’s masterpiece. He insisted.”
The silver dome was lifted from the platter. Quail, glazed with honey and herbs, steamed atop a bed of spiced grains. A glass of deep red wine was poured beside it.
I didn’t touch it.
Lance sliced a piece of meat and brought it to his lips. “Try the wine,” he said.
“I’m fine.”
He glanced up. “Trust me. It’s a burst of taste paired with this dish. Robert might as well be a sorcerer.”
Robert, standing at the side, bowed slightly. “Thank you for your praises, Alpha.”
I frowned. Something was wrong. He was…talking. Conversing. Calm. This wasn’t the cold, brooding King who stared at me like I’d be cut down if I blink. It wasn’t the man who—
“You know what, Robert?” I said, interrupting. “Leave the bottle.” I waved my hand. “Everyone—leave.”
The servants stared. Robert hesitated.
The King merely raised a brow and gave a single nod.
The room emptied.
"Is there something I should know?" I demanded, my patience snapping like brittle glass. I may have been bought at an auction, but—
He picked up his wine glass again. “I don’t follow.”
I leaned forward. “You know exactly what I mean. Last night. My room. Or are we pretending none of that happened? And now you're inviting me to have breakfast with you—" which you never do "—making small talk about fucking quail, which, by the way, doesn't help."
He paused. Swirled the wine once, then set it down.
“Careful,” he said lightly. “Robert takes that kind of insult personally.”
My mouth tightened. This isn’t some twisted Alpha mind game, right? If this was a road to him punishing me for something—maybe my involvement with Alpha Kane—if it was, he should just say it, save me the fear that no matter how I tried to quell, still rose.
His jaw ticked, barely.
“I have no disdain for Robert, he’s a good chef.” I swallowed the burn rising in my throat. “But I don’t care how fine this wine is or the meal. Or what scent you like in the morning. I only ask to know when I am being punished. Why am I here? What comes after this…this breakfast?”
Silence stretched between us.
“You're here to have breakfast with me," Lance replied with infuriating calm. "You know that."
Know that? Then—
“You—last night, you raped me.”
The glass stilled in his hand.
“What,” he said, voice deadly low, “did you just say?”
My heart thudded, knowing I’d just crossed a line I couldn't uncross.
“I said… last night was a rape.”