Auctioned to the Cruel King - Chapter 16: Chapter 16

Lance’s POV
“My King, you called for me.”
I didn’t look up immediately. The glass of whiskey in my hand was more deserving of my attention than him though I had called for him. The burn of liquor down my throat helped dull the pounding ache that had settled behind my eyes since morning. I stared at the stack of papers littering my desk — complaints, reports, and more fucking bureaucracy.
I lowered the glass, eyes cutting sharply to the man now standing two paces into the room. He stood straight, but even from here, I could hear the tremor in his voice.
“Yeah,” I muttered. “How was it?”
The guard blinked, as if unsure of what I meant. Imbecile. “The trip to the doctor,” I clarified coldly. My voice was flat, devoid of anything close to warmth. Too tired to even care.
He shifted his weight. “Well, my King, it was… fine.”
Huh?
I stared. Just stared. Long enough for the silence to become unbearable. I didn’t need to speak to make my displeasure known. I let it hang, let it choke the air between us until he cleared his throat, stumbling to correct himself.
“Ahem. Apologies, my King. She didn’t seem to want to go at first but… she followed in the end.”
That wasn’t what I asked. Fucking hell.
I turned in my chair, the leather groaning beneath my weight. “You think I don’t know that already?” I asked, my tone sharp, cutting. “Do you think I sent you along with her to be a fucking chaperone?”
He flinched. Good.
“I asked for your ‘view’, not a damn play-by-play. You were there to observe. Report. Every fucking detail. And you’re wasting my time with this useless drivel?”
“My apologies, my King.”
“Get out.”
He bowed stiffly and left without another word. I leaned back in the chair, tipping my whiskey glass into my mouth until it was empty. The burn wasn’t enough. Nothing ever was.
“Useless,” I muttered, tossing the glass onto the table. It clinked loudly, barely missing a stack of parchment. My gaze drifted back over the reports, but nothing held my focus. I was still thinking about it — about the night. I’d lost control, given in to him. Only realized myself when I was about to fuck her. Gods. It hadn’t gone badly… but I didn’t want a repeat of it. Not unless it was necessary. My beast disagreed, of course. The thing inside me craved her more than I did.
Her cycle. I needed to understand it. Predict it. It would save me from more… unnecessary fucking.
A knock pulled me out of my thoughts.
“Enter.”
Alaric stepped in.
“Alpha,” he said, “your first-noon guest has arrived.”
I stood, pulling the robe tighter around me. “Good. Put them in the gallery. I’ll meet them there.”
The walk to the gallery gave me time to compose my thoughts. Multiple reports had reached me over the past weeks—not to mention Alpha Kane was bringing up that offer again. It could be useful, but then again it could go badly. Not to mention Kane is one hell of a bastard. I might be higher than him, but he’s as cunning as a fox.
Sigh.
The gallery was silent when I entered, save for the nervous breathing of Councilor Morden. The mid-fifty aged man sat nearby the left, raising abruptly when the doors opened.
“Alpha.” He offered me his thin, shaky smile.
“Councilor,” I said coolly. “How are you?”
“Thank you, my King. I’m fine.”
I nodded once. “Hope the journey wasn’t too hectic. Given your… busy schedule.”
He chuckled nervously. “Oh, no. No trouble at all.”
“I couldn’t care anyway.” I walked to the head of the table and leaned on it, arms folded. “So, what’s this I hear about a secret meeting?”
His face flickered with panic before settling into forced confusion. "What do you mean, my King? What meeting?"
“Hmm." I studied him, noting every microexpression, every shift in his scent. "Are you testing me, Councilor?"
“No, my King,” he stuttered. “I am dumbfounded by this accusation.”
“You call it an accusation?” I pushed off the table, slowly moving away. He was of a respected home, at least, as far as until I got the information. This is the reason I dislike nobles, they are in for their own gain, not that such isn't the same for everyone. Still, he should’ve known better. “Fine. I’ll ask one more time: what is it I hear about a secret meeting? Agreements made. Hands shook.”
“I know nothing of such things.”
Sweat gathered on the side of his face. Disgusting. Even his scent made my stomach churn. On a normal day, I would’ve stood by the window to avoid it. But not today. Today, I wanted to see the lies bleed out of his face.
“I would never—” blah blah blah.
I clapped. Four times. Loud and deliberate. The echo bounced off the gallery walls and did what I needed it to, make him shut up.
“I have to give it to you, Councilor. Rarely does anyone make me repeat myself twice.”
“I swear, my King. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I sighed and waved a hand toward the guards near the door, stepping away as I finally moved to the window. I needed the air. And more people meant more unacceptable scents.
“Bring them in.”
A second door opened. Guards ushered in the Councilor’s wife, son, and daughter. The wife sobbed openly. The daughter clung to her mother. The son looked pale, barely able to stand.
The Councilor paled. “What. What. What—No, my King, p-please. They’ve done nothing wrong.”
“You say ‘please’ like you earned it,” I muttered. “I gave you two chances to speak plainly. This wouldn’t have been necessary if you had.”
“I swear, I know nothing—”
“I like your guts,” I said quietly, facing them. “Your family’s kneeling there, and you still try to bluff your way out. It’s been a long time since I’ve been this entertained.”
I slid my coat off and snapped my fingers. A guard pulled a chair out and set it in front of me. I sat down, facing the family. They were crying now. All of them. I should peel off his skin to make me go to such lengths. Ugh…people are unbelievable.
“Who do I start with?” I mused. “No, fuck it. I’ll let you pick.”
The counselor looked at me, confused. “Pick?”
“Which member of your family dies first, here and now—and which one do I send to join the sand scouts." My gaze settled on his daughter. "How old is your girl?"
"No, please, my King!" his wife wailed.
"No, my King, I beg you," Morden fell to his knees.
"Oh, don't fear. She’s not for me,” I said. She should be about fifteen or so. Tsk. “I’m not that depraved. But the Sand Scouts? Oh, they’ll love her. Many of them haven’t touched a woman in years. Starving lycans, them. It won’t be fucking. Calling it that would be an insult.”
“NO!” the woman cried. “Please, my King, have mercy!” Turning to her husband. "Just tell him whatever it is!"
I'd had enough of this charade. "Kill the boy."
The guards grabbed him, wrenching him away. A gun was drawn.
“WAIT!” the Councilor shouted. “Please, I’ll talk! I’ll tell you everything!”
I held up a hand. The guard froze mid-motion.
“Go on,” I said.
“He came to me,” the Councilor stammered. “Asking for—”
“He came to you?” I cut in. “Or you to him?”
“T-to me,” he said quickly. “I didn’t seek him out.”
“And you met with him anyway. Entertained him.”
“My King, I had no choice. I couldn’t refuse the request of a—”
“Yeah, yeah. What did he promise you?”
“He said that if I helped—”
“No,” I snapped. “I didn’t ask what he wanted. I asked what you got out of it. What was promised?”
Morden opened and closed his mouth, stuttering.
I stood. “You know what? Doesn’t matter. I just needed you to admit it in front of me. I already know everything.”
I turned to the guards. “Lock them up.”
“NO!” Morden scrambled forward, reaching for my boots and the guard dragged him back. “Please, my King, mercy! I’ve told you the truth!”
“Mercy,” I repeated, voice ice now. “The fact your family is still breathing is mercy.”
“Take them.”
The guards dragged them out, kicking and screaming.
Alaric stepped to my side, leaning in.
“He has arrived, Alpha,” he whispered.
“Tell him I’ll meet him in an hour,” I said, voice flat. “Prepare the car.”