Auctioned to the Cruel King - Chapter 29: Chapter 29

Kayla’s POV
“Hi.”
The word was a whisper. Barely a breath. Pathetic, even. But it escaped me before I could snatch it back. My fingers fidgeted at my sides.
I hated that I was trembling. Hated that this was what I’d become around him now, uncertain, unsure. But this needed to be said—all of it.
Better he heard the truth from my mouth than from someone else’s. Better to own the parts of my past before they were twisted into someone else’s narrative. And if he chose to damn me afterward… so be it.
“We’re saying hi’s now?”
Heat flooded my cheeks. I cringed internally.
“I—yeah, I’m sorry, I just…” I cleared my throat, trying to piece my sentence together. “I mean, um... I came to talk to you."
He must have grown bored with my stammering because he moved away from his desk with that predatory grace that made me think of wolves stalking through moonlit forests.
He walked over to the small shelf tucked into the corner of the room, where a selection of whiskey bottles gleamed under the low lighting. His back was partly angled to me, and I had to blink. The way he stood—so casual, yet carrying the weight of a king, made something twist low in my stomach.
He poured himself a glass. Then asked without looking at me, “You want one?”
I shook my head even though he wasn't looking. “Oh—no, thank you.”
Maybe I should’ve because revealing what I was about to may demand such.
He turned around fully this time, glass in hand. “Are you sure?” A smirk tugged at his lips. I didn't answer. “What a night it’s been. Better yet—have you eaten anything, you barely had any?”
I hesitated. “…No. Not yet.”
Lance lifted the glass to his face and inhaled. “You should.” Without waiting for a response, he stepped around me to where a fruit platter sat and reached for a plate. He picked up two pieces of baked bread and placed them down like a small offering. Then he added something else. Thin slices of butter pressed between the crust.
I stared at the plate. That familiar smell. How did he?
“Here,” he said. “Have some of these. They’re… oddly tasty. Been my thing lately.”
I swallowed tightly. “I—I didn’t know you liked those.”
Lance returned to leaning against his desk, sipping his whiskey. “Well, you never asked. You’ve always looked at me like I was the stuff of nightmares.”
My eyes flicked up to meet his. “That’s not true.”
“It is. But don’t worry.” He sipped from his drink again. “You’re not the only one. Most people should see me that way.”
I gripped the edge of the chair near me. “If I really thought that about you… I wouldn’t have made those.”
His head tilted slightly. “You made them?”
There was no hiding now. I nodded, slowly. “It’s a ginger blend. From back home. My mother used to make it. I bake them sometimes when I’m…” I hesitated. Vulnerable? Lost? Trying not to fall apart? Fishing for information? “When I need to remember something good.” that wasn't a lie either.
Still, it had only been twice, actually. Once, I was fishing for information, and the other, it had been the old chef’s request.
He looked down at the plate, brows knitting. “Moira brings them to me. I assumed it was something Robert had added to the meals.”
That surprised me. Moira had brought them to him? That girl… it seems she has a way of always surprising me…
“I love them,” Lance murmured. “They’re… addictive. Keep making them.”
I wasn’t supposed to feel anything about those words. But I did. Warmth curled in my chest. Strange and uninvited.
He leaned back slightly, glass still in hand. “So… what did you want to talk about?”
I wrung my hands, nerves still alive under my skin. “I—” I faltered.
Lance frowned. “You haven’t even taken a bite. Why are you so tense?” His tone softened, just a little. “Relax.”
He pushed the plate toward me. I obeyed, hesitantly taking a bite of the bread. It was warm. They must have just heated them. Even at that, it was not the same.
My mother’s version had been slightly better, more crumbly. She'd had a way with the spices, a touch that couldn't be replicated. Regardless of what my pack had known her, she had been the best at so many things. Being a whore wasn't her choice—she'd been a slave, unable to leave that life because there was too high a price on her head.
And yet, everything she’d done, even selling herself, had been for my sake.
It was why it hurt so much when—
“Here,” Lance said, gently sliding a different glass toward me. Not whiskey. Wine. “Try this instead. Let it coat your mouth before you swallow.”
I took a small sip. He was watching me. His closeness was sudden and subtle—I hadn’t realized when he’d leaned in.
I blinked up at him. “It’s… not bad.”
“Not bad?” He gave a small, playful scoff. “Come on. That’s a masterpiece.”
This was…new. But the whole of today had been.
A small smile tugged at my lips despite everything. I took another bite, then a longer sip of the wine. “Okay, fine. I admit…it’s quite good.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” He clinked his glass softly to mine in a toast. “Greatly said.”
I smiled. Again.
For a moment, I forgot why I came. For a heartbeat, I simply was. But then his gaze sobered again not long after.
“So.” His voice gentled. “What is it?”
I opened my mouth. The words were there. Heavy. Crowding my throat.
“I… I want to tell you about something. Some…something you need to know…”
I couldn't keep holding the wine so I lowered it. I was ready, I should be.
“Yeah, well…I…”
But they didn’t come. Not fully. My body stiffened, and my hands went cold. I thought I’d made peace with the past and what was to come. I thought I could say it. But that night—being sold like cattle. Landon’s face. The betrayal. The void in my wolf where our bond used to be—it all returned in a crushing wave, mocking me it will be the same should I reveal my secret to Lance.
I would be abandoned once again. And that felt worse than death.
My voice cracked. And before I knew it, my eyes burned. A tear fell before I could stop it.
I hated this. Hated the way I trembled. Why couldn’t I just say it?
“Hey, hey, hey…” Lance said softly, his voice grounding me. Then he moved and suddenly, his arms were around me, my face pressed to his chest. I breathed him in, the scent of pine soothing the panic clawing at my throat. That mark twitched and I felt more of his scent, ones I never got the chance to inhale before.
“Shhh. It’s okay. Breathe, Kayla,” he whispered into my hair.
Why was he being like this?
Why now?
“You don’t have to tell me,” he murmured, stroking my back with slow, deliberate motions. “As far as I can tell, everything went fine… as it was supposed to be. I was mostly surprised you didn't kill him the first moment you saw him."
I pulled back slightly, eyes narrowing. “What do you mean?”
Those now beautiful eyes studied me. “I mean her…Vivian. She can very well be a pain sometimes. It was about her, right? The reason you came.”
Uh-huh?
I blinked at him. It was strange. That wasn't the feeling I'd gotten from his earlier words.
He brushed away a tear from my cheek, his touch far too gentle for the beast I’d witnessed myself.
“You don’t need to explain anything now. Not if you’re not ready.” His voice dropped into a murmur. “We’ve still got time.”
Time.
I wanted to believe that.
That I could—
My eyes dropped to his lips. I bit my own, and I saw his gaze flick down to watch.
He leaned in slowly, brushing a soft kiss to the damp trail my tear had left. Then another. Then one more.
“You just have to stay here,” he murmured. “With me. And no harm will come to you.”
I should’ve asked what he meant. Should’ve questioned it. Why he was different tonight…but instead, I stood on my toes—and kissed him. His lips were fire against mine and I shamelessly wanted to explore them, perhaps for the last time.
He must have sensed my intention because he didn't waver. My hands slid up around his shoulders as his mouth claimed mine, opening my mouth to him, and his tongue slipped in, caressing my own. My wolf stirred. No, she howled.
He hardened against me and I groaned into his mouth.
The sound snapped whatever leash he’d had on himself, and Lance scooped me up in a smooth movement before laying me flat on the desk amongst and on top of all the papers.