Auctioned to the Cruel King - Chapter 33: Chapter 33

Kayla’s POV
The cold of the examination table seeped through the thin layer of linen beneath me, biting into the small of my back. Dr. Helene’s gloved hands were gentle, but there was no comfort in the sterile atmosphere of this palace medical wing.
A low hum from the diagnostic machine buzzed in the background as she moved the scanner across my lower abdomen, watching the flickering screen with trained, clinical eyes.
"There," she murmured, more to herself than to me.
Her eyes fixed on the grainy black-and-white screen, which did nothing to clarify anything for me: “Your egg has been released, just as we hoped.”
I stared, unsure whether to be relieved or bothered. The swirling pattern could be anything more like a storm captured in a still frame.
"Is that... good?"
She looked up, her brows furrowed. “It's progress, my dear. The hormonal treatments are working exactly as intended. Your body is responding beautifully." She paused, adjusting the wand's position.
“With consistent sexual activity and a steady monitoring of your cycle, there’s a strong chance we can trigger conception. Especially with the Lycan King’s genes.”
“I see.”
I looked away, the mention of Lance making my stomach twist. He hadn’t returned in four days now and I’d been feeling like shit ever since.
“Have there been any sexual activity since we last spoke?”
Should I say yes? It was clear whatever we may have done bore no fruit.
“Yes…about four days ago.”
“Mmm.”
Dr. Helene set the wand aside and reached for a towel to clean the gel from my skin.
"Don't lose heart. Conception rarely happens on the first attempt, even under ideal circumstances. With the treatments I'm giving you and with more... opportunities... I'm confident we'll see results soon."
More opportunities. The euphemism made my cheeks burn. She was talking about sex with Lance as if it were a medical procedure, which I supposed, in her mind, it was.
“We’ll continue observing, there’s nothing to worry about.”
She went to pick up some materials and returned to my side.
"The important thing," she continued, preparing a syringe, "is that your body is ready. Prime for conception. We just need the right timing." She held up the needle, the liquid inside catching the light. "This will help maintain your hormone levels. Are you ready?"
I nodded mutely.
The sting of the needle wasn’t as bad as the cold snap of fear in my chest. Not fear of the injection, but fear that this, all of it, was becoming normal. That I was no longer recoiling at the idea of being monitored like livestock.
“Second one,” Helene warned, her voice calm. I clenched my fists as another injection burned into the skin of my belly.
“There. All done.” She peeled off the gloves and discarded them into the bin. “Don’t stress yourself. The body listens, and it reacts. Let it settle.”
"And if I can't conceive?" I asked.
Dr. Helene's face faltered slightly. "Let's not borrow trouble, alright?”
I had only voiced the words that kept nagging at me.
Then she smiled. “How do you feel?”
“Like a pincushion,” I admitted and she just laughed.
Good thing someone still knows how to do that.
I slid off the table slowly, tugging down my shirt. “Thank you.”
She gave me a small nod, scribbling notes on her tablet. “Keep hydrated. And if the King returns—well, I imagine you’ll know what to do.”
Of course.
I left the wing with numb legs and an aching heart.
This may be for Lance, but I wanted my baby too. Maybe that was why I was staying, a chance at conceiving. And to think the arrogant king is somewhere without a care in the world. Stupid.
I was losing my mind. That was the only explanation for why I felt so... hollow without him here.
I was nearly startled by Moira.
“You were in there quite a while," she said, falling into step beside me as we walked toward the main palace. “Is something wrong?”
“No. Just talking,” I lied. “It’s nothing.”
Moira studied me carefully, then smiled softly, accepting my explanation without pressing further. It was one of the things I'd come to appreciate about her.
“The sunset’s beautiful this evening,” she said as we passed a window overlooking the courtyard. “Would you like to walk through the garden? I could fetch you some desserts.”
I considered it. The idea of fresh air tugged at me, but I needed distraction, not reflection.
“I think I want to bake,” I said instead. “If the chef’s finished, maybe I can use the kitchen.”
Moira’s eyes lit up. “Of course. I’ll ask.”
Now that I think of it, I haven't come across Cartier in a while.
We made our way through the palace corridors, past tapestries depicting long-dead kings and queens, past servants who bowed their heads as we passed. The formality still felt strange to me. Just months ago, I'd been the one bowing, the one stepping aside to let others pass. Now I wore silk gowns and people called me Luna here, even though I felt like an imposter wearing someone else's life.
We were near the kitchens when the sound of heavy footsteps echoed behind us. I turned to see a tall, severe-looking man approaching with two guards flanking him.
I recognized him instantly. The King's physician.
My hands stilled. Moira stepped in front of me instinctively.
“What do you want?”
“She’s required,” the man said, voice grave. “The King’s orders.”
“What orders?” I asked, stepping forward. “What do you mean?”
“You owe the King your life,” he directed at me. “He brought you here, clothed you, fed you. You’ll repay that debt with obedience.”
What is he on about now?
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“The King’s medication is running low. And your blood is essential.”
I remembered that first day. Lance had ordered my blood drawn without explanation. Now, here it was again.
“You will not touch her without permission,” Moira hissed. “Wait for the King to return.”
“And if he returns unmedicated and kills three men before dawn?” the physician sneered. “Will you take the blame then?”
“When he tears through this palace in a rage that could have been prevented?"
Something told me he’d done that before.
My voice rose. “Did the King ask you to do this?”
I was grasping for some thread of hope that this was a misunderstanding.
The man hissed. He was being impatient and I hated men like him. “His Majesty ordered me to do whatever was necessary to ensure results. Your blood has proven most effective in his treatment. That makes you valuable, not precious. And you will be coming with me.”
My heart twisted this time.
"You're making a mistake," I said.
"The only mistake," he replied, "would be allowing His Majesty to suffer because of your misplaced pride.” He gestured at the guards. “Have her taken to the lab.”
The guards moved. Moira tried to shield me, but it was no use. I was dragged down the corridor despite my protests, but not after Moira promised to find Alaric.
The room I was taken to wasn’t just as he said. A lab. Stark, metallic, cruel. Machines lined the walls, tables littered with syringes and vials. I was forced into a chair, leather straps buckled across my arms and legs.
I struggled and cursed him, but he just continued fetching his contents.
“Once she returns—”
“It won't matter," he said. "By the time she returns, we'll be finished."
“You’ll regret this,” I spat and my wolf growled at him.
The physician snickered. “You think the King loves you? You think his kindness means anything? You're a fool. His kindness is only for the reason that your scent doesn't repel him the way others do. And your blood proves unusually effective in his treatments. So stop fighting it.”
He lifted a long needle, tapping the vein in my arm. I struggled, the strap cutting into my skin.
“You’re insane.”
“And you’re delusional.”
The painfully large needle pierced my vein. I clenched my jaw to keep myself from crying out.
“Excellent," he murmured, watching as my blood began to flow through the tubing into a collection bag. "Your blood has such remarkable properties.” He spoke in awe. “The King's beast responds to it in ways we've never observed before."
The room began to tilt slightly as the bag filled. How much did he plan to take? He didn't take this much the last time.
Shit.
I tried to focus on the sound of my own breathing, on staying conscious and alert, but the steady flow of blood was making everything feel distant and strange.
Suddenly, the door exploded inward with such force that it struck the wall and bounced back.
My neck snapped to catch Lance in the doorway.
His eyes found mine first, taking in the restraints, then the needle, the blood flowing from my arm, and something shifted in his expression that made my breath catch.
I didn't know if he’d come for me or my blood.
But—
“My King—” the physician began.
Lance moved.
A blur of motion, a flash of fury.
The back of his hand cracked against the physician’s jaw, sending him flying across the room. Glass shattered. Metal clanged. The table he struck collapsed beneath his weight.