Auctioned to the Cruel King - Chapter 34: Chapter 34

Kayla’s POV
What happened next would haunt my dreams for weeks to come.
I watched, dazed and strapped to a cold steel chair, as Lance slammed the two guards' heads together with such brutal force I could almost feel the reverberation in my bones. Their bodies crumpled to the ground, twitching, maybe dead, maybe not, but if they lived, it would be with shattered skulls and lives never the same.
And he didn’t even look back.
Blood smeared his knuckles. His eyes, those wild, burning eyes, didn't belong to the man who'd once touched my hand with unsettling gentleness. No. This was something else.
I could feel it then. Something far more terrifying. The thing inside him, the beast beneath the man, was closer to the surface than ever before.
The physician scrambled backward among the shattered glass, leaving trails of blood from where the shards had cut him. "Your Majesty, plea…please—I was serving you! The medication, your condition—"
"My condition?"
I’d never heard such a tone before.
The physician's face went white. "My King, without the treatments—"
Footsteps thundered down the hall, and then a blur of dark curls and pale skin rushed to my side.
“Oh gods, Luna—” she gasped, quickly working to undo the straps digging into my arms. “I’m so sorry. I came as soon as I could.”
I tried to nod, but the room tilted. He’d taken so much blood that even sitting upright felt like climbing a mountain. But I was conscious enough to feel grateful—grateful that Moira had found Lance, grateful that he'd come, grateful that I was still alive.
I managed a whisper, “You came. That’s what matters.”
I could feel her panic in the way she held me, in how her eyes darted to the bodies on the floor and the red-stained instruments by the table.
I felt Lance’s presence approaching, the air thickening with it.
My heart pounded, faster and faster until I thought it might rip through my chest. My gaze lifted to him, blood on his hands, fury in his expression—and—and—that thing I wasn't sure of.
He stepped past the bodies and reached for me.
I flinched as Moira moved away.
Still, his arms were careful as he scooped me up, cradling me against his chest like I weighed nothing. The glow hadn’t left his eyes. That feral, consuming gleam flickered with restraint that looked like it was hanging by a thread, and I feared that even my breath might snap it. My blood had already spilled once today. I wasn’t sure I’d survive it happening again.
He said nothing as he carried me, before ordering Moira to fetch the doctor.
“Take them.” I heard Alaric order as we passed the entrance.
“No! I—I was only serving the King’s orders!” the physician screamed, his voice rising like a banshee’s wail. “I was loyal! I was—!”
When we reached my room, Lance laid me on the bed with care that didn’t quite fit the man who’d shattered skulls minutes earlier. I looked up at him, and that’s when the glow began to fade from his eyes.
Only then did the crushing tension in my chest begin to loosen.
I shouldn't but I did.
“Did you… did you order it?” I asked, my voice hoarse, barely audible.
His jaw flexed. “I did. Once.”
I see.
“But I stopped it,” he continued. “If I had wanted your blood drawn, I would have been present like the last time. I’d vowed you’ll never be touched by another man.”
It shouldn’t have comforted me. It shouldn’t have warmed me like it did. But maybe it was the blood loss, or maybe it was that strange thing clawing behind my ribs… Because, whatever the case, he had saved me. He had stopped the man who was trying to bleed me dry.
That was enough. For now.
“So…when did you return?”
“When I found you.”
Any moment later and I might have—
“Rest. The doctor will be here soon.”
As if on cue, the door creaked open, and Moira rushed in with Dr. Helene and the blood pack gripped in her gloved hands.
I barely remembered the needle going in, the warmth of blood returning to my body.
When I woke, it was dark. The shadows had shifted across the room, and a silver sliver of moonlight crept across the floor.
A figure leaned close.
“Moira?" I whispered.
She startled awake immediately. "Oh! You're awake. How do you feel?"
"Better." I pushed myself up to sitting, pleased to find that the world didn't spin quite as violently as before. "Much better."
“The doctor said the transfusion went well. You should be back to normal strength soon.” Moira reached for a glass of water on the nightstand. "Here, you should drink this."
The clock on the wall read 2:13 a.m.
My eyes swept the room after I gulped enough water. Has she been here ever since? Regardless, she wasn’t the presence I’d felt in my sleep.
“The King said to tell you to conserve your strength," she said breathlessly.
"I'm fine.” I was now, at least. “Thank you,” I whispered. “For staying.”
She smiled faintly. “Couldn’t leave. Not after what happened. Not to mention you had been as pale as fresh snow.”
My legs trembled slightly when they hit the floor. “Not because of the Alpha?”
Moira’s cheeks flushed. “He might’ve… insisted.”
A laugh escaped me—dry, but real.
I shuffled to the window for air. Two guards below patrolled the area.
“What happened to the physician?"
"The King had him dealt with," Moira said simply, “He’s probably in the dungeon or already killed.”
That wasn't a clear answer.
I lingered there for a while before the shift took hold. The Physician might’ve acted out of some twisted sense of loyalty to Lance, but the things he said…
“Moira,” I said, my voice softer now, “what did the physician mean about the king’s beast?”
Moira stiffened. “I don’t know much,” she mumbled. “That part’s not public knowledge. But I do know the council fears him, not for who he is only, but his beast.”
“Hmmm. And the scent thing?”
“The King is hypersensitive. Scents repulse him, almost all of them. That's why everyone who serves him closely is required to wear perfumes or scented oils to mask their natural scent."
“Is that why you made me wear them?”
Of course that was the reason, and here I’d thought it was a fragrance he preferred his women wear.
“Yes,” she admitted. “But he did ask me to stop having you wear them, which can only mean your scent doesn’t disgust him.”
It was just like the physician said.
I didn’t know how to feel about that. Part of me wanted to be relieved, prideful even.
By morning, color had returned to my skin, and food actually sounded good. After a quiet breakfast, I thought he wouldn’t come.
But he did. Briefly.
The next time I saw him was when I was in the kitchen, slipping loaves into the oven, trying to feel normal again.
“You look better.”
I suddenly heard and turned to find Lance by the entrance.
“Less like you're about to collapse."
"Amazing what having all your blood back in your body can do," I replied dryly.
He had the grace to look slightly ashamed. "That will never happen again. You have my word."
Dear mother, but I believe him.
He eyed me. “Would you like to join me for a hunt?"
"A hunt?"
He nodded.
A hunt. Right. Because that was perfectly normal.
Still, the offer was so unexpected that I almost refused out of sheer surprise. But the thought of leaving the palace, of breathing a different air, was too tempting to resist.
We took a mountain truck into the woods. The ride was quiet, bumping through rugged terrain until the trees thickened around us. Four others joined, likely guards.
Lance retrieved a hunting rifle from the back of the truck and a case while I gathered the basket I'd packed with water and toasted bread. He had insisted it wasn't necessary, but I'd learned that men often forgot about practical things like food when they were focused on other pursuits.
Lance and I continued alone.
I wore a wide-brimmed hat to protect my face from the sun, and despite everything that had happened between us, I found myself relaxing for the first time in days.
I nearly bumped into him. “Do you know how to use one of these?" he asked, hefting the rifle.
I shook my head. "I've never had reason to learn."
He managed a twitch of his lips.
“Care to learn?”
Well, why not? I placed the basket down.
“Here." He moved behind me, positioning my hands on the weapon. "The stock goes against your shoulder—firmly, or the recoil will bruise you. Sight down the barrel like this..." His breath was warm against my ear as he guided my movements. "And squeeze the trigger gently. Don't jerk it."
The rifle was heavier than I'd expected, and the metal was cold against my palms. When Lance stepped back, I lowered it immediately.
“I don't think I could actually shoot anything," I admitted.
"Not even to defend yourself?"
I considered this. "Maybe then. But not for sport."
Lance nodded as if this was the answer he'd expected. He pushed his head back and released a breath and I watched the muscle of his neck work.
Even that was sensual to watch and I might have been bewitched by it.
When he looked to find me staring, I looked away and began drifting toward a strange plant, its purple buds curling like wings.
“Don’t touch that,” he said quickly. “It’s poisonous.”
My hand froze inches from it. “Right. Of course it is.”
“It’s a sumac. Beautiful, but it'll give you blisters that last for weeks."
I made a mental note to keep my hands to myself and rose, only then did I see the gun suddenly raised at me.
My breath hitched and my throat worked.
His eyes locked on mine, and then he raised a finger to his lips. Shhh.
Then he aimed a little higher, over my shoulder.
And fired.