Auctioned to the Cruel King - Chapter 38: Chapter 38
You are reading Auctioned to the Cruel King, Chapter 38: Chapter 38. Read more chapters of Auctioned to the Cruel King.
Kayla’s POV
The wind had turned. I could feel it in the brittle shift of air, in the restless rustling of the garden leaves like they, too, knew something had just gone wrong.
Cartier’s retreating figure disappeared past the hedge-lined path, and I remained rooted in place, shawl and needle in one hand, bitter silence clinging to the other. My heart still echoed with the finality of his words. Damn him. I’d let him talk too much, let him stir waters I wasn't ready to tread again.
A chill grazed the back of my neck.
“Hmm, hello? A thank you should be in order,” Vivian said, tone sharp enough to slice through steel.
I didn’t bother looking at her. I gathered my shawl, folded it with more force than necessary, and rose from the fancy chair. “For what?”
She clicked her tongue, amusement coating her voice. “For helping you escape his clutches, obviously. I could’ve let him keep digging. Gods know how deep his claws run.”
Says the devil herself.
I took a low breath, glancing at the overturned teacups, and the cooling kettle. The entire garden feels contaminated now. I’d send someone later to clear it—one of the maids. I didn’t want to stay another moment in the same air as her.
I turned to her fully, eyes steady. “What’s your angle, Vivian? I don’t buy that you interrupted our little tête-à-tête out of the goodness of your cold heart.”
Her well-groomed body swayed. “What if it was out of the goodness of my cold heart?”
I gave her a dry look. I haven't forgotten how our night that day ended, not for one beat. “Then that worries me more. Because if you’re being nice, it means I should be very afraid.”
Her laugh was a thing of theatrics, all drama and loud and sharp. She was enjoying this too much.
“Clever thing. Not that it mattered.” She flicked a nonexistent speck off her sleeve. “Truth is, I don’t like sharing prey. When I saw him talking to you… it just clicked. I had to cut in.”
Prey? My stomach twisted at the word.
The same woman who once tried to claw her way into me was now pretending to be my savior?
Something tells me she’d returned for a reason I wouldn't want to find out myself. And still, despite everything, what gnawed at me was that Cartier had walked away before finishing whatever threat he was building.
I glanced at Vivian from under my lashes. “From where I was sitting, it looked like you were the prey. Who’s Cleo?”
The question hit its mark. Vivian flinched, just slightly, before catching herself and smirking like the villain she thought she played so well.
“Pray you never find out. Who am I kidding… You will. After all, your dear king is well-acquainted with him.”
My breath snagged.
Vivian tilted her head as if studying my reaction was more satisfying than answering the question. “Oh? Didn’t he tell you? Don’t look so awed. That’s just one of the things Lance and I share that you never will.”
I bristled.
“We’re bound by the waist, him and I,” she said, with a smile that made me want to slap it off. “We’re both rocking the same boat. If I go down…he goes down too.”
A cold wave swept through my chest. I didn’t know who Cleo was or what the hell she meant—but it didn’t take much imagination to realize whatever it was, it wasn’t good. And it involved Lance.
It was always something with everyone here.
“Funny how desperate women always find the need to exaggerate past conquests. Let me rephrase. The relationship you once had with the king.”
Vivian’s eyes narrowed but I wasn’t done.
“You say you're tied to him,” I added coolly, “but all I see is someone scrambling to stay relevant.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. She didn’t like that.
And then, because hell had a sense of humor, I leaned closer and whispered, “Let me give you a little hint, too. You know that night a few days ago, the one you stomped out of the dining hall?” I smirked. “Well, that night? He gave me the best fuck of his life and that was just the start of it.”
A gasp clawed at her throat, but she didn’t let it out.
“What a conquest he was…” I added, like a final dagger. “You were right, though. He is a good lay.”
And with that, I turned and walked away, my shawl clutched to my side.
I wasn't sure what got into me but I wanted to shove it in her face like she did. Maybe because my wolf also wanted it, to tell her the king belonged to us, and even though I knew this peace may be short-lived, I wanted it.
Stupid! I’d made a vow and already broke it.
I made it to my room before my composure faltered, and collapsed onto the bed, arms splayed wide, breath ragged. Then I screamed into my pillow.
A sharp, muffled yell.
I wanted the ache in my chest to mean something. But it didn’t. Because I didn’t even know what I felt anymore.
A knock interrupted my spiral.
“Luna? Apologies if I’m disturbing you. Are you alright?”
I sat up slowly, luckily, the tears hadn't fallen. “Come in.”
The door creaked open, and there she stood in her usual stoic posture, though her brows were drawn in concern.
“I could sense how tense you were,” she said gently, stepping into the room. “When speaking to Sir Cartier.”
Of course, she was watching.
“Nothing escapes you, does it, Moira?” I asked, trying for a wry smile.
“It’s the first time you’ve said my name.”
I paused. Really? I tilted my head, thoughtful. “Is it?”
She nodded once, lips twitching.
“Well,” I said, pushing off the bed, “maybe it’s time I started treating people better. An attitude adjustment, let’s call it.” I walked over to her and held her hands. “Let’s be friends. Like besties. Don’t you want that?”
Moira’s eyes sparkled faintly as she shook my hand. “I would like that very much. Thank you, Luna.”
“No no no.” I shook my head with a soft grin. “While we’re alone, call me by my name. Let’s do it properly. Just Kayla it should be.”
She chuckled.
Then I joined. Smiled—real ones. The kind that made the heavy air feel a little lighter.
I debated whether to mention Cartier or not. Ask what his role was when she said, “I came to let you know the King had returned and had requested your presence.”
My heart fluttered. I feared how my body would react to him.
“He’s in his office,” Moira added, with a hint of warmth in her otherwise even tone. “Said you could go to him whenever you’re ready.”
I nodded, smoothing a palm over my skirt. “Thanks, Moira.”
I took a deep breath.
I didn’t bother changing—I didn’t want to pretend I hadn’t just been curled up in a hurricane of my own feelings.
I knocked once.
“Come in.”
I stepped in.
“There you are.” He looked up from the stack of documents cluttering his desk. “You came so soon. What—missing me already? I thought you didn’t care.”
I instantly regretted coming this early.
“I don’t.”
Lance leaned back, chuckling. “Hmm. You’re turning red already.”
“No, I’m not,” I muttered, sitting up straighter.
“Okay then.” He reached into his coat pocket.
“So, why’d you want to see me?” I asked.
“Oh yeah.” He pulled out a small box and slid it across the table toward me. “Here. I got this for you.”
My fingers curled around the box as I opened it slowly. Inside sat a delicate white-steel chain with a silver star pendant. Against my will, my throat tightened.
“It’s…” My voice faltered. “It’s beautiful. You got this for me?”
I shouldn't— I never—
“Yes.”
I looked at him, studied the lines of his face, the shadows under his eyes, and for once, saw something softer there. Something unguarded. The cruel king? Or the man who sometimes looked at me like I was something worth protecting?
Slowly, I said, “I love it. Really.”
“So… are you going to put it on?”
I nodded.
And for a fleeting moment, I didn’t feel broken.
The wind had turned. I could feel it in the brittle shift of air, in the restless rustling of the garden leaves like they, too, knew something had just gone wrong.
Cartier’s retreating figure disappeared past the hedge-lined path, and I remained rooted in place, shawl and needle in one hand, bitter silence clinging to the other. My heart still echoed with the finality of his words. Damn him. I’d let him talk too much, let him stir waters I wasn't ready to tread again.
A chill grazed the back of my neck.
“Hmm, hello? A thank you should be in order,” Vivian said, tone sharp enough to slice through steel.
I didn’t bother looking at her. I gathered my shawl, folded it with more force than necessary, and rose from the fancy chair. “For what?”
She clicked her tongue, amusement coating her voice. “For helping you escape his clutches, obviously. I could’ve let him keep digging. Gods know how deep his claws run.”
Says the devil herself.
I took a low breath, glancing at the overturned teacups, and the cooling kettle. The entire garden feels contaminated now. I’d send someone later to clear it—one of the maids. I didn’t want to stay another moment in the same air as her.
I turned to her fully, eyes steady. “What’s your angle, Vivian? I don’t buy that you interrupted our little tête-à-tête out of the goodness of your cold heart.”
Her well-groomed body swayed. “What if it was out of the goodness of my cold heart?”
I gave her a dry look. I haven't forgotten how our night that day ended, not for one beat. “Then that worries me more. Because if you’re being nice, it means I should be very afraid.”
Her laugh was a thing of theatrics, all drama and loud and sharp. She was enjoying this too much.
“Clever thing. Not that it mattered.” She flicked a nonexistent speck off her sleeve. “Truth is, I don’t like sharing prey. When I saw him talking to you… it just clicked. I had to cut in.”
Prey? My stomach twisted at the word.
The same woman who once tried to claw her way into me was now pretending to be my savior?
Something tells me she’d returned for a reason I wouldn't want to find out myself. And still, despite everything, what gnawed at me was that Cartier had walked away before finishing whatever threat he was building.
I glanced at Vivian from under my lashes. “From where I was sitting, it looked like you were the prey. Who’s Cleo?”
The question hit its mark. Vivian flinched, just slightly, before catching herself and smirking like the villain she thought she played so well.
“Pray you never find out. Who am I kidding… You will. After all, your dear king is well-acquainted with him.”
My breath snagged.
Vivian tilted her head as if studying my reaction was more satisfying than answering the question. “Oh? Didn’t he tell you? Don’t look so awed. That’s just one of the things Lance and I share that you never will.”
I bristled.
“We’re bound by the waist, him and I,” she said, with a smile that made me want to slap it off. “We’re both rocking the same boat. If I go down…he goes down too.”
A cold wave swept through my chest. I didn’t know who Cleo was or what the hell she meant—but it didn’t take much imagination to realize whatever it was, it wasn’t good. And it involved Lance.
It was always something with everyone here.
“Funny how desperate women always find the need to exaggerate past conquests. Let me rephrase. The relationship you once had with the king.”
Vivian’s eyes narrowed but I wasn’t done.
“You say you're tied to him,” I added coolly, “but all I see is someone scrambling to stay relevant.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. She didn’t like that.
And then, because hell had a sense of humor, I leaned closer and whispered, “Let me give you a little hint, too. You know that night a few days ago, the one you stomped out of the dining hall?” I smirked. “Well, that night? He gave me the best fuck of his life and that was just the start of it.”
A gasp clawed at her throat, but she didn’t let it out.
“What a conquest he was…” I added, like a final dagger. “You were right, though. He is a good lay.”
And with that, I turned and walked away, my shawl clutched to my side.
I wasn't sure what got into me but I wanted to shove it in her face like she did. Maybe because my wolf also wanted it, to tell her the king belonged to us, and even though I knew this peace may be short-lived, I wanted it.
Stupid! I’d made a vow and already broke it.
I made it to my room before my composure faltered, and collapsed onto the bed, arms splayed wide, breath ragged. Then I screamed into my pillow.
A sharp, muffled yell.
I wanted the ache in my chest to mean something. But it didn’t. Because I didn’t even know what I felt anymore.
A knock interrupted my spiral.
“Luna? Apologies if I’m disturbing you. Are you alright?”
I sat up slowly, luckily, the tears hadn't fallen. “Come in.”
The door creaked open, and there she stood in her usual stoic posture, though her brows were drawn in concern.
“I could sense how tense you were,” she said gently, stepping into the room. “When speaking to Sir Cartier.”
Of course, she was watching.
“Nothing escapes you, does it, Moira?” I asked, trying for a wry smile.
“It’s the first time you’ve said my name.”
I paused. Really? I tilted my head, thoughtful. “Is it?”
She nodded once, lips twitching.
“Well,” I said, pushing off the bed, “maybe it’s time I started treating people better. An attitude adjustment, let’s call it.” I walked over to her and held her hands. “Let’s be friends. Like besties. Don’t you want that?”
Moira’s eyes sparkled faintly as she shook my hand. “I would like that very much. Thank you, Luna.”
“No no no.” I shook my head with a soft grin. “While we’re alone, call me by my name. Let’s do it properly. Just Kayla it should be.”
She chuckled.
Then I joined. Smiled—real ones. The kind that made the heavy air feel a little lighter.
I debated whether to mention Cartier or not. Ask what his role was when she said, “I came to let you know the King had returned and had requested your presence.”
My heart fluttered. I feared how my body would react to him.
“He’s in his office,” Moira added, with a hint of warmth in her otherwise even tone. “Said you could go to him whenever you’re ready.”
I nodded, smoothing a palm over my skirt. “Thanks, Moira.”
I took a deep breath.
I didn’t bother changing—I didn’t want to pretend I hadn’t just been curled up in a hurricane of my own feelings.
I knocked once.
“Come in.”
I stepped in.
“There you are.” He looked up from the stack of documents cluttering his desk. “You came so soon. What—missing me already? I thought you didn’t care.”
I instantly regretted coming this early.
“I don’t.”
Lance leaned back, chuckling. “Hmm. You’re turning red already.”
“No, I’m not,” I muttered, sitting up straighter.
“Okay then.” He reached into his coat pocket.
“So, why’d you want to see me?” I asked.
“Oh yeah.” He pulled out a small box and slid it across the table toward me. “Here. I got this for you.”
My fingers curled around the box as I opened it slowly. Inside sat a delicate white-steel chain with a silver star pendant. Against my will, my throat tightened.
“It’s…” My voice faltered. “It’s beautiful. You got this for me?”
I shouldn't— I never—
“Yes.”
I looked at him, studied the lines of his face, the shadows under his eyes, and for once, saw something softer there. Something unguarded. The cruel king? Or the man who sometimes looked at me like I was something worth protecting?
Slowly, I said, “I love it. Really.”
“So… are you going to put it on?”
I nodded.
And for a fleeting moment, I didn’t feel broken.
End of Auctioned to the Cruel King Chapter 38. Continue reading Chapter 39 or return to Auctioned to the Cruel King book page.