Auctioned to the Cruel King - Chapter 40: Chapter 40

Lance’s POV
Sleep has become rare these past two days.
I lay rigid against the silk sheets, staring at the ridiculous ceiling while my mind churned with a singular, poisonous thought: Cartier had visited her. The bastard had sought out Kayla when I wasn't there to intervene. The casual way she'd mentioned it only made it worse.
Cartier didn't make social calls. He collected debts and secrets with equal fervor and the fact that he'd sought her out meant he was hunting.
The question was: what had he scented on her?
I'd played it off in front of her but now, in solitude, the thought festered.
I groaned.
I could only force—!!
A sharp throb suddenly pulsed beneath my sternum. Gods!
It beat again—twice. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
My eyes went wide, pupils dilating as the familiar yet terrible sensation crashed over me. Not now. Not yet. My hand flew to my chest, instinctively searching for the source.
“Fuck—”
Then came the heat.
My veins ignited as if molten silver coursed through them. I gritted my teeth, pressing into the bed, dragging in a breath that felt too shallow for lungs that had once roared louder than any Alpha’s.
My claws burst through the tips of my fingers, unbidden, ripping the edge of the sheets as I braced myself. Fabric tore under my grip. My back arched upwards.
“Shit, not now!”
Blood soaked the fabric beneath my hands, but I barely felt it over the war raging inside my skull.
Let me out.
My beast snarled beneath my skin, raking its claws along the inside of my ribs, demanding to be let out.
I focused on control—on the cold.
Forcing myself upright, I staggered across the room. I threw open the tall windows, welcoming the icy wind that slapped against my face. The mountain air bit into my skin. Ugh. The taste of copper filled my mouth. I'd bitten my tongue hard enough to draw blood.
I leaned against the window frame, staring down at the darkened courtyard. Breath. Breath. Breath. In—out. In—out. Still, I couldn’t ignore the phantom heartbeat beneath my skin.
The first glass of water went down in desperate gulps, then a second, then a third. My throat felt like sandpaper, my mouth dry as bone. Water spilled down my chin, soaking the collar of my shirt.
When the coughing fit started, I stumbled toward the bathroom and bathed until the water ran cold and the sweat had rinsed from my skin.
When morning broke, I dressed in layers of black, pressed and perfect, buttoned over a body that trembled beneath the surface. No one would see the cracks.
Least of all, her.
“Enter,” I said without looking up when the knock came.
Moira stepped inside, head bowed, hands clasped in front of her.
“You called for me, my king?”
I caught the way her eyes flickered over my face. I'd managed perhaps an hour of sleep after the bath, and I was certain it showed.
“I did.”
Moira reached forward.
“Report,” I said.
Her lips twitched. “The Luna, though still cautious in understanding how the palace operates, is adjusting at an incredible pace. There have been the usual provocations from Vivian, but I would suggest we bring her to heel before—"
“Leave her to me," I interrupted, finally raising my eyes to meet hers. "I'll handle that matter personally. Anything else?"
"Nothing exceptionally significant." A pause, and then she added almost as an afterthought, "I believe Alaric recently spoke with her about your wolf. About your... difficulties in controlling—"
"Stop."
The word came out sharp.
Moira's spine straightened, her expression carefully neutral.
"Forgive me, my King."
Why would he do that?
“Heavens…” I stood slowly, moving to the window. I needed air, the office was starting to feel as stuffy as my room.
"My King, I believe she's becoming more aware regardless—"
“Still." I turned back to face her, and whatever she saw in my expression made her take a half-step backward. "I'll need to have a word with him about overstepping his bounds." Watching her, I asked. "Anything else? Perhaps a visit from Cartier?"
Moira's silence was answer enough.
"Forgive me, my King—"
"Forgiveness?" My voice rose. "Your job was to watch her. Guard her. Be seen and not seen when necessary. That's precisely why I asked that you remain with her at all times."
"I would’ve prevented him from meeting with her, but I was delayed. She'd sent me on an errand before his arrival." Moira's composure cracked slightly. "I only observed from a distance, but the Luna appeared uncomfortable during their discussion. I believe he knows something and may have used it to—"
“Enough.”
That's who he is. I returned to my desk, gripping the edge hard enough to leave marks in the wood. “Information is his greatest currency. That's how he manipulates and bends people to his will. There are reasons Cartier isn't here at my side despite his considerable talents and service to the crown.” I fixed Moira with a stare that could cut glass. "All of this you should already be aware of."
“Do you remember the night we met?”
She straightened. “Yes. Yes, my king.”
“Your home was gone. Ash and smoke. You crawled through the wreckage on hands and knees. It was a wet night, rain soaking through your clothes as you knelt in the ruins. How I extend my hand to help you rise from the mud?"
Her throat worked as she swallowed.
"What was the first thing you asked of me?”
"To help me kill him," she whispered.
"And in return?"
"I become your tool. Your weapon to wield as you see fit."
I took a step closer, gaze locked on hers. "Have you lost that drive? Have you forgotten your purpose?”
“No,” she whispered.
“Then do not fail me again.”
She bowed her head. I exhaled slowly, some of the tension leaving my shoulders.
A knock interrupted us.
“I said I wasn’t to be disturbed,” I snapped.
“My king, it’s Alaric.”
I waved Moira toward the exit. "You may go."
She bowed and slipped out as Alaric entered, his expression grim. He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.
"Anything you'd like to tell me, Alaric?"
He had the grace to look uncomfortable. "I understand you're angry—"
"Angry?” I turned towards the side table and started to pour myself water. “I'm beyond angry. I should order you sent below immediately for what you've done."
His face went pale only slightly. "I'm sorry, my King. But understand, it was because I care about you and our pack. About the Luna. I wanted to prevent what happened last time from occurring again."
My jaw clenched at the mention of last time. I hated when anyone brought up my beast, the loss of control that came with each full moon. The thing that made me more monster than a man when the lunar cycle reached its peak. I'd been on edge since yesterday's episode, and his casual reference to my weakness made my vision darken around the edges.
“You don’t decide who knows my afflictions.”
“She is your mate—”
“She is not fully,” I growled. “Not yet. And certainly not in the way that warrants this kind of betrayal.”
“It wasn’t betrayal. It was a precaution.”
The glass cup suddenly crushed in my hand. Water and blood spilled between my fingers. My claws had extended again without permission.
Alaric didn’t flinch, but his shoulders tensed.
“You see?” I murmured. “This is what you fear, isn’t it? That I’ll snap one day. That I’ll tear down my own walls.”
He didn’t answer.
“I trusted you, Alaric.”
“I serve you still.”
I dropped the bloodied shards onto the floor. “Go to the physician's cell," I ordered without turning around. "Bring me the elixir he's been preparing. And if it isn't ready, put a stake through his heart.”
He left without another word.
“James!”
The butler entered swiftly.
"Have this cleaned up.”
I sank into my chair, running my left hand through my hair. I’d be damned. I feel like shit. Even now, amidst the mess, I craved her scent.