Auctioned to the Cruel King - Chapter 44: Chapter 44

Kayla’s POV
The silence had teeth. And it gnawed at me the moment I was alone, chewing into the raw edges of my soul, scraping bone and marrow until I couldn’t breathe.
I curled on the floor, knees hugged to my chest, the cold from the marble tiles seeping into my skin. It didn’t matter. Nothing did. Not the blanket draped over my shoulders or the tea Helene had left behind. Not even the news that I could—finally—have a pup inside me.
Because that may never come to pass.
Lance would make sure of that.
I had cried until my throat was raw and my chest felt hollow. Until my eyes stung and my lips trembled from the ache of unspoken apologies. Not just to Lance, but to myself. For being so weak. For hoping.
I could have gone to Vivian, I told myself. Ask her if she had done it, why she had done it, if she hated me that much.
But what was the point? Everything said in the council chamber had been true. Twisted, yes—but true enough to be weaponized. And I’d stood there, mute. Frozen.
By the time I heard the soft knock of a tray being set outside my door, the sky had turned dark. Moira didn’t say anything when she brought me food. Just a glance. Pity and exhaustion etched into her face.
But I’d begged her to tell me where Lance was and after a few hesitations and pleas, he gave in. But had warned me not to go see him and to wait for his episodes to end. That cleared the doubt of her not knowing of it before.
She’d known all along but had lied. Or maybe had been ordered not to.
She left after that.
And that should have been the end of it.
But something inside me snapped. A sharp, strange pulse in my chest that wasn’t strength, but desperation. And for once, my wolf urged me. Pushed me. Maybe I was mad to have listened. Maybe I wanted to die. Maybe I just couldn’t live another second in this purgatory of silence and shame.
So I rose.
Barefoot. Still wearing the robe I’d woken up in. My fingers trembling, breath shallow. I left my chambers and followed the corridor, letting my wolf—or madness—pull me forward.
Luckily Moira and the guard weren't at my front door. I should be running away, Lance was locked up and more focus was on him, to hell with Alaric’s words, I’d die one way or another. Instead, I walked toward the King’s wing, heart hammering, feet numb.
To the place no one dared enter now.
The moment the guards at the outer post saw me, their eyes widened.
“I need to see him,” I said.
The older one stepped forward, frowning. “My lady, you don’t understand—”
“I do,” I said, cutting him off, my voice like cracked porcelain. “I understand that if he wanted me dead, I’d already be buried. But if he wakes and finds out you stopped me, I promise—whatever I do in there will be less brutal than what he’ll do to you.”
They exchanged a glance.
“She’s lost her mind,” one of them muttered.
“No,” I said. “I only want to see the king.”
After a tense pause, the older one grunted and turned to the iron door. “Even if we wanted, we can’t open the door, only Ric has the key.”
Shit!
“Where is he?”
One of the guards looked over my shoulder and froze.
“Leave us,” Alaric said.
They did.
And when those cold eyes turned to me, all I did was stand my ground. Chin held up. I wasn't sure what I was trying to prove, but I did.
After the thick silence, Alaric groaned. Without words, he unlocked it with a thick key and stepped aside. The iron door groaned as it opened, revealing a tunnel of cold air and utter blackness.
I walked in.
No turning back.
The door clanged shut behind me with a finality that echoed through the stone corridor. The scent hit me first—raw earth, iron, musk. Something feral and wild. Something not quite lycan.
Goosebumps prickled over my skin.
I couldn’t see. Not properly. The darkness clung to me like a second skin. My wolf stirred uneasily inside me, whimpering. Not out of fear, but... anticipation?
My steps slowed.
He was here. I could feel him.
The presence in the room was unbearable—twisting the air, thickening it, dragging every breath from my lungs like smoke. The same haunting aura I’d felt the day he’d placed the necklace on my neck—wild, inhuman, untamable—wrapped around me now, squeezing tight.
“Lance?” I whispered, barely audible. My voice trembled. “Please... I just—I just want to talk—”
I wasn't sure that was my reason, but I’d said it anyway. My wolf had wanted to be here, desired it and I believe being here might well save me, or kill me.
Silence answered.
I turned, heart pounding. That pulsing heat flared again between my thighs, unwelcome and shameful. What the hell was wrong with me?
The fear should’ve numbed everything else. But it didn’t. My breath stuttered. My body oddly started to burn.
“Lance,” I tried again, louder this time. “Please. I need you to listen. I—”
The air shifted.
I froze.
Something moved in the dark. A whisper of sound. Then another. Footsteps—no, claws. Dragging. Heavy. Predatory.
My breath caught.
A low growl echoed through the chamber. My pulse exploded. The hair on the back of my neck rose. He was here. He was close.
I turned just as a figure emerged from the shadows. Surprisingly more huger than I’d seen before. His Lycan form towered above me, massive and monstrous. His glowing eyes burned like molten gold in the dark. The ripples of muscle beneath fur glistened with sweat. He looked nothing like the Lance that had caged me in the woods.
My lips parted in a gasp.
Before I could take a step back, a blur of movement—and I was on the ground, slammed against the cold stone. The impact knocked the breath from my lungs.
I choked, coughing, trying to scream but no sound came. Or maybe I didn't want to scream. I didn't want to be scared. I wanted—
Claws.
Long, wicked claws tore through my robe like it was paper. The sound of ripping fabric echoed. My body arched, exposed to the freezing air, trembling.
“Lance,” I whimpered. “Please—it’s me—don’t—”
He growled.
And I shut my mouth. That heat came again and my lower body throbbed.
I can’t be…
His snout hovered over me, growling low. Sniffing. Over and over and over, his nose ran across my belly, my ribs, up—up to my breast. A wet, hot tongue licked up my skin, stopping at my throat.
I sobbed, shaking. Not just from fear. But from the confusing, humiliating heat between my legs. My body—traitorous, aching—was reacting. Wet. Wanting. Despite everything.
And my wolf was pulled to this thing…to him. She’d never done that before, not this much.
“Stop,” I whispered. “Please, Lance. This isn’t you. This—this isn’t—”
But I knew. I knew exactly what it was.
Vivian’s words came back, cruel and clear: He’ll need to take. To kill. To fuck.
This wasn’t the man I’d come to know. This wasn’t even the cruel king the realm feared.
And I had caused this shift.
His snarl deepened.
I reached up, trembling, trying to push him off. “You don’t want this,” I breathed. “You’re not yourself. Lance, you have to fight this—you’re stronger than this—”
He growled louder, the sound shaking the stone beneath us. My legs kicked, trying to wriggle away. I couldn’t move. Then his claws scraped over my thighs—spreading them wide.
“No—” I cried, voice cracking. “Please, wait—just—just listen—”
But he wasn’t listening.
And gods help me... part of me didn’t want him to.
I hated myself for the way my hips arched. For the pulse that beat between my legs like a war drum. This wasn’t desire—it was madness. Some twisted arch I never known.
He pressed his cold nose against my slick entrance and inhaled deeply, groaning like a beast in heat. Then he mounted me, in all his massive, brutal, terrifying appearance—and thrust into me with a single, forceful motion.
I screamed.
Pain tore through me, sharp and blinding. My fingers clawed at the stone. My back arched. My entire body convulsed.
Lance growled.