Auctioned to the Cruel King - Chapter 63: Chapter 63

Lance’s POV
Vivian’s words clung to the air long after she’d gone.
Why don't you try asking her first?
The suggestion shouldn't have bothered me. It was logical, reasonable even. But something about it gnawed at me, a persistent itch I couldn't quite scratch.
I stared into the bottom of my glass like it might offer answers, but all I saw was the same old reflection, warped, broken, too far down the line of redemption to turn back now.
I set the glass down.
There had been a moment back there, just a split breath, when I saw how Kayla looked at me. Not with fear. Not even with disgust. And that was the real problem. For all the control I held over this palace, over this pack, over death itself…her silence had carved a hollow into me I hadn’t been prepared for.
She had volunteered to be part of this war. And I’d let her walk into it. I’d let her bleed for it.
Why had she insisted on going?
That thought lingered. It burrowed deep, unsettling. I never really asked what she wanted. Not truly. Everything between us had been on my terms…my demand.
My hands dragged through my hair as I questioned why she wanted to come with us to Cleo. Or maybe she just wanted to understand me. To prove something.
I turned and left my office.
I was halfway to Kayla's room when I spotted Moira in the corridor. She looked up as I approached, her eyes widening slightly at my appearance. I probably looked like hell—blood-stained, wine-heavy, carrying the weight of my deeds like a second skin.
"How is she?" I asked.
“She’s okay. She’ll be fine.”
I stopped in front of her. “How’s the wound?”
“She’s healing fast. It wasn’t deep. Falco said the bandages would help speed things up. But…” Moira hesitated. “The physical wounds aren’t what I’m worried about.”
I knew what she meant even before she said it.
“She hasn’t said much. She’s just lying there, quiet. Whatever happened in that inn, it stayed with her. And… I think only you have the words to reach her.”
I didn’t answer at first. My jaw tensed. “I didn’t want her involved,” I muttered. “She forced her way into the discussion. Insisted on going.”
“And you used her,” Moira said, not unkindly—but not sparing the truth either.
“No. That’s not how it happened. She offered a clever plan, and you took it.” I exhaled sharply through my nose. “If I’d known it would turn out like that, I never would’ve allowed it.”
Moira tilted her head. “But did you truly not know?”
That silence between us said enough.
She sighed and stepped back, bowing like she’d crossed the line. “Then talk to her. Not as Alpha. Don’t argue. Just let her hear you.”
That had been the plan.
I nodded once. “Go eat. The kitchen’s probably prepped something by now. It’s almost dawn.”
“Thank you, Alpha.”
She turned, but then paused. “My king… can I tell you something?”
I stilled. “Of course.”
“Um... I..." She hesitated, her fingers twisting in the fabric of her uniform. "The other morning, I... I'm really not sure if I want to tell you."
Before I could press her further, Vivian’s voice cut through the air.
"What are you both whispering about in the hallway?"
She approached with her bandaged hand slung across her chest, supported by a brace that climbed up her shoulder.
“Where are you coming from?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Am I on trial now?” she said breezily. “Come on, Moira. I need your help. With something urgent. Maybe even scandalous.”
“We were in the middle of something.”
Vivian paused dramatically. “Were you?” she asked Moira.
Moira hesitated. “…Just remembered my birthday’s coming up. Wanted to request a few days off.”
It was a lie. Transparent and sudden. But with Vivian there, I didn’t press it. “I’ll think about it,” I said.
“See?” Vivian grinned—the kind that touched her eyes. “Come along, Moira. I need you to help me scratch an itch.” She looked at me, “Is it me, or hasn't Ric’s been looking extra delicious lately?”
She waved a hand. “Don’t bother answering that.”
They disappeared down the hall.
I waited a beat longer, then turned toward Kayla’s door. My hand hovered over the wood before I knocked.
Without waiting for a response, I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was bathed in soft bedside lamplight, casting shadows across the floor. Kayla was lying on the bed, propped up against pillows, and she turned to look at me as I entered.
“You couldn’t wait for a ‘come in’?” She asked, her voice carefully neutral.
“I should leave.”
“No,” she said, softer now. “It’s fine.”
I stepped in, my gaze drifting to the faint bandage on her thigh, the nightcloth was…simple and loose. Her hair was pulled back messily, eyes ringed with the weight of a night spent not sleeping.
“How are you feeling?”
She shrugged. “Falco’s drugs are doing their job. It’s like the pain never happened.”
I nodded slowly. “We’ve been calling him in more often than we should.”
“Yeah…” She looked away. “He even gave me custom-made bandages to match my… uh, never mind.”
A ghost of something that might have been amusement flickered through me. "I told him to make sure he provides everything and anything you need. Can I sit?"
It was hard to tell what was going on in her mind. Her face was a careful mask, giving nothing away.
She hesitated, then nodded. “Sure.”
I sat down beside her, the mattress barely dipping beneath my weight. Silence stretched between us.
“I came to apologize,” I said finally. “For what you saw. And what it made you feel.”
She didn’t respond right away. Then—
“That’s not why I was upset.”
I looked at her. “Then why?”
Her jaw tensed. “Because it didn’t have to happen that way. There could’ve been a peaceful way out. No blood.”
“He had a knife to your throat. He pulled you by the hair.”
She met my gaze, unflinching. “And he asked for a counter-offer. Which meant he was willing to talk. That he could be negotiated with. He wanted a way out—one good enough to let him disappear forever. He wanted to bargain,” she added slowly. “But we never brought one to the table.”
But we'd had none to offer.
Ric hadn't proposed it after realizing that the situation didn't need it anymore.
"Even if we had decided to settle, maybe give him a counter-offer," I said slowly, "who's to say he wouldn't come back and repeat the same shenanigans all over again? We'd be back where we started."
"We won't know, would we?" Her voice was quiet, but there was steel underneath. "His guts are outside his body now."
Clearly.
I wanted to lie, to tell her that I'd exhausted every option, that violence had been the only way. But the truth was more complicated than that.
I had wanted Cleo dead. The bastard had made things complex, and my dreams had been recurring ever since Vivian mentioned his return. I hated that it was he who'd made me break my vow, hated that my carefully constructed walls had crumbled because of a small-time criminal with delusions of grandeur.
"You were in there," I said finally. "And it constantly ate me up, the thought of impending danger to you, surrounded by all those wolves and lycans..."
I saw her eyes soften. “Still, you could have trusted me. I had Alaric, and I..." She paused. "Alaric likes to play the part of seeming weak, but I don't think he is or ever was."
She was right about that too. Alaric could have taken Cleo down himself, along with a couple of the men there. But there had been too many when I’d started to eliminate them while they’d conversed with Cleo. The numbers had been against us from the start.
Silence fell between us, but that look was still in her eyes—the one I wasn't sure what it meant.
“I’m sorry,” I said. And for the first time in years, I meant every syllable.
She pulled me into her arms. I let myself relax into it.
She pulled back just enough to look at me. The movement wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t rehearsed or forced. Just... instinct.
And when her lips touched mine, it felt like a balm and a reward. Like a tether. Like something inevitable. Something that had been pulling at both of us since the beginning but only now dared to surface.
Her lips were warm. Soft. Slightly chapped from the night’s chill, but still maddeningly addictive. I tasted the faintest echo of wine—my wine—on her mouth and didn’t pull away.
Took every second of it like a man starved.
She sat back, and with a quiet breath, pulled her nightshirt over her head and let it fall beside her on the bed. Her skin caught what little light came from the lamp… threading across her collarbone, the soft slope of her breasts.
My mouth dried.
I stood and slid off the heavy jacket I still wore. It hit the floor with a dull thud. I didn't take my eyes off her.
“Can I ask you one thing?” I murmured, voice rough.
“What?”
“You’re on Falco’s drugs, right?”
“Yeah.”
My belt came undone.
“You can still cum on the drugs, right?”
That pulled a crooked smile from her lips. “Get over here,” she said.
I leaned in and kissed her again—this time slower, deeper. Her hand found my neck, fingers threading into my hair, tugging lightly as her lips parted for me.
She moaned softly against my mouth, and the sound went straight through me, leaving no part of me untouched.
Her thighs parted slightly beneath the sheets.