Auctioned to the Cruel King - Chapter 75: Chapter 75

Kayla’s POV
I shouldn't have come. The thought had circled my mind for the past three minutes, looping like a noose I couldn’t loosen.
I stood just outside Lance's room, one hand lightly pressed against the carved frame of the door, the other clenched at my side. My fingers itched to knock, but I hadn’t.
What was I even doing here?
Checking up on him, I told myself.
But the truth scratched deeper. Beneath the excuses. Beneath the aching silence that had stretched between us since the last bitter exchange. Since the look in his eyes last night—one that had lingered too long, carved too deep.
I wasn't here for duty. Or concern.
My wolf had dragged me here.
Before I could overthink it again, the door opened.
Alaric stepped out, sweat clinging to his temple like he’d been training or arguing—or both.
I stood straighter. “Hey.”
He raised a brow, waiting.
“I just…” I fought not to fumble over the words. “I heard he hadn't come out today. Thought I’d check on him.”
Alaric tilted his head slightly. “He’s in. Just went into the bathroom. Might be coming down with something. Probably a flu. Doesn’t look serious.”
“Right,” I nodded, pretending like I wasn’t already nervous. “Thanks.”
He stepped aside without pressing further. I walked past him, careful not to brush against his shoulder. The moment I crossed into Lance’s room, the door closing behind me, the air shifted. Muffled by shadows and scent. The curtains were drawn, the room dim, smelling faintly of cedarwood and alcohol.
I walked to the window, pulled back the thick velvet drapes. Sunlight spilled in, cutting across the marble floor. Dust motes shimmered in the golden light. He’d been here. Alone. That fact shouldn't have made something inside me twist.
I turned, letting the breeze from the opened panes cool my skin. Then I sat. Not on the edge of the bed—that would suggest something else—but on the cushioned chair by the hearth.
The sound of water stopped.
A second later, the bathroom door creaked open.
He stepped out, towel slung low on his hips, droplets of water sliding down the planes of his chest. His skin glistened like marble kissed by rain, sharp angles, corded muscle, and taut flesh. His hair was damp and curling at the ends, darker from the wash, and his eyes—they pinned me where I sat.
I should’ve looked away.
I didn’t.
No matter how many times this man had touched me. No matter how many nights he’d dragged pleasure out of me like it was a punishment, the sheer size of him still left me breathless.
And wet.
Which probably made me a whore. A traitorous one at that, because I came here to check on his health, not imagine how deep he could bury himself inside me.
I forced myself to look away, a flush rising to my cheeks.
“You looked,” he said, voice low.
I flinched.
“You didn’t stop looking. But now that I’ve noticed, you’re embarrassed?”
“I’m not—embarrassed,” I lied.
He stepped further into the room. “Then why look away?”
“I—” A beat passed. I straightened my spine, trying to change the subject. “I heard you haven’t left your room since morning. It’s unlike you.”
There. That sounded reasonable.
His brow arched faintly, but his expression remained unreadable. He walked to the side cushion where some neat clothes lay. The muscles in his back flexed as he pulled out a short.
“So… you came to check on me.”
That was the truth. Or at least the part of it I was willing to admit. What I wouldn’t say was that it had pulled me from sleep. That I’d woken with an ache in my chest.
“I’m fine,” he said. “Ric’s calling the doctor to check on me. Probably a flu. Nothing more.”
I nodded. “Right. That’s good.” Then cleared my throat. “Which doctor exactly?”
“Helene.” His tone had been casual, but I heard the shift in mine.
“…What?”
“She’s a doctor of the court,” he replied.
“Yes,” I said carefully, trying to keep my expression blank. “But why her?”
He turned to face me fully now. “Because Falco is away. He won’t be back for another few weeks. And Helene’s the only one left with proper rank.”
I could feel it, the heat rising up my spine. Not some irrational, childish heat.
His brows lifted slightly. “Is there a problem I should know about?”
“No,” I said, and then immediately, “Yes. I mean—no, not really. It’s just… she’s young. And attractive. And Lycans with bodies that hot shouldn’t be alone in rooms.” I cleared my throat. Fuck! What was I even saying?
“Is that jealousy?”
My heart kicked against my ribs. “It’s not that.”
“Oh?” His eyes glittered.
The tension in my chest wasn’t jealousy. Not exactly. It was fear of him discovering what I hadn’t yet told him. Fear of him knowing I was carrying his child before I’d even figured out what it meant for me. For us. For this mess between us.
He arched a brow. “So it is jealousy.”
I glared at him. “It’s not funny.”
“It is,” he said calmly. “I never thought of you as the jealous type.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Lance stepped closer. “You hear about my past, especially Vivian. About everything I used to be. And yet… you barely blinked.”
“I’m not supposed to get upset about your past,” I said. “You’re allowed to have one. I do too.”
A pause. Then his lips curved into something like approval. Like some weight was lifted off his shoulders. “It gladdens me to hear you say that.”
He pulled on the pair of shorts in one smooth motion. My eyes couldn’t help but catch the line of his hip, the soft V of muscle that disappeared beneath the fabric. The bulge straining against it. I looked away, just barely.
Lance’s head tilted. “You smell different,” he suddenly said.
My stomach dipped. “What?”
He sniffed the air once, casually. But I knew better. There was nothing casual about a lycan’s sense of smell. Especially his.
“You do,” he murmured, turning to face me. “Not bad. Just… different. New. You need a drink?”
I almost cursed. Of course. He would pick up on it soon—sooner than I was ready for. The change in my scent. The subtle shift in hormones. “No,” I said too quickly.
His eyes sharpened. “See?” he said quietly. “Same thing you did last night.”
“I—” I cut off.
My gaze fell on the line of his hips again, where the bulge in his shorts strained slightly with each breath. And just to drag this conversation to something else, I blurted— “You’re… hard.”
That was very…very stupid of me.
“Is that an invitation?”
My lips parted. Heat slammed into my cheeks. “What—what kind of question is that?”
“You heard me.”
“I didn’t come here for that,” I stammered, rising slightly. “I came to check up on you. To see how you’re doing. That’s all.”
He stepped forward once, twice…the space between us vanishing with every step. “You haven’t checked anything, though,” he murmured. “Just sat there, staring at me like you want to devour me. If you really came to check on me, it would’ve been up close.”
I backed up a step.
He didn’t touch me, but I could feel the heat of him.
“Y-you’re burning up,” I whispered. “You should see a doctor first.”
His gaze dropped to my mouth. Then to the neckline of my shirt. “I’ll make do with the one standing in front of me.”
His hands found my waist before I could move again. He tugged. And suddenly, he was sitting and my chest was against his face, his breath washing over the curve of my breast through the thin fabric of my top.
He looked up at me, the hunger in his eyes thinly leashed.
“You’re sick,” I breathed. “You’re gonna get me sick too.”
“Then we’ll both be doomed,” he said, voice low and hungry. “You can’t just show up like this and expect me to jerk off again while thinking of you.”
The words slammed into me.
“Again?” I echoed, breath stuttering.
His mouth curved. “What, you thought it was another in my head? Fuck no.” And then he bit me.
Right through the cloth. His teeth grazed over my nipple and I gasped—loud, unbidden. The shock of it sent my hips jerking forward. He bit again. Then the other breast. His hand kneaded while his mouth tortured, and fuck—, it felt so much sharper than usual. My body was too sensitive. Everything was.
“Fuck,” he muttered, like he felt it too. “Your nipples are larger—”
His other hand slid behind my thigh and lifted me in a sudden motion, placing me on the cushion before I could even protest. Not that I tried.
His cock pressed against my center, separated only by too-thin fabric, and when his hand dove between my legs, under my panties—
He groaned. “Fuck, Kayla…”
I bit my bottom lip, hard, as his fingers slid through the slick heat.
“To get this wet,” he muttered, rubbing lazy circles against my clit, “when you just refused me seconds ago?”
I let out a shaky breath. “I didn’t refuse,” I whispered.
His eyes snapped up to mine.
“I just—I didn’t mean to come here for this. But you’re…”
He kissed the corner of my jaw. Dragged his teeth up the line of my throat. “I’m what?”
My hips rolled against his hand. “Fucking impossible.”
A dark sound left his throat. He shoved two fingers inside me, slow but deep, curling them just right. My entire body arched.
“I can smell it,” he said, tone shifting—something in it sharp, feral. “The change in you. You smell like…” He didn’t finish, but then his fingers slowed. His eyes narrowed. But I reached down and wrapped a trembling hand around his wrist.
“Don’t stop.”
“Kayla.”
“Please,” I breathed.