The Dragon's Lycan King

Chapter 7: The Claim

We were at a standoff, Callum staring Marcus down and Marcus not backing away.

"Fine, have it your way," Callum growled and in front of the man who had discarded me, Callum’s large hand trailed down the side of my sapphire dress. He bunched the heavy, expensive silk tightly in his massive fist, aggressively hiking it high up my thigh. The cool mountain air briefly hit my bare, deep-toned skin, but it was immediately replaced by the scorching, branding heat of his rough palm.

I gasped out, entirely unsure what I actually needed. For him to stop or for him to give me more?

"You're soaking wet for me, little flame," he growled right against my ear, his sharp teeth lightly grazing my sensitive earlobe. His large hand slid unapologetically higher, pushing past the lacy edge of my undergarments. His thick, calloused fingers effortlessly found the slick, heavily swollen folds between my thighs. I arched my back violently, a sharp, uncontainable cry tearing from my lips as he slid two long, thick digits deep inside my dripping, aching core.

The public exposure, the sheer, unimaginable audacity of the act, was completely paralyzing. Marcus' terrified eyes were forced to watch the untouchable King physically claim the rejected, wolf-less outcast. He pumped his thick fingers inside me with slow, deliberate, agonizingly deep strokes, his rough thumb pressing firmly and relentlessly against my most sensitive bundle of nerves. My legs completely gave out from the intense pleasure, but his powerful, unyielding arm wrapped tightly around my waist, holding me effortlessly suspended against his massive body.

"Look at her, Marcus!" Callum boomed, his voice echoing through the stunned, dead-silent grounds like a war horn, even as he continued to ruthlessly, rhythmically finger me. "You wanted a fragile, pathetic creature to stroke your delicate ego. You left a true queen starving in the dirt. Now watch her unravel completely for a real king."

I sobbed openly, burying my burning face deep into the crook of his muscular neck. The physical pleasure was completely blinding, a chaotic storm of absolute agony and pure ecstasy intertwined. Every single thrust of his thick fingers ignited the hidden, dormant magic deep within my blood. A terrifying, searing heat built in my lower belly, radiating rapidly outwards. I clamped my inner muscles down incredibly hard on his invading fingers, shamelessly chasing the friction, utterly ruined under his terrifying, absolute control.

"That’s it, clamp down on my hand, little flame," he praised darkly, his thumb increasing its wicked, circular pressure. "Shatter for me. Give me everything."

I broke. The climax ripped through me with the devastating force of a hurricane. My back bowed sharply, my toes curling tightly in my shoes as wave after wave of intense, blinding orgasm wracked my entire body. I cried out loudly, my voice raw and entirely uninhibited, my slick internal muscles pulsing relentlessly and powerfully around his fingers. He held me tightly through the violent tremors, his steel gray eyes glaring in absolute, terrifying triumph over the top of my head, silently daring any man to stand up and challenge his explicit claim.

When I finally went completely limp against him, panting heavily and flushed from head to toe, Callum slowly, deliberately withdrew his wet hand. He lifted it to his mouth and licked his own slick fingers slowly, his glowing eyes locked dead onto Marcus’s devastated, utterly horrified expression.

"She is mine," Callum declared loudly, the finality in his dark tone echoing like a heavy gavel striking solid stone. "Her blood. Her body. Her fire. I am taking her to the Obsidian Spire. Anyone who steps foot on my sacred mountain to retrieve her will be slaughtered slowly."

Callum didn’t wait for Marcus to find his courage. With a grunt of effortless power, he swung me onto the back of the massive black stallion, mounting behind me in a single fluid motion. The heat radiating from him was intoxicating, a physical weight that pressed against my back and sent tremors through my exhausted limbs.

"Chrissie! Don't let him!" Marcus’s voice cracked, a pathetic, high-pitched sound that lacked any of his usual Alpha authority. He looked small standing in the shadow of the grand hall, a discarded king of a crumbling hill.

Callum leaned down, his lips brushing against the sensitive shell of my ear, his stubble grazing my skin. "Don't look back," he growled, the vibration of his voice rattling my very bones. "There is nothing left for you in that graveyard."

He dug his heels into the stallion’s flanks. The beast let out a thunderous neigh that sounded more like a roar and lunged forward into the mist. We moved with a terrifying, preternatural speed that blurred the world into streaks of silver and black.

As we plunged deeper into the ancient, forbidden woods of the Lycan territory, Callum’s grip tightened, pulling me flush against him until I could feel every ripple of his strength.

"You're mine now," he whispered against my neck, the words a promise and a threat all at once. "And by the time we reach the Iron Citadel, you’ll realize that Marcus was never even a shadow of the man you truly deserve."