Marked by the Lycan King

21

Matteo strode through the front doors of the villa, Butler William had just returned from the morning market, arms laden with bags, and offered a respectful nod.

“Welcome back, sir.”

Matteo returned the nod but didn’t slow down. His jaw was tight, pulse already quickening as he headed straight for the east wing. He stopped in front of the door opposite his own bedroom. Even through the thick wood, he could smell her, warm vanilla and something softer, like sun-warmed skin after a long day. It hit him like a drug, making his heart thud harder against his ribs. He knew he should knock. He knew better. But his hand was already turning the knob.

The room was empty, but her presence lingered everywhere. Sunlight spilled across the bed where a small pile of torn, dirt-streaked clothes lay. He walked over and picked them up without thinking. The fabric was still slightly damp from whatever ordeal she’d been through. He brought them closer to his face and inhaled deeply, eyes half-closing. It was irrational. Borderline creepy. But he couldn’t stop himself. That scent wrapped around his chest and pulled.

The sound of the bathroom door opening made him freeze.

Myra stepped out with a towel wrapped around her body, her dark hair wet and dripping down her back. The towel was too small, clearly not meant for someone with her curves, and it barely covered the tops of her thighs. Water still glistened on her shoulders and collarbones. She stopped dead when she saw him standing there, holding her ruined clothes like some kind of obsessed fool.

For a second, neither of them spoke.

Matteo’s throat went dry. His gaze dragged over her, slowly, helplessly, from the damp strands clinging to her neck, down to the way the towel clung to the swell of her breasts and the flare of her hips. His body reacted instantly, heat flooding south as his muscles tensed. He could feel the primal part of him stirring, pushing against his restraint.

Myra’s cheeks flushed deep pink. She clutched the towel tighter, but the movement only made it slip a fraction, revealing the soft curve of her cleavage. She quickly adjusted it, biting her lower lip.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice quieter than she probably intended. There was surprise in it, and a thread of nervousness.

Matteo didn’t answer right away. He dropped the clothes back onto the bed and took a slow step toward her. Then another. The air between them felt thick, charged.

“I… I came to check on you,” he finally said, his voice low and rough. “After everything that happened.”

Myra’s breathing had grown shallow. She could feel her body responding in ways that embarrassed her, her n*****s tightening against the towel, warmth pooling low in her belly. This wasn’t like her. She wasn’t the type to lose control so easily. But the way he was looking at her, dark eyes intense and hungry, made her knees feel unsteady.

“Uhmm… can you leave?” she whispered, though the words lacked conviction. Her body was betraying her, heating up under his stare.

Matteo’s hands flexed at his sides. He could smell her arousal now, faint but unmistakable, mixing with her natural scent. It was driving him insane. He reminded himself that she saw him as her rescuer, her savior not… this. But his feet kept moving until he was right in front of her, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her damp skin.

He reached out slowly, giving her time to pull away, and rested his hands on her waist. The towel was the only barrier between them. Myra shivered but didn’t step back. Instead, she leaned in slightly, almost instinctively.

His fingers traced upward, brushing along her neck, then down to her shoulder. When his thumb grazed the top of her breast, she inhaled sharply. A rush of heat shot through her, stronger and more consuming than anything she’d felt before, even with Aiden.

Matteo leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. “What dirty thoughts are running through that head of yours, Myra?”

She shook her head quickly, embarrassed. “There are no thoughts.”

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against her skin. “Liar. I saw the way you were looking at me.” His lips pressed against the side of her neck, gentle at first, then with a light scrape of teeth along her earlobe.

Myra’s grip on the towel faltered. It slipped down to her waist, exposing her full breasts. Matteo pulled back just enough to look, his eyes darkening with raw need. He cupped one breast, thumb circling the stiff n****e, while his mouth descended on the other, sucking hard enough to pull a broken moan from her throat.

“Oh god…” she gasped, her fingers threading into his hair.

He was losing control. The taste of her skin, the little sounds she made, it was better than anything he’d imagined. He kissed a trail down her stomach, then lifted her easily and carried her to the bed. When he laid her down, the towel fell away completely, leaving her bare beneath him.

Myra’s face burned as she lay there, completely exposed. She watched him pull his shirt off, revealing the hard planes of his chest and abdomen, defined muscle without an ounce of softness. Her eyes drifted lower to the very obvious bulge straining against his trousers. Her mind wandered to dangerous places: how he would feel stretching her, filling her. She pressed her thighs together, ashamed of how wet she already was.

Matteo dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed. He kissed the inside of her thigh, working his way up slowly, teasingly. When his tongue finally dragged along her slick folds, Myra’s back arched off the mattress.

“f**k—” she breathed, one hand flying to his hair again.

He took his time, licking and sucking with focused hunger, occasionally sliding a finger inside her. Myra’s hips rocked against his mouth as pleasure built higher and higher, until it crashed over her in a sudden, shaking wave. She came hard, thighs trembling around his head, a raw moan tearing from her lips.

Matteo lifted his head, lips glistening with her release, and gave her a wicked, satisfied smile. He rose to his feet and reached for his belt.

But Myra suddenly sat up, catching his wrist. Her chest was still heaving, eyes glassy with lingering pleasure.

“We’re… even now,” she said softly, voice uncertain.

Matteo blinked, the words hitting him like cold water. “Even?”

She nodded, pulling her knees up slightly to cover herself. “You saved me. This… this was my way of saying thank you.”

For a moment, something raw and painful flashed across his face, hurt, frustration, and a flash of anger. He stepped back, running a hand through his hair.

“You think this is repayment?” His voice was rough, almost bitter. “That I want you like some kind of transaction?”

Myra looked down, suddenly feeling very small and exposed. “I didn’t mean—”

“f**k,” Matteo cursed under his breath. He yanked his shirt back on, movements sharp and angry. Without another word, he turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him hard enough to make the frame rattle.

Myra sat on the bed, still naked, heart pounding as the silence settled around her. Her body was still buzzing from what had just happened, but a heavy knot of guilt and confusion twisted in her stomach.

What the hell had she just done?