Marked by the Lycan King

41

“Behave,” Matteo warned, his voice rough with barely contained desire. The restless woman in his arms was pushing the limits of his self-control. He had been deliberately keeping his distance, afraid he would hurt her again. He wanted her to accept him slowly, willingly. But hearing she had stayed out so late had made him act on impulse. Her warm, alcohol-scented body and intoxicating presence were driving him wild.

As each second passed, Myra squirmed against him, her soft curves pressing into his hard frame. Matteo’s jaw clenched. He quickly carried her to her bedroom, lowering her onto the bed before stepping back with a heavy sigh.

He ordered Butler William to prepare a strong cup of sobering tea. By the time the butler returned, Myra had already slipped deeper into drowsiness. Matteo sat beside her and gently shook her shoulder.

“Be a good girl and drink this,” he coaxed.

Myra protested fiercely, turning her head away and clamping her lips shut. No matter how patiently he tried, she refused to open her mouth. In the struggle, the tea spilled across her chest and tank top, soaking the fabric.

Matteo stared at her for a long moment, then made a decision. He set the cup aside, leaned over her, and cupped her jaw firmly. He pressed his mouth to hers, forcing her lips apart. What started as a way to deliver the tea quickly turned into something far more dangerous. His tongue plunged inside, exploring every contour of her mouth, tangling with hers in deep, ravaging strokes until she was gasping for breath.

He finally pulled back. Myra unconsciously smacked her lips, savoring the unexpected sweetness.

That tiny, innocent action completely shattered Matteo’s remaining restraint.

He kissed her again, deeper and more hungrily. His hand slipped beneath her damp tank top, tracing the soft skin of her stomach before cupping one full breast. He kneaded the plush flesh, his thumb circling the sensitive peak as his mind clouded with raw need. He pulled her body tightly against his, as if trying to merge them into one.

His kisses slowly descended, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck. He lingered at the spot where his mark should be, inhaling her scent deeply. His hand moved lower, reaching for the waistband of her camouflage pants.

Myra suddenly whined in protest, a soft, vulnerable sound that yanked Matteo back to his senses. He cursed himself inwardly and forced his hands away. Looking down at the woman who had subconsciously curled into a protective ball, her eyelashes fluttering in drunken sleep, his expression softened. He leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead before retreating to his own room for a long, ice-cold shower.

Myra woke the next morning with a refreshing smile on her face. She felt surprisingly refreshed, as if she had the best sleep of her life. She assumed it was a side effect of the drinking, though she couldn’t remember much. Noticing she was still in her old clothes and feeling sticky, she rushed into the shower to freshen up.

She changed into a fresh set of clothes delivered yesterday by the female army, fitted camouflage pants and a tank top, then tied her ginger hair into a neat bun. Feeling energetic and ecstatic, she skipped down the hallway and bounded down the stairs.

Spotting a familiar tall figure at the bottom, she missed a step and tumbled forward, landing sprawled on the floor in embarrassment.

Matteo chuckled, the low sound warm and unexpectedly gentle. Bria, who had been carrying a plate of food, gasped and dropped it with a clatter before rushing to Myra’s side.

“Are you okay?” Bria asked, helping her up and brushing invisible dirt from her clothes. She glanced at Matteo and bowed her head respectfully. “Your Majesty, you are here.”

Matteo smirked. “Of course I am. This is my home. Where else would I be?”

Myra let out a soft “Oh,” realization dawning. “That’s right.” Butler William set the last tray on the dining table. “Come, we can start breakfast.”

Bria pouted dramatically as they sat down. “Why didn’t you tell me you joined the Lycan army? If I hadn’t collected the uniform they sent for you, I would’ve been completely in the dark! That’s totally unfair. I’m your BFF!”

“I’m sorry,” Myra replied somewhat absentmindedly, her gaze drifting to Matteo. His face looked slightly flushed. Did he have a fever? The atmosphere at the table felt strangely awkward.

Bria eventually gave up trying to chat and ate quickly. She exchanged a few words with her father before dashing out. Soon, only Matteo and Myra remained in the dining room.

Myra cleared her throat and pushed her chair back, standing up. “Your Majesty, thank you for the meal.”

She turned to leave, but Matteo grabbed her wrist. A spark of electricity shot through both of them at the contact. Myra jerked her hand back instinctively. Matteo frowned at her reaction. It seemed her wolf still rejected him.

“Come back early today,” he said, his tone leaving little room for argument. “Your clothes for the Lunar Ball will be delivered. Pick whichever suits you.”

“Actually, there’s no need. I don’t—”

“You are my guest, and it is my party,” Matteo interjected smoothly. “It would be rude not to attend. So give me a little face and come.” The words of refusal died in Myra’s throat. Why was she afraid of going? She should be there. He was her savior and benefactor, and he was about to choose a bride. What was she even thinking?

“Okay… I’ll be there.” Matteo smiled, a rare, genuine smile that made her heart stutter. This usually cold-faced man looked devastatingly handsome when he smiled.

Back in the Crimson Moon Pack, Ryan scolded Lyka like a misbehaving child, but she remained stubbornly insistent.

“Why can’t I go with Aiden? I’ve been there before!” she whined.

“It seems you’ve forgotten how shameful your current reputation is,” Ryan snapped. “You want to go? Fine. Go ahead and make a f*****g mockery of yourself.”

Lyka walked slowly toward him and embraced him from behind, pressing her body against his. “If I have your back, who would dare say anything? Hmm?” she purred. “Won’t you protect me, Daddy?”

Ryan exhaled sharply. “Do you think the Lycans are rebels who care about my face? The news about you has already been brushed under the rug, that’s the best I can do.” He turned in her arms, his hands boldly groping her ass. Lyka frowned but didn’t pull away, this man was still useful to her.

“I still need to go. If I don’t show myself, it’ll look like I’m embarrassed and hiding. I can insist the rumors are framed and fabricated. Hiding like a coward only proves I’m guilty.”

Ryan shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Lyka took the lead, hopping onto his desk and spreading her legs invitingly, giving him full access to her throbbing core. A wicked smile curved Ryan’s lips as he lowered his head. His fingers pushed her panties aside with practiced ease and slid two thick fingers inside her. Lyka gasped softly, biting her lip.

“More…” she mumbled