The Lycan King’s Servant

4

Valina

Everything about his behavior screamed, “I am the absolute master here, the undisputed sovereign.”

I immediately lowered my head, trembling.

It didn’t matter that I had no inner she-wolf—the power emanating from this man felt capable of suffocating you, crushing your soul, and he wasn’t even that close to me.

He was a Lycan, the superior species of werewolves, the ultimate evolution. I was almost certain he was the most powerful of them all: Marcus Turpin, the Lycan King.

“Sabine, get rid of the trash and make sure my next personal servant isn’t a schemer, or she’ll lose more than her head,”

his deep, cold, intimidating voice echoed, followed by the sound of footsteps moving away.

“This is a disaster. That’s the fifth one in two months. I don’t know what goes through these girls’ heads. I warned them,”

the governess muttered as she approached, removing a small vial from the dead woman’s hand.

“Another girl who tried to drug the King with an aphrodisiac. i***t. I’ll call a servant to take her away. And your first task starts now:

clean this mess.”

And so, scrubbing fresh blood from the floor, my work in the Lycan King’s castle began.

The first lesson I learned: never—ever—try to defy that dangerous man, or you’ll end up without a head.

Unfortunately, I soon found myself once again walking on a razor’s edge.

⸻

Sabine introduced me to the staff—a group of she-wolves and wolves working in the castle, serving the Guardians.

They all looked at me as if I were a monster.

I didn’t care. I just wanted to keep existing and remain invisible.

“The Guardians”—that’s what they called the five Lycans who lived in this ancient, dark castle.

They enforced the laws of our world, or at least those concerning werewolves, maintaining balance with other supernatural creatures.

They delivered justice, protection, and punishment—often in the most brutal and merciless ways.

Especially the Lycan King.

At least, that’s what I had always heard.

I was forbidden to climb the stairs or wander beyond the service quarters. And honestly, I had no intention of trying.

I focused on my work and healed thanks to the medicine the governess had given me.

The food here was good too.

Except for the first day, I had spent three days without seeing any of the other Guardians.

Until this morning.

⸻

“Hey, I heard the governess say she still hasn’t found a suitable candidate to be the King’s servant.

Maybe she’ll give us a chance.”

I was on my knees scrubbing the floor, listening to the whispers echoing through the enormous castle kitchen.

My head stayed down, my long black hair falling almost over my eyes, helping to hide the disfigurement on my face.

My hands kept moving the cloth over the tiles, but it was impossible to ignore the gossip.

Suddenly, the room fell silent. Heels echoed from the hallway, and tension filled the air—it was the governess.

“Stop what you’re doing. I want all of you lined up,” she ordered sharply.

The cooks, the servants, and even me—the humble cleaner—lined up like prisoners, side by side.

She began her inspection, passing in front of every trembling figure with bowed heads.

When her shadow stopped in front of me, I thought she would move on.

She didn’t.

“What was your name again?” she asked.

“Valina, ma’am,” I replied softly.

Her cold finger pressed under my chin, forcing me to lift my head.

My blue eyes met her intimidating gaze.

“Good. I think I’ll try a different strategy this time. Come with me,” she said, and terror twisted my chest.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed the looks from the other women in line—bitter looks filled with jealousy, anger, and envy.

Nothing good. That was certain.

“Listen carefully, Valina. You are going to be King Marcus ’s personal servant,”

she dropped the bomb casually, as if it were nothing, while walking across the kitchen.

“You know how to cook, iron, organize a man’s belongings—his clothes, and so on?”

“Y-Yes, ma’am. But… I don’t think I’m the right choice for this position. Maybe someone more—”

“That’s not optional,” she cut me off sharply, turning around.

“Either you accept, or you leave. I don’t need a cleaning woman right now. I need a servant for the King. Understood?”

I had no choice but to nod. Sometimes I forgot that this harsh woman had saved my life.

Honestly, I still didn’t know why—especially now that she was sending me straight into the Lycan’s lair.

“Memorize everything I’m about to tell you. The King wakes up at… He doesn’t like… He prefers things this way…

And his meals are prepared only by the cook of this section. Make sure it’s always her…

And you must taste everything before serving him.”

She paced through the kitchen, the laundry room—practically the entire service area—listing the King’s preferences and dislikes.

I followed, my brain nearly short-circuiting under the flood of information.

I would have to write all of this down later!

“Very well. You’ll bring him his first breakfast now. Do exactly as I told you,”

she said, placing a silver tray filled with covered dishes into my hands.

“And Valina… remember—head down.

Stay invisible. You’re nothing more than a piece of furniture.

“And I hope you haven’t forgotten the scene from your first day here. If you try anything against the King, believe me, he was merciful with that woman.”

Her warning made me swallow hard as I nodded.

I didn’t consider myself a coward, but it felt like I was walking straight to the gallows as I climbed the forbidden stairs, crossing candlelit corridors leading to the quarters of the head of the Guardians.

I reached the only door in that wing—an enormous wooden door with intricate carvings—and tried to recall every instruction.

“Don’t knock at this hour. Enter directly.”

So that’s what I did. Carefully balancing the tray, I turned the heavy handle.

Step by step, I entered the lair of the big bad wolf, avoiding unnecessary glances.

I immediately noticed the large wooden table at the center and the dim lighting.

I focused on setting the breakfast correctly.

But then I heard it—and smelled it.

The scent of lust and desire.

Through my strands of hair, I glanced toward a black door, slightly ajar.

Muffled moans escaped from it, even though it was closed.

More than one female voice.

The rhythmic sound of something hitting a wall echoed—maybe the bed, I didn’t know, and I didn’t care.

The most important rule:

Head down. Stay invisible. Don’t speak. Don’t look. Don’t listen.

I was so focused on remembering every detail of his preferences, circling the table, that I didn’t even notice when the sounds stopped.

“Who are you?”

A dominant voice behind me made me jump.

My trembling fists clenched as I turned, staring at the gray carpet.

“Your Majesty, my name is Valina. I am your new servant,”

I managed to say without stuttering.

A massive shadow loomed over me, every instinct screaming Danger! Run!

But I stood still as he placed a finger under my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.

I expected disgust at my scarred face.

Instead, I saw fierce, intimidating gray eyes studying me—so captivating they looked like steel.

“Where is your inner she-wolf?” he asked, frowning.

How had he noticed with a single glance?

“I… I’m not entirely sure, sir. I experienced severe trauma before turning eighteen, and her spirit never appeared. But… I can transform into a wolf. Others say it’s a curse.”

I added quickly, half-expecting to be dismissed on my first day.

Marked. Cursed. What a perfect servant.

“Is that why your face didn’t heal?” he asked calmly, but piercingly.

“I suppose so, sir. My healing is… slower than others’.”

He said nothing, but his intense scrutiny made me shiver.

Had I said something wrong?

I avoided lingering on his rugged features, but it was clear why so many women risked their lives for a single night in his bed.

Marcus Turpin was a man made for sin.

An imposing figure, nearly two meters tall, with a powerful, scarred body—bold and authoritative. Muscular, rough, dangerously attractive.

His bare torso was covered in red and black tattoos on pale skin marked by battle.

And despite his icy aura, his shoulder-length hair was a deep red, as was his short beard—like fire, like blood he could spill without blinking.

“I don’t care about your peculiarities, but you’d better have understood the rules. I will tolerate neither disobedience nor tricks,”

he warned in a dangerously low, guttural voice.

I nodded, swallowing hard.

“Yes, Your Maj—”

“And call me Sir. I don’t like that ‘Your Majesty’ nonsense,” he added, finally releasing me and walking to the other side of the room.

I exhaled, realizing I had been holding my breath the entire time.

Yet I could still smell that lingering scent on his skin—something like aged wine, rich, intoxicating, seductive.

Was it cologne? I couldn’t detect werewolf pheromones like others.

“They’ll come get those women soon. Make sure they leave and clean everything,”

he said without even looking at me, then disappeared through a door leading to what seemed like another room.

I stood there in the dim light, frozen.

Then, clenching my fists, I gathered my resolve and went to deal with his lovers still in bed.

I opened the door and stared in shock at the chaotic scene inside.

The room was dimly lit, clothes scattered across the floor, and in the center, three women lay sprawled on an enormous oak bed.

The heavy scent filled the air, making it hard to breathe.

“Uh… ladies, it’s time to leave,”

I said softly, stopping at the edge of the bed—but none of them reacted. Their eyes were closed, as if completely unconscious.

They looked exhausted, their bodies marked with bite marks and bruises.

“The King has ordered you to leave. You must—”

“Shut up, you annoying little b***h!”

the blonde lying between the two brunettes growled, even throwing a pillow at me, which I barely dodged.

Well, they still had some energy, apparently.

Alright. This wasn’t going as easily as I had imagined, and they were already settling back in as if they planned to stay.

Weren’t they uncomfortable, covered in all this… mess?

But I couldn’t fail my first task. I knew he had done this intentionally—to test me.

I went to the bathroom, filled a basin with cold water, and placed it beside the bed.

Rolling up my sleeves, exposing my pale arms, I walked to the massive crimson curtains.

I grabbed the heavy fabric and yanked it open forcefully.

“Aaah! Close it, you filthy woman! Close the curtain!”

they screamed like possessed beings, even though the sky was overcast.

The sun never really shone here—this land was always wrapped in thick mist.

Grabbing the basin, I lifted it and splashed them with icy water to wake them.

“Have you lost your mind, you filthy servant?!”