The Lycan King’s Warrior Mate

6: Twisted part

Willow.

The small bathroom attached to the sauna was barely more than a square of smooth stone walls and a bench carved into the side but it offered the one thing I desperately needed which was space.

Space to breathe, to think and to pull myself back together. My fingers shook slightly as i undid the top of my uniform and slipped it off, folding it neatly and hanging it on the rusted hook nailed into the wall.

The robe I found was thick and almost too thick for the heat outside but it was what I needed. Something to hide me and something that would blur all the parts of me I was constantly trying to erase.

I turned my back to the wall length mirror and unwrapped the bandage around my chest slowly and carefully like it was second nature now. The skin beneath was red slightly raw from days of compression but I didn't have time to care.

I grabbed the clean roll from my hidden pocket amd started again tighter this time until every curve was smoothed out and I could pretend I was just another warrior and just another male. Just someone who belonged herw.

Once it was secured, I tugged the robe on over it, pulling the sash tight at my waist and making sure nothing showed. I took one last breath then opened the door and completely froze. I mean froze for reasons that has to do wirh how feminine I function. Damn it to hell.

Damon was stretched out across the smooth bench like he had all the time in the world. The robe he’d been wearing when we walked in hung open, loose and careless around his wide shoulders and thick arms.

His skin glistened slightly with heat all tanned and golden and his chest was broad and defined in a way that made my stomach twist. But it was the shorts (those damn shorts) that ruined me. They clung to his thighs like they’d been stitched onto him, leaving almost nothing to the imagination.

His legs were powerful and carved like a warrior's should be and the way he sat, legs slightly parted relaxed and unbothered…….GODS above!.

My eyes dropped traitorous and wild, catching on the outline between his legs that made my heart trip over itself. It wasn’t even that he was fully hard because he wasn’t. But he was thick and long even in rest and I had to snap my gaze away before I combusted on the spot.

Heat shot through me, straight to the pit of my stomach and I reminded myself sharply that he thought I was a mam. That’s why he was so comfortable and that’s hy he hadn’t bothered covering up. I was just another warrior in his eyes.

He looked over then his gaze dark and knowin and patted the space next to him. I hesitated wishing for the first time I had the guts to say no to him. But this was Damon Draevan, the Lycan King, the man whose very bloodline could bring an entire nation to its knees.

So I walked over slowly keeping the robe wrapped tight and sat beside him though not too close. I left a respectable amount of space between us enough that our shoulders didn’t brush but not so much that it looked like I was avoiding him.

He leaned back, arms stretched lazily along the edge of the bench and legs still parted and radiating power like it was stitched into his bones. This man is who he thinks he is and that’s on period cause f**k.

"Tell me about yourself warrior.” He said in a low voice that sounded casual but with that thread of command that made it clear this wasn't just small talk. He wanted to know and he wanted in.

I blinked at him trying to sort through the thousand lies I’d told since I got here. I started trying to sound bored indifferent so hw won’t really caych onto my lies.

"There’s not much to tell. I’m from a small pack. Outskirts of the werewolf territories and I’m no one important." I shrugged hoping he’d take the hint but he didn’t.

"My mom named me Willow. She thought I was going to be a girl. Never changed it when I wasn’t." I added, letting out a small laugh keeping it ligh.

It was the lie I’d repeated so often, it almost felt like truth now. Almost. He didn’t speak right away but just stared at me like he was peeling back skin and reading the bone beneath. I swallowed again and rushed on.

"She died when I was young when the pack got raided. It was just me after that so I learned how to fight, steal, survive. Found my way here eventually. Nightshade seemed like the best place to build something better."

"You’re a good fighter. Agile and sharp and fast.” He said finally that my eyes flicked to his surprised by the compliment.

“Thanks.” I murmured beneath my breath.

"You need to relax around me if this is going to work. A second-in-command who walks on eggshells isn't useful to me." He said turning slightly toward me and I hated the way my body tensed at his nearness.

"It’s hard to relax around someone when you know they could crush your skulk with a single thought." I scoffed rubbing my palms on the thick robe.

He laughed then and it was low almost warm. And gods help me, it did something to me. My heart skipped and my fingers clenched and I cursed the way my body reacted to his voice like it had been wired to.

I had spent two years training beside men and sleeping beside them and bleeding with them. I had never once felt this kind of reaction. But Damon made something inside me unravel with just a laugh.

I tried to keep my eyes forward and nnot on the line of his jaw or the neat trim of his beard or the way his smile showed perfect white teeth against golden skin. He turned toward me and I looked away too quickly.

"You do look like a Willow. You’re feminine and soft in the face." He said softly his voice sounding closer now. I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself then cursed and straightened.

“I might be feminine. But I can break teeth." I murmured bitterly.

"True. You’re quick because you fight with purpose." He said with a small nod that was all as a matter of fact.

The glow that spread through my chest was embarrassing but I couldn’t stop it. It wasn’t just anyone saying that but was him. The Lycan King. The man they whispered stories about in the dark, the warrior who murdered his family to ascend. The immortal who outlived generations.

And he was sitting here looking at me like I was something worth paying attention to. I didn’t know what game he was playing. Maybe he was bored or maybe I amused him or maybe he was suspicious.

But whatever it was I knew I was walking a tightrope. I couldn’t let him see too much and couldnt let him see the truth under the layers I’d spent years building.

But sitting here wirh my heart pounding and robe clutched in sweating hands while my body aching from the fight and his nearness , I couldn’t deny it.

He scared me but stirred things in me I’d buried at the same. And worse, some part of me (twisyed and foolish) wanted more of it.