The Twin Lycan Princes' Cursed Luna

Chapter 6 Rejection or Acceptance

THIRD PERSON'S POV

His sharp gaze fell on Elma, who felt her body had been pierced by his knife-like eyes. She couldn't help but shrink into the bed, wishing she could hide her head under the covers. Sick and feeling weak, Elma had no ability to resist. But her actions carried a different meaning to him - she was afraid. There is no denying it. And she has a very good reason to be. These twins are wolves. Wolves are driven by their lust. She's currently the subject of their lust especially since they think she's their mate.

These men can take advantage of her. Or they can make her agree to their conditions. She doubts the latter and fears the possibility of the former.

She stared at the two men in front of her. For nineteen-year-old, they sure are quite bulky. They don't look like their age at all.

After her attempt to negotiate, Rock called Woodrow as it was a matter that should be discussed between the three of them. Elma uncomfortably sat in the bed, enduring the males' penetrating gaze.

"First of all, why do you think I am your mate?" she asked.

Rock and Woodrow looked at each other before Rock said, "We just felt it."

"Did you feel the same thing when you brought those women here before me?"

Woodrow raised his brows. "Eavesdropping on other people's conversation, huh."

She leveled his stare. "This happens to be a small house and as much as I want to not get involved with your conversations, I can hear you even as I am here. Maybe you should try lowering your voice next time."

Woodrow's expression darkened but she ignored him.

"Nineteen years old," Rock suddenly said.

"Huh...?" Elma was caught off guard by his sudden words after the long silence.

"We'll consummate our marriage once you are nineteen years old."

Elma muttered a silent curse. How horny are these men that they already want to consummate the marriage? They are not even married!

So Elma said, "Don't you think that's a bit too soon? I mean we're not even married. Shouldn't we get married first?"

"You're suspicious," added Woodrow and she gave him an incredulous look.

"If there is anyone in this room who should be suspicious is me! I...What do you plan to do with me? Are you really planning to make me your breeding cow?"

"Breeding cow?" Rock asked, confused.

"We don't want you to be our breeding cow. We felt our connection with you. A huge possibility is that you are our mate. You may not feel it right now but soon, you will. And once you do, it will be unstoppable. You will desire us just as how we desire you." Woodrow's stare pinned her on the spot.

Elma glanced at him, thinking that although he seemed rough, he was somewhat agreeable. At least he was better than the people who used to be around.

"Twenty years old," she said, looking at the both of them. "I can't...I need more time. Besides, we don't know when this mating bond will settle. At least let's wait for it to settle."

Woodrow and Rock looked at each other before they nodded. She let out a relieved sigh. She wasn't expecting much that they would agree but she was thankful they did. As of the moment, she can't do anything but be as obedient as possible. Let them believe that she won't run away and that she has clear intentions.

"Could you... go out for a bit?" Elma pointed at the door. She wanted to use a hot towel to help cool herself down. Suddenly, the room has become warmer. Was it because of the presence of the two males inside the room?

Woodrow stared at her for a while before he took the basin and walked out, "You've delayed so much, the water is cold now."

"We're going to warm the water," Rock said and they both went out of the room.

"Thank you!" she called out. When she was already alone, she let out a sigh. That was one problem solved.

Meanwhile, as Woodrow was heating the water, a smile curved his lips. It was a rare occurrence and Rock saw it. Rock could only shake his head and smile to himself too.

A few minutes later, Woodrow came back with warm water.

He came back with hot water and gave her a hot towel. "Quickly wipe yourself," he said but he remained standing there and staring t her.

Elma quickly took the towel from his hand and wiped herself, handing the towel back when it cooled. This repeated until she was done.

Woodrow silently took the basin and poured the water outside.

When he returned and began undressing for bed, Elma panicked, "What are you doing? Why are you undressing?"

He did not answer and just climbed into bed, pushing Elma slightly to the side. When he was settled, he looked at Elma.

"What am I doing? Even if we're not consummating, I still have to sleep. I only have this one bed. Do you want me to sleep on the floor in this cold? You're in my and Rock's room. Are you actually making us sleep on the floor in this cold weather?"

Her jaw dropped at his revelation. It was the twins' room? Which means she will be sleeping with them on the same bed.

Elma had no choice but to swallow her complaints and accept the situation. When she fell silent, he put out the lamp and took a little bit of Elma's blanket, falling asleep with a content sigh.

Soon, his heavy and steady breathing indicated he was asleep. Elma let out a sigh of relief. However, a new problem arose she had drunk a lot of porridge and medicine earlier, and now... she needed to use the bathroom.

Moonlight crept through the window lattice, adding a glimmer of light to the rundown room.

Under the faint glow, Elma bit her lip, her eyebrows tightly knitted, her expression deeply conflicted. Should she get up herself?

She have no idea where the toilet was.

After a thought, she prodded his shoulder with her finger, marveling internally at his muscular hardness that felt like iron.

She poked him but there was no response.

Elma poked a bit harder and still, no response.

Left with no choice, she finally had to call out, "Mister."

He could sleep like a log, but the slightest noise could awaken him instantly. This was a habit developed over years of hunting in the mountains. Sometimes, he would venture deep into the wilderness for weeks on end to hunt big game. Without such alertness, he would have long become prey himself.

When Elma nudged his shoulder, he woke up. His sharp eyes, reminiscent of a mountain hawk, opened wide, reflecting deep disappointment.

"Mister," she called once again.

"Call me Woodrow," Woodrow grumbled, his sudden and loud voice almost startled Elma.

"Ah..."

"Call me Woodrow," he repeated and he could see how flustered she was.

"Woodrow," she said. She doesn't get why he's getting pissed at her not calling him by his name but she has lost the motivation to care.

Woodrow stopped himself from smiling. Her voice was sweet and soft, like the warbling of a nightingale in March, which made Woodrow's ears tingle.

"Such a soft voice for a cold-hearted woman," Woodrow said and Elma shivered at the statement. She doesn't know if it was a compliment or not but she's cringing. Her? A soft voice?

She hadn't noticed the softness of her voice when she was unwell and her head felt heavy.

Now that she had taken medicine and eaten, her body felt much better, and she realized how extremely uncomfortable she is with the delicate and fragile persona she was now in.

"What do you want? Have you changed your mind about consummating the marriage?" Woodrow said, a hint of teasing in his voice. Elma's face flustered.

"What, no! I wanted to ask where the toilet is."

Woodrow, his back to Elma, smirked. He knew that the little lady would surely have a pressing need.

He didn't mean to be vulgar, but he believed that husbands and wives should be honest with each other, good or bad, shy or bold.

"We don't have a toilet," he answered.

Elma was silent. Still processing what Woodrow had just said.

"You wait, I'll go get you a chamber pot."

After saying this, Woodrow got up and went out. Soon, he brought back a wooden bucket.

Then, he went to help Elma on the bed.

"I can do it myself, you ... can you go out for a bit?" Elma said and Woodrow raised his brow at her.

"No way," he answered.

"I can't do my business if you're in the same room!"

Even in the dark, Elma could clearly see how he rolled his eyes.

"Yes, you can. You're sick and frail. What if you fall off the bed and die? Who would be blamed? I've spent so much on medicine and food already."

She gave him a blank look. "I've literally fallen down the cliff and I am still alive and you're scared I would die from falling off a bed?"

Woodrow let out an impatient sigh.

"Just do your business so I can go back to sleep," he said with gritted teeth.

But there is no way that Elma is going to relieve herself in front of a stranger.

"Please go out--" A yelp came out of her mouth when suddenly, she was being lifted from the bed.

"Put me down! What the heck are you doing?"

"I'm very sleepy and I don't have time for your bullshit. Just accept my help for god's sake," he said and easily maneuvered her. One moment, she was in his arms and the next moment, she felt the cold floor on her bare feet. Before she could even process what just happened, she felt Woodrow's hand around the waistband of her pants. The next thing she knew, he had pulled her pants down easily.

"Woodrow!" she yelped again but it was already too late.

She was now naked in front of Woodrow. A chamber pot on the floor just beneath her. Woodrow gruffly sat on the bed and stared at her. He jerked his head to the pot and said, "Go on and finish quickly."

Elma was too shocked to even move.