The Lycan King's Puppet-Chapter 103: He Didn’t?

The single moment he took his eyes off her, this was already happening? That meant he had to be watching over her like a hawk.

Just thinking of what would have happened if she returned to her uncle made him clench his fists so hard that they became white.

He scribbled the neat words on the parchment as fast as he could. As soon as he was done, he gave it to the guard at the door.

"Take this to the Capital, immediately."

Niel nodded and left. Another guard replaced him.

Just as he turned around, the door slid open.

Gael stood there, bowing in acknowledgement.

Yeren nodded at him. The pale-faced man stood aside to reveal her.

She was palefaced as well. What had happened? Did the prisoner escape?

"What happened?"

Gael’s gaze fell to the ground. "She was... burned."

Claire coloured slightly.

"It’s nothing serious, Your Grace."

"By what?" He needed to know.

"By the silver bar in the cell, Your Grace."

He blinked several times. Burned by silver. That only meant one thing.

"Leave us, Gael. And..." He added as the man was leaving, "thank you for looking after her."

The door clicked at last, leaving them in perfect silence.

"It doesn’t mean anything." She quickly said to fill the silence.

"It clearly does, Miss Stenly. Let me see your hands."

She moved forward hesitantly, putting her left hand in his outstretched one.

The skin was smooth - evidence of the applied salve.

Not just the skin of her hand, though...

"You look tired."

"Perhaps I am."

"And hungry."

"As do you." She looked into his face with searching eyes.

"I’ve asked that food be brought to my private chambers. Do join me, Miss Stenly."

She lowered her eyes briefly before looking up at him.

"Why are you being nice to me?"

That was the first time she reversed the roles.

"I’m obligated to."

"Are you?"

He backed away, in his wake, he pushed a heap of letters off the table.

She moved to help him, kneeling to pack what she could.

Those were sensitive letters, she couldn’t see them...

"Don’t touch-" He trailed off.

He was too late. She’d already picked up one of them.

But which of them?

Her hand slowly covered her mouth.

Claire slowly spun on him, her eyes wide with shock.

"Why didn’t you tell me?"

Why didn’t he tell her what? The almost breathless sound of her voice was tearing him apart with curiosity.

He snatched the letter from her, running his eyes hastily over the contents of the letter. It was the letter from Falstaff explaining why he couldn’t allow Claire and her family to remain in control of their own lands.

What was going through her mind?

"You tried to fight for me? Why didn’t you tell me?"

Yeren looked away. He wasn’t willing to discuss his youthful foolishness.

"It’s not what you-"

She launched herself at him, fists flying. Her flinging hands were surprisingly more potent than he thought they would be.

"You made me think you were the enemy!"

He grabbed her hands and held it still.

"This isn’t a good place to talk. Anyone can come in here."

Without her permission, Yeren started pulling her out of the room.

She had no choice than to follow wherever he led.

If she wanted to rant, she should at least rant in a place that had a negligible chance of someone barging in on her.

They went up a flight of stairs. The air was tense, although she remained quiet all through the journey.

His private chambers finally loomed in front of them.

The guards closed the door as they entered.

Candles had been lit around the room in preparation for the coming darkness, and most of them were almost completely melted.

"You should have something to eat first."

She jerked her hand out of his grasp.

"Why didn’t you tell me that you didn’t give the order?"

Would she have listened if he did?

He just stared at her silently.

Her face was red with anger, her fists clenched, her lips thinned and ready to curl out hurtful words.

Why was she acting this way?

"All these years, I thought you’re the one who had him executed!"

She lunged again. He braced himself, holding his hands out to catch her flying form. But she came with an amount of force that surprised even him.

They tumbled on the floor, a tangle of ragged breaths, fabric and limbs.

"I hate you! Hiding the truth from me is much worse than having killed him."

She shook as she spoke, sobs racking through her.

He understood her anger, but it was more than that. She seemed... hurt... and disappointed.

He searched her red face, looking for a clue as to her actions.

She met his gaze with her tear-filled one.

Yeren knew it was time to detangle and stand up, but no part of his body would move.

And in the next second, her lips grazed his. The slight contact sent a wave of electricity through him.

He needed more, but he wasn’t going to initiate anything.

She did it again, adding more pressure than the last.

What a novice, he said to himself.

She slipped a hand underneath his neck in her bid to kiss more effectively.

Funnily enough, he was enjoying her attempts more than anything.

How did a raging woman suddenly become a blood-spiking teaser?

"That’s enough..." He whispered, turning until he was on top of her.

She gasped as her back touched the cold floor, her eyes never leaving this.

Then, she reached out and pulled his head down to hers.

Their lips crashed once more, but he took the lead. Every sound she made was captured by his mouth. It was gentle at first, but she clearly didn’t want to be treated gently.

Yeren moved down to her neck. She arched, giving him more access. Her scent was intoxicating.

She felt pliant - like she completely trusted him. The thought made him more determined to pleasure her.

His lips trailed kisses down to the curve of her breasts.

He climbed to his feet and rushed to the decanter for a pitcher of wine.

She sat and watched his movements, her eyes burning with impatience.

The sight of her, loose and aroused, made his abdomen swirl.

"Help me take off your dress." He told her.

She fumbled with the laces at the front while he tackled the ones at the back, careful not to rip them off with his shaky hands.

Claire pulled her hands out of the sleeves and pushed the dress down to her waist.

Before he could even ask, she loosened the lace strips at her shoulders and let her chemise fall to her waist.

Her creamy skin glowed in the wake of the candle light.

If only an artist could capture this moment perfectly, he’d store the painting in a place only his eyes would see... and then hang the painter so he’ll never live to share the tale.

Claire laid back on the floor, a slight shiver running through her as her bare back grazed the cold marble.

The bed.

He’ll take her there.

Soon.

The round and soft mounds fitted his hands perfectly. Her face was red with embarrassment, her eyes closed. But it didn’t stop her from responding to his touch.

"Claire..."

Her eyes shot open.

"I want you to look at me." He brushed a strand of her wild hair out of her face.

She managed a weak nod.

Yeren picked up the pitcher and tilted it over her.

Her eyes bulged as she stared at him, wondering if he’d gone mad.

The way the red liquid slipped along her skin made him want to run mad. And his Lycan was surprisingly silent.

He dove for a drop sliding down her pink peak, licking it all the way up to the source.

She made a sound that made his blood pump faster, clutching his arm as if her life depended on it.

His tongue moved around her chest, catching every runaway drop. She couldn’t stay still under his ministrations and it made him smirk.

He hadn’t even started...

Yeren took one of her peaks into his mouth and sucked it. She gasped, gripping his head to pull him closer.

He moved to the next one. Why was his Lycan eerily silent?

When he was satisfied, he lifted his head to catch his breath.

She was still watching him with that impatient glint in her eye.

Yeren slid a knee between her legs through the heavy fabric of her dress.

He left a trail of kisses along her flat abdomen, making sure he knew every inch of her body well enough to write poems about it.

When he reached the end of her abdomen, she stopped him.

He looked up at her face.

"Take me to the bed." She whispered, sounding timid for the first time since he’d known her.

Without a word, he picked her up and carried her to the bed.

She hadn’t tried to stop him - he almost thought she would. Neither did his Lycan.

The bed creaked softly as she landed on it.

Claire turned her face into the sheets and inhaled its scent. "It smells like you."

Just four words, but they made his blood pump faster.

When she met his gaze, he knew she saw the hunger there.

She reached for the clasps and removed the gown and petticoats, as well as the chemise. Only in her drawers and stockings, she struck quite an image.

She reached down to remove her stockings but he stopped her.

"Let me."

He rolled one down, trailing kisses along her leg as he did. Then, he did the same for the second one.

Only her drawers stood before him and their reckoning.

"Are you sure you want me to continue?"