TO TAME THE BRUTAL LYCAN BEAST-Chapter 64: TOUCH WHAT’S MINE

VALORIA WILDEROSE

He leans toward me slightly, his gaze focused on me, anything but pleased or delighted—rather serious and stern.

"A-Azrael?" I look at him through tear-stained eyes, like an angel standing in blinding light.

I freeze from the shock and the wave of nakedness that washes over me. I’m bare and exposed, embarrassed on my knees and covered in filth in front of this man who loves to mock me.

Just when I thought this humiliation couldn’t get worse.

I want the earth to swallow me whole. I want to disappear, to never see him again, so much so that I tuck my face away, refusing to look at him another second.

"Your Majesty," my sisters say in unison, surprise and anxiety dripping from each voice.

Ana rises to her feet again, dusting her gown to appear more presentable.

"There you are, my pet. I’ve been looking for you."

Suddenly his palm is in front of me, stretched out with the expectation that I take it, ignoring everyone else.

I’m forced to meet his blue eyes again, doubting his intentions. Nonetheless, I take his hand after a moment of hesitation.

His large hand clasps mine, lifting me to my feet in less than a second, and then a small mischievous grin flashes across his face.

"I take my eyes off you for a moment, and you’re already covered in filth," he teases lightly, confusing me again.

One moment he’s hiding anger, and now he’s smiling with a boyish grin that feels more ominous than reassuring.

Lyra rises next, cueing the others to follow her, all of them taking a 90-degree bow toward Azrael.

"We greet His Majesty, the King and Lord of Lycans." They echo their pre-practiced greetings. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

"I didn’t know eating breakfast off the floor was a Wilderose tradition," he continues, ignoring them again, a hint of suppressed annoyance behind his light, jovial countenance.

"Apologies, Your Majesty. I made a mess and she was only helping me clean it up. The maids are... busy." Willow makes up an excuse, smiling like a sweet, innocent girl now that the king is here.

I bite my lips.

"You’re lacking in maids? Makes me wonder what Ottomar uses the annual budget we send him for." Azrael counteracts her excuse, and her smile falls, followed by speechlessness around the table.

"What are you doing here?" I lean closer to Azrael and whisper, terrified that his new game might be making me a bigger target than I usually am.

He passes me a smile, speaking loud enough for others to hear.

"I thought I’d stop by for a moment, but seeing you all gathered like this makes me realize how hungry I am."

"Please, Your Majesty, join us," Lyra offers, trying to appease him.

He takes the opportunity to step forward, dragging the chair right next to mine—Willow’s—settling down and gesturing for me to do the same.

I step up awkwardly, sitting as everyone else settles into their seats, except the one person now displaced.

"This looks comfortable," he jokes, purposefully ignoring Willow standing behind him.

She fumes, and her anger is directed at me, sending fiery signals with her eyes like I am the one who summoned him here from thin air.

I make the move to stand and offer her my seat, knowing things will become hell the moment Azrael leaves, but his hand grabs my arm the second I shift even an inch away from him.

"I want you next to me," he says out of nowhere, smiling again.

The action takes me off guard, and for a split moment I’m like everyone else—jaw hanging low, almost believing what he’s saying—until I catch myself.

He wants me right next to him for reasons besides what most people will think, and he’s using that obnoxiously sweet tone to sell it. He doesn’t do anything unless it’s to annoy me or entertain himself.

Willow is even more infuriated by the gesture, stalking off before returning with a maid holding an extra seat, which is fixed between Ana and Azrael.

Suddenly, everyone is in a good mood again, smiling and feigning hospitality.

"It’s an honor to have you in our presence, Your Majesty. I say that on behalf of Father and—"

"Yes, yes, I’ve heard all that crap yesterday and I’m bored of it," he interrupts Nova before she can make her diplomatic speech, shutting her up. "What I’m looking for is entertainment. I am bored beyond my mind."

Willow takes it as her cue, fluffing up her breasts that pour out of her top and leaning closer to him, thirstier than a dehydrated fish out of the sea.

It’s like I don’t even exist anymore. She slides her arm around his slowly, pressing her luscious breasts against his upper arm in an attempt to be extremely seductive, drawing circles on his exposed skin.

"There are many variations of entertainment, Your Majesty, and I assure you that one of them might just be to your liking." She licks her lips teasingly.

I bite my lip and look away, unable to watch him give in to her with ease just like that night.

He’s going to do it right beside me, so it stings all the more. That’s why he’s here after all—to mock me and get a front-row seat to my misery.

Azrael smirks as expected, leaning closer to her.

"I have a different kind of entertainment in mind, actually."

Suddenly, he grabs her arm. She lets him, thinking he’s going to plant a kiss on the back of her hand as the rest of them do, but then he twists it.

Her body contorts before she lets out a scream of pain that jolts everyone at the table.

She shudders and falls with her chair, landing on her knees, and he still doesn’t let her hand go—holding it twisted in an abnormal manner. Enough to inflict pain but not enough to completely shatter the bone.

"You’re hurting me, Your Majesty!" she breaks out in a sob, terror gripping everyone present.

"Azrael, what are you doing?" I whisper to him, terrified of what he might do—of the many things I’ve seen him do in the name of fun, far more gruesome than anything these girls have ever witnessed.

He doesn’t respond, only chuckles to himself. I imagine the worst thing he could possibly do to Willow, and my stomach turns.

"Let her go, please!" I beg.

Finally, he looks at me with a playful pout before easing up on her hand.

She falls on her back, crying uncontrollably, clutching her hand like a little girl, just before Ana drops beside her to console her twin.

The entire table is silent, the atmosphere thick with fear, and he realizes it—chuckling out loud again.

"Why the long faces? I assumed you were all into these kinds of games, and I thought I’d join in and show all of you just how dirty I play." He jokes, cackling even louder.

"Willow, it’s okay," Ana coos at her, blowing on her bruised hand, drawing Azrael’s attention again.

"Since you’re already on your knees, why don’t you clean this up as well?"

He grabs a bowl of warm soup without asking and dumps it all over Ana the next second, shocking her still.

"The maids are busy, remember?"

"Y-Your Majesty, it was just a joke," Marcella speaks up, catching his reference fast enough. "We were only playing around with Valoria."

"Then let me be perfectly clear. No one touches what is mine unless you want me involved—and I don’t play your typical games, little girl."

Marcella flinches away from him, real fear—potent and raw—flickering in her eyes for the first time before she turns away without another word.

She, like everyone else, remains frozen in place, crippled with fear while he leans back into his seat, chuckling to himself with satisfaction.

The once cheerful table that flourished at my expense is completely and entirely chaotic, and I don’t know how to feel about it.

I do know that Azrael is incapable of taking anything seriously. He’s incapable of seeing the long-term effects of his actions, especially when he’s not here and their anger is directed at me again.

The force of their retaliation will be ten times more vengeful than it is now. I can’t let him do any more damage.