LYCAN KING CASSIAN
I slamd the door shut behind , the sound reverberating through the chamber as I tore at the buttons of my shirt. The fabric strained against my grip before I finally ripped it off, the cool air hitting my overheated skin. Piece by piece, I shed the rest of my clothes, tossing them carelessly to the floor, as if the weight of them was sohow keeping from her.
Fuck, what was she doing to ?
I raked a hand through my hair, pacing the length of the room, my chest heaving with ragged breaths. I had never thirsted for soone like this before. Never hungered so fiercely, so obsessively. Her lips. Damn those lips. Full and impossibly inviting.
I had made the mistake of touching them earlier, my thumb grazing over their softness in a fleeting mont of weakness. It was like striking a match, the briefest contact igniting sothing deep and dangerous within . That touch shouldn’t have mattered, but it did—it lingered, etched into my mory, a sensation I couldn’t shake no matter how hard I tried.
And then there was the way she had looked at . Her eyes, wide and searching, had held sothing raw, sothing innocent she probably didn’t even understand, even as she unknowingly tested every shred of my restraint.
It was enough to undo . Enough to drive to madness. Enough to make want to ruin everything just to feel those lips against mine, to taste the sweetness I knew all to well.
But I couldn’t. She is sick.
She was recovering, and if I let the full force of my desire loose on her now, I’d destroy her. That thought—the possibility of breaking her—was the only thing keeping tethered to sanity.
I gripped the edge of the dresser so hard I thought it might splinter under my fingers. My body was taut with restraint, a battle I was losing with every second she wasn’t mine.
I groaned, low and guttural, as I ran my hand through my hair, my body tense with unfulfilled need.
Patience. I had been patient. Too patient. Far longer than I thought myself capable of. Every ti she crossed my path, her presence ignited sothing primal in , sothing uncontrollable. And yet, I had restrained himself, holding back the full force of my desire.
But it was agony. Pure, unrelenting agony.
I had waited this long because I wanted her to beg for . The image alone was enough to bring a smirk to my lips, sharp and knowing. To have her surrender completely, her voice soft and trembling as she whispered my na—not out of fear, but out of pure, unrelenting want
But with the way she looked at . Her wide, searching eyes held sothing raw and unguarded, sothing she probably didn’t even realize she was offering. That look had done more damage to my resolve than I cared to admit.
Fuck, I want her.
Wanted her in ways I couldn’t justify, couldn’t reason away. But not like this. Not while she was still weak, her strength sapped from losing her wolf. If she were healthy—if she had the fire in her eyes and the resilience in her fra that I knew she was capable of—I wouldn’t have hesitated.
Fuck having to wait for her to want .
I would have claid her, right then and there, with no apologies and no restraint. She was mine, in every way that mattered, and the thought of finally taking what was mine made my blood roar in my veins.
I gripped the edge of the dresser, my knuckles white with tension, my chest heaving heavily. The image of her was burned into his mind, her lips, her soft skin, the way her eyes lingered just a second too long. Every detail fueled the fire that threatened to consu entirely.
I dragged a hand down my face, my voice a low growl in the quiet of the room. "If she only knew what she’s doing to ..."
My gaze flickered to the empty bed, my imagination conjuring the sight of her there, waiting for , moaning my na, wet for . I groaned again, the sound filled with frustration and yearning. I had never wanted sothing this much, never been consud so completely.
And yet, I had to wait. For now. Because when the ti ca, there would be no holding back. She would know—every touch, every kiss, every inch of would ensure she knew—she belonged to , and only .
And gods help anyone who tries to take her from .
Even the goddess herself.
My cock was still hard... so hard that I feared it might burst through my garnt.
I needed a distraction
"Sabastine!" I barked he appeared almost instantly, his head bowed, his expression neutral.
"Yes, Your Majesty?" he asked, ever the picture of composure.
"Prepare a bath," I ordered, not bothering to glance at him.
He bowed and left without a word.
I crossed to the hearth, pouring myself a glass of wine from the decanter on the mantel. The rich, dark liquid slid down my throat, its warmth doing little to ease the tension coiling in my chest. I set the glass down with more force than necessary, my jaw tightening as I stared into the flickering flas.
It was maddening, this pull she had over . Maddening and entirely unacceptable.
A knock at the door pulled from my thoughts, and I turned to see Sabastine stepping back inside, a maid trailing nervously behind him. She was small, with wide eyes that darted around the room as though expecting to find sothing lurking in the shadows.
"The bath will be ready shortly, Your Majesty," Sabastine said, his voice calm and asured. He gestured for the maid to enter fully, and she hurried to the adjoining room where the tub was housed, her steps quick and efficient.
"Good," I muttered, dismissing him with a wave of my hand. Sabastine gave a slight bow and left without another word, leaving alone with my thoughts once more.
I leaned against the mantel, my fingers curling around the edge as I tried to steady my breathing. The fire crackled softly, the sound filling the otherwise silent room. It should have been soothing, but it only served to highlight the chaos swirling inside .
She was still in that damn bedchamber, probably glaring at the walls or cursing my na under her breath. The thought brought a flicker of a smirk to my lips.
The sound of water sloshing in the adjoining room signaled that the bath was ready, and I pushed off the mantel.
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