Lycan King’s Captives novel Chapter 30

Xandros’s words ricochet through my mind, an unnerving echo of truth. The bond between us is like a twisting knife, cutting deeper with each passing day. I wish he would use his calling, use the bond to force my compliance—it would be easier to despise him that way. Instead, he is gentle, a stark contrast to the cruel man I know him to be.

His powerful gaze is locked onto mine as he says, “Your freedom I also own, Sienna. Just as I own you. I’m here now, use me to stifle your bond, or don’t. We both know you will. So stop fighting it.” The words wash over me, a torrent of dark promises and deep truths.

My gaze shifts down, tracing the contours of his chest. His dark hair, wet, clings to his muscular form. Each muscle ripples with power and strength, a testament to the true king he is. Using my eyes, I trail lower, taking in his taut abdomen and his cock standing hard between his thighs. Desire coils within me, tightening with each beat of my heart.

His hand finds my hair, threading through the damp strands. I stay still, conflicted. There’s a part of me—the part connected by the bond—that yearns for him, for his touch. Yet my pride, my sense of self, refuses to succumb. His question lingers in the steam-filled air, “What do you want, Sienna?” I remain silent, reaching for the soap instead. My movement brings me closer to him, his hard cock brushing against my thigh. The contact sends a spark through me, a memory of his girth stretching me, so do the memories of his rushed climaxes, the unfulfilled need he leaves me with.

His hand leaves my hair, and his grip moves to my chin, forcing my head back. “I know you want me, yet you deny yourself,” he murmurs. His words provoke a bitter laugh. “Better I deny myself, than have you deny me when you’re done with me,” I whisper, and for a moment, his eyes soften.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Yet you keep doing it,” I retort.

His thumb brushes across my lips, a gentle gesture that contradicts his intentions. I am just a toy to this man, nothing more, I won’t let his gentle touches and teasing remove the image of the monster he can truly be.

“Would you rather me use my calling? You’re being defiant, I can feel it. Just like I felt you lying to me earlier,” he whispers, and my heartbeat quickens, his accusing tone sending a jolt of fear through me. “And you were lying, weren’t you, Sienna?” He questions me again about my earlier conversation, and I falter, hands trembling as I deny his accusations. “You’re mistaken,” I whisper.

“Do you like being punished, Sienna? Is that it?” he asks, his voice deep and resonating. I shake my head. His words are a cruel taunt, a reminder of the unbridgeable gap between us. I am his mistress, he is a king, I am no one, and he is my master. Never to compare, never at his side, forever at his feet. My back is against the cold shower wall, trapped in his overpowering presence, yet still he finds room to close the impossible space between us more. His whisper filling my ear within a breath later, nibbling on my earlobe, sending shivers down my spine. “You can’t escape me, just like you can’t escape our bond. So, quit trying.”

My hands tremble against his chest, unsure if they wish to push him away or pull him closer. “I’m feeling generous. Tell me what you want, Sienna, and I’ll forget you lied to me. Just this once,” he says. I’m overwhelmed, drowning in a sea of confusion and frustration. His question about the calling strikes a chord, I know if I deny him, I will also risk him questioning me more, so reluctantly, I nod.

A pleased purr escapes him, “Good girl.” His calling washes over me like a tidal wave, breaking down my resistance. “What do you want, Sienna?” he purrs. I bite into his chest, the taste of his skin mixed with water intoxicating me. Tears prick my eyes as I fight the urge to answer, to yield. “I want…” My voice trails off, drowned by the sound of the shower. “I want to taste you. I want to fuck you.”

“Now that you can do,” he replies, with a smirk. He urges me onto my knees. His gaze is demanding, possessive. “Open your mouth,” he orders. I comply, my hand already wrapped around his hard length, yearning to explore, to taste him when he grips my chin. His thumb brushes my tongue, and I nearly choke on a gasp. He removes his thumb, replacing it with the head of his cock.

His eyes flash as he thrusts deeper, the sensation making me gag.

“Relax your throat, breathe through your nose, and eyes on me,” he purrs. The possessive glint in his eyes makes me shiver. I follow his instruction, knowing later I will hate myself for it, but right now I can’t seem to bring myself to disobey him, wanting him just as much as he knows I do.

“Such a good girl for me,” he purrs, “You want this, don’t you, Sienna?” His words are punctuated by another thrust, another spank, further adding to my frustration. I yearn for release, I yearn for him, yet every time I think I am close, his hand comes down on my ass, tainting it and stealing my breath. I beg for him, my words a desperate plea. He chuckles darkly, “That’s it, beg for me, Sienna. Beg for my cock.”

His rhythm grows erratic as I whimper beneath him, my body teetering on the edge of release. He pulls back, denying me my climax. “Not yet,” he whispers, his tone one of mock sympathy. The frustration is overwhelming, each teasing stroke driving me closer to the edge, only to be denied once again. My ass feels welted as he strikes me again, and I have no doubt his handprint will be a branded bruise tomorrow.

“Please… Xandros,” I whimper, my voice breaking. His reply is a dark sound echoing in the room, a cross between a purr and growl, it’s predatory as he thrusts into me one more time, my climax shattering through me. He follows soon after, his hold on my hips tightening as he stills. The room falls silent, save for our panting breaths, our bodies a tangled mess of satisfaction and regret. And I know there will be regret; I gave in to him as I always do, yet this time is different, this time he let me finish and just the same as last night he pulls me against him cocooning me in his embrace, and an embrace I know I loathe and love in the same breath, as I feel his heart rate even out against my back.

I wonder what it will feel like when he leaves. Will he call when he is gone? Will he miss me? All these thoughts swirl around in my head until I finally drift off into a troubled sleep.

The next morning arrives too soon, and I am filled with dread as Xandros packs his things into a bag, yet he was right; two maids came in and set up a flat screen while Xandros packed his suits. These were far from holiday clothes. He barely acknowledges me as they move to set it up in the room, sending a cold chill down my spine that makes me long for his presence even more than before. A few moments later, another maid walks in with a trolley, followed by Javier.

“That’s your entire wardrobe,” Javier tells him as the maids, wearing gloves, start tossing them on the bed. “No one changes those sheets or steps foot in this room after I leave, no matter the reason, am I clear?” Xandros snaps at them and they all nod. The statement makes me question how painful his absence will be if he is going to the extremes of barring people from entering in case they tarnish his scent.

But I don’t get to ask any of these questions because once everyone leaves, Xandros orders my silence, laying out the rules for his mother, not to back chat, not to get in her way, not to anger or upset her. Basically, I shouldn’t breathe or look in her direction. When a knock sounds on the door, he kisses my head and climbs off the bed. When he opens the door, I see it’s Carina; she doesn’t enter, or say anything, instead, she stares down the corridor. As they leave the castle, I am filled with worry and fear of not knowing what will happen while he is gone.