SAVANNAH
With the pressure on my shoulders and trying hard not to notice that he was only wearing underwear, I started testing the options I picked out.
'Hmm, too simple… the gray matches his eyes, but not with the pants… this set won't do…'
I was so absorbed in holding the clothes up in front of him, measuring and matching them, that I didn't even realize I was talking out loud.
"This looks too short… will this belt fit?" I suddenly asked, lifting my head—and realizing just how close we were.
I was practically pressed up against the King, and as a drop of water dripped from his damp hair onto my lips, the way this Lycan stared at me made my heart race.
Everything about him screamed danger.
What exactly am I doing?
"Try it on, and let's see how it looks," he interrupted as I began to back away, opening his arms wide.
The message was clear: Come and try it yourself.
Gripping the leather belt in my hands, I stepped forward to wrap it around his waist, my body inevitably brushing against his skin.
The tip of my nose grazed his chest, which carried that intoxicating scent of red wine. My fingers brushed his skin, and I could have sworn I heard him growl softly above me. I could feel him sniffing my black hair, or maybe I was just being paranoid.
I swallowed nervously and focused on fastening the belt, even though he wasn't lifting a finger to help.
"It seems... it fits," I said.
"You'll need to fasten the buckle to be sure," he said, still pressing me.
'You're not even wearing pants; why fasten the buckle?' I bit back my frustration, somehow managing to fasten the belt despite the firm, unmistakable outline that was starting to make itself known in his boxers, only inches from my hands.
The scent of wine was making me dizzy.
"Yes, definitely, this is the right one," I declared, letting out an internal sigh of relief. "Do you like this outfit, Lord?"
I stepped back to safer ground.
"If you like it, then it's fine. I can't stand formal clothes. The more comfortable, the better," he assured me, and I nodded in agreement. I thought the same thing.
It was clear that he was a man of action, not one for show.
"Savannah, have you ever been with a male before?" he suddenly asked, and I froze.
I turned away from him, still arranging things, and I stayed silent for a few seconds. I didn't want to talk about Ragnar. I didn't want to talk about any part of my past.
"I…" I hesitated, my mind racing. It wasn't wise to lie to him.
"It's fine. You don't have to answer. I just hope he's dead because if he comes to claim you, he'll wish he were dead."
His words carried the authority of someone who believed he owned me. It was as if he already considered me just another possession in his room.
King Fenrir was very possessive of his belongings.
Silence fell as he went to dry his hair with a towel.
Ragnar wouldn't come. No male would claim me.
If I had once been beautiful and interesting, now I was nothing but a pitiful woman with a disfigured face.
"Here's the complete outfit; you can pair it with these boots, Lord," I pointed out, preparing to make my escape from the room.
"Where are you going?" he asked, and I immediately got a bad feeling. "If you start something, you have to finish it. Come, dress your King."
I turned to find him standing there, adjusting his reddish hair as it fell over his neck, his forearms flexed upwards, strong and massive—like everything about him.
Red and black tattoos adorned his chest, marking his pink nipples, and further down, his well-defined abs where any she-wolf would die to run her tongue down the trail of light hair that hides under the boxer shorts.
'And there's the grand prize.' I walked toward him, resigned to my fate. 'Why did I have to do this? Why?!'
Because I was the maid to a demanding Lycan King, that's why.
***
"I'll try it in a second."
"It's not necessary; I'm in a hurry. Are you trying to poison me?" he suddenly asked, lifting his sharp gaze while seated at the table, ready for dinner.
"N-no, no Lord, of course not," I stammered, and he nodded.
He began to eat, and I retreated to my corner, waiting for his orders. When he finished, he returned to his room.
As I busied myself tidying up the table, a heavy leather pouch landed on the wooden surface beside me with a clink of gold coins inside.
"This is your payment. You can leave the castle today. There's a fair in the pack, and they're selling things you might want," he said from behind me.
"My payment? The Housekeeper didn't tell me I'd be paid," I replied, not daring to touch the pouch, which was clearly overflowing.
"Why not? You're not a slave. I always pay my maids; that's your reward. If you need more, just ask me directly."
Something tightened in my chest.
Truthfully, I did feel like a slave. I never imagined he'd even give me money for my needs, and I knew this was far more than a typical wage.
I heard his footsteps moving away and turned quickly.
"Thank you very much for your generosity, Your Majesty," I said, bowing deeply, both grateful and respectful.
He stepped closer again, and I saw his brown boots cross my lowered gaze.
He said nothing, as if deep in thought. I was about to thank him again when a rough, cold hand fell awkwardly onto my head, patting my hair.
I froze, bent over, feeling like a royal pet. Perhaps I had just been promoted.
"As long as you're loyal to me, you can have whatever you want, Savannah. But never, ever think of betraying me. I wouldn't want to rip off this pretty head of yours."
Of course, he couldn't leave without a threat. Otherwise, he wouldn't be the King.
Finally, he left, and I released the breath I had been holding. My life was a constant rollercoaster of emotions.
I glanced at the money on the table. I didn't plan to spend it frivolously. This was my ticket to escape if I ever needed to run
I just didn't imagine how soon that moment would come.
***
It was late at night when I wandered through the hallways, lighting my way with a simple candelabrum.
I had a long coat over my nightgown and my old slippers—all given to me by the Housekeeper.
I was heading to the King's quarters because I had forgotten to change the sheets, and he was quite meticulous about that.
I took advantage of the fact that he should still be at the celebration and slipped into his room.
With the dim candlelight, I went to the closet to get the replacement sheets.
His bed was enormous, of course, because a man his size needed plenty of space.
The stillness of the room was shattered by a bestial roar that made me jump in fear.
I looked, terrified, at a dark steel door. I had no idea where it led, but I stood in a corner, trembling as more soul-chilling sounds echoed from behind it.
I reminded myself to be cautious, not curious, but something made me grab the candelabrum and approach the half-open door.
It creaked slightly as I opened it wider, revealing dark, narrow stairs leading down into what felt like hell.
I made the mistake of going down, and what I found in that basement would change my life forever.