Rath.
As I sat in my office, the pile of paperwork in front of me mocked my lack of focus. My thoughts refused to settle on work, instead orbiting around one irritating subject: Dahlia Immaculate Webb. Her file was sprawled across my desk, an unwelcome reminder of her presence. The girl-no, the human-had marched into my life, dragging along this dossier and a neatly signed transfer of territories from her human leaders on the day of our wedding. How romantic.
With a groan, I picked up the file and skimmed its contents again, as though I hadn't already memorized every irritating detail.
Dahlia Webb, age: twenty-three.
And here I was, a 178-year-old Lycan Wolf King, mentally grappling with a girl young enough to be... well, my great-great-great-something granddaughter. Lycans age slower than humans, sure, but apparently, they don't mature emotionally because here I was, obsessing over a mortal.
She had an intriguing backstory, to say the least. Survivor of a mass su.icide at the Church of Lightens? Check. Raised by the Catholic Church? Double check. Blessed-or cursed-with an IQ that made her a human calculator? Triple check. She had top scores in math and physics and senses so sharp they could rival a wolf's. Yet, none of this explained why she'd set up camp in my brain like an annoying tenant who refused to pay rent.
Then there were her pictures. I glared at them like they were personally responsible for my current predicament. Each image radiated an ex.otic, almost ethereal beauty that felt designed to ruin my day. Her almond-shaped, blue-green eyes could probably reduce lesser men to blubbering fools, while her sculpted cheekbones, straight nose, and heart-shaped lips seemed specifically engineered to test my willpower.
She wasn't just beautiful; she was otherworldly. And infuriating.
What baffled me most, though, was why the humans had given her away so easily. Sure, the reports boasted about her intellect and heightened senses, but there was something else about her-a deeper value, like handing over the Mona Lisa in exchange for a knock-off landscape painting. My instincts screamed that there was more to this than I was seeing.
And my instincts were rarely wrong.
I slammed the file shut, the pictures staring up at me like they knew something I didn't. There was an aura about her that I couldn't shake, a presence that gnawed at the edges of my control. Whatever it was, it had captured my attention.
And if she wasn't careful, it would capture my eli.mination list too.
---
"Where is the human girl?" I asked after dinner, breaking the silence with the subtle grace of a cannonball.
"She's already retired to her room, sir. Shall I wake her up?" Billie asked, her tone cautious, as if bracing for the drama I was clearly about to bring.
"No, you don't have to," I replied, downing a glass of water like it was whiskey. Dahlia's scent still lingered in the air, teasing me like a pie cooling on a windowsill in a cartoon. It was mad.deningly sweet-cranberry vanilla, the scent of bad decisions and emotional turmoil.
I stared at the table, my frustration building. She was supposed to be a pawn in my grand, power-hungry schemes, yet here I was, obsessing over her like some angsty teenager writing bad poetry.
"Sir, if I may-" Billie started, but I silenced her with a dramatic wave of my hand.
"Do not speak of her," I snapped, though my voice lacked its usual edge. Honestly, even I wasn't convinced. Billie's expression screamed Really? This again?
As the night crept in, I found myself pacing like a character in a telenovela. My thoughts refused to leave Dahlia alone, which was incredibly annoying since I had an empire to run, evil plans to execute, and far better things to do than moon over some human girl.
I poured myself another glass of water. Spo.iler: it didn't help.
Eventually, I made my way to her room. Apparently, she thought shoving a sofa against the door was enough to keep me out. Cute. It was almost as if she hadn't noticed that I was a 178-year-old Lycan king who could ri.p the door off its hinges with one hand while filing my claws with the other.
Naturally, I chose the more theatrical option: entering through the unlocked balcony door. Seriously, did this girl think I wouldn't notice? Rookie mistake.
Her scent hit me like a freight train the moment I stepped inside.I scanned the room. She wasn't on the bed, but rather under it. Bold move, Dahlia. Bold but ineffective.
I crouched down, peering under the bed like a predator toying with its prey. Our eyes locked. Her expression shifted from Oh no to Oh no, no, no in record time. She rolled away, making a break for the bathroom, but I was faster.
"Nice try," I muttered as I caught her arm and pulled her back. She let out a gasp as I tossed her onto the bed with the kind of ease that only comes with being a supernatural alpha predator.
She scrambled back, glaring at me with wide, defiant eyes. My heart raced at the sight. Not because I was scared-please-but because she looked equal parts te.rrified and ready to fight me with a decorative pillow.
Her red silk nightdress clung to her like it had been designed specifically to test my self-control, which, wasn't holding up well. She had a body that could make a m.onk reconsider his vows.
"You're persistent, I'll give you that," I said, my smirk equal parts charm and menace.
This was going to be fun. Te.rrible for my plans, but fun.
******
Dahlia .
Fear surged through me as I landed on the bed, my heart hammering like it was auditioning for a drum solo. His eyes locked onto mine, brimming with a hunger that was equal parts help me and what even is my life right now. I'd hoped the sofa blockade would do the trick, but clearly, I'd underestimated his ability to bypass basic furniture logic.
Now here I was-trapped in a bedroom that suddenly felt more like an escape room designed by a sa.dist with a flair for opulence.
He stalked toward me with all the subtlety of a wolf circling its dinner, every movement oozing that "I own this place-and you" vibe. It was a lot to handle, honestly. I couldn't decide if I was more terrified or weirdly impressed by his predatory grace.
But panic wasn't going to help me now, so I took a deep, calming breath, channeling every ounce of advice the nuns had ever given me. (Stay strong. Stay focused. Don't panic in the face of potential supernatural weirdness.)
"Please," I signed, my hands trembling like leaves in a storm. If desperation were an Olympic sport, I'd be taking home gold right now.
To my dismay, his lips curled into the kind of smirk that screamed Oh, you poor, sweet thing. Great. The pre.dator was amused. Just what I needed.
****
Rath.
Dahlia 's pleading signs gave me pause, but only for a moment. Her innocence was intox.icating, yet I needed to know if she truly was a v!rg!n before I could decide her fate. I leaned in closer, feeling the pulse of her fear and purity.
"I understand you can read lips. I want to see if you actually are a v!rg!n. Take o.ff your clothes!" I ordered.
To my surprise, she grinned despite the rapid beating of her tiny heart. Instead of obeying, she raised both of her middle fingers proudly.
This little tw.at chooses guts over fear!
"Did you just tell me 'f!ck you?'" I asked, taken aback by her audacity.
She repeated the gesture, her eyes flashing with defiance. Angered by this ridiculous behavior, I decided to take control in a way she wouldn't forget. If she wanted to play games, I would show her who was in charge. I was determined to plunge inside her, to make her understand that I was not the one to be messed with.
In a swift motion, I positioned myself on the bed, laying over her, my weight pinning her down. She reached behind the pillow, and before I could react, she sprayed something into my face. Instantly, a sharp sting flared in my eyes, and I recoiled, trying to wipe away whatever the hell she had used.
By the time I regained my senses, she had already bolted out of the room, leaving me momentarily stunned. Rage bubbled up inside me, mingling with an unexpected thrill at her audacity. As I blinked furiously to clear my vision, I cursed under my breath.
When I catch her, I will break her spine with a punch. But as angry as I was, deep down, I knew I wasn't even using a third of my strength. A part of me found joy in this little playful game. Why the f!ck was I getting turned on by this? Argh!
D!sgusting.
I quickly composed myself, my instincts kicking in. I could feel her nearby; I was attuned to her energy, the way a predator senses its prey.
**************
Dahlia .
I ran as far as my legs could carry me, darting out of the kitchen and toward the front door. I knew he would somehow find me, but I was glad I had made a makeshift pepper spray from a mixture of soap and hidden it behind my pillow, just in case he decided to come in.
The outside was eerily silent. Crickets chirped in the moonlit night, casting an enchanting glow over everything. I turned around to see if he was following me, but in my haste, I collided with something solid.
I dropped to the ground, scrambling back up in a panic.
"You underestimate me, Dahlia , and I don't like it," he said, his lips dripping with me.nace.
I tried to run again, but he quickly seized my arms, his grip like iron. My heart raced, panic flooding my veins. His legs pinned mine down, preventing any chance I had to kick him away.
His strength was overwhelming. I struggled against him, but it felt futile. His grip was getting tighter, and I had to think fast.
A lightbulb flickered to life in my mind. I remembered that wolves had higher stamina than humans, making them more easily aro.used. I hated the thought of using such a tactic, but I was desperate.
I wiggled against him slightly, testing my plan. He struggled to keep his hold as I moved my body against his, hoping to provoke him. My bre.asts pressed against his chest as I whined my waist making sure it made contact with his crotch. With him on top of me, it felt like I had a slim chance to escape.
Caught off guard by my unexpected movement, he released his grip on my arms, but it wasn't a moment of freedom. Instead, he yanked my hair, forcing me to look directly into his eyes.
"Trying to make me ho.rny, are you? Move again, and I swear I'll rip every single strand of hair from your scalp. I need you to stay still so I can rid you and watch you d.ie. I h.ate every one of you humans," he spat, each word dripping with invisible ve.nom.
His grip on my hair was unyielding, and I shook my head, tears brimming in my eyes. I felt hopeless as he reached his free hand toward my stomach.
He was going to punch me. I braced myself, anticipating the pain, preparing for the worst. I waited to feel the impact, to feel blood oozing from the wound. But nothing happened.
Time seemed to freeze as I stared at him, my eyebrows knitting together like two caterpillars having an existential crisis. He hadn't moved; instead, his fist hovered near my abdomen like it was debating whether to punch me or order takeout. The fury in his eyes wavered for a moment, replaced by something else-maybe doubt, maybe the realization he left the oven on.
He stared at me with an emotionless glare, his face so inscrutable I half-wondered if he was auditioning for a poker commercial. The intensity of his scrutiny made me feel like a pop quiz was coming, and I had definitely skipped class.
The disappointment on his face was baffling, like he'd expected me to pull a magic trick out of thin air and I'd failed to deliver. What was he searching for? My sense of dignity? If so, good luck; I'd misplaced it years ago.
His grip on my hair loosened, just enough to give me false hope that I could escape. For one glorious second, I thought I might actually make it. But then, as if reading my mind, he tightened his hold again. Not enough to hurt-no, that would be too straightforward-but just enough to say, "Nice try, genius."
A warm sensation glided over my dress, and my heart raced as I realized it was his hand moving lower. Panic coursed through me, but there was an unsettling thrill that accompanied it.
My lips parted in shock as his fingers brushed against my labial lips, and a bolt of electricity shot through me. My body trembled, overwhelmed by the unexpected rush of heat. I had never felt anything like this before, and the shame washed over me. Was I really getting arou.sed by him, by this dang.erous man?
His eyes remained locked onto mine, deepening the intensity of the moment. He cupped me gently, and I couldn't help but feel a mix of confusion and unwanted plea.sure. My body responded instinctively, heat pooling in my core, and I hated that I liked it.
In a surge of courage, I summoned all the strength I had l
eft. I pushed against him with my free hand, desperate to regain some control. To my surprise, the force of my effort prompted him to release his grip. What the hell was he doing?