The Lycan King's Puppet

He was lying on the bed, covered up to his chest. Most of the curtains were thrown open to usher in the sunlight, nearly blinding her with the brightness.

The sounds of the activities being carried out below sifted into the room through the open windows.

After letting her eyes take in his large and magnificent room, she finally looked at him. Really looked at him.

"Your Grace. I see you’re recovering well." He was still smiling - he had been smiling long before she came in, it seemed. A lazy smiled that drew yet unnerved her.

"Andon just told me the most interesting thing." He said in a silky drawl, his eyes twinkling.

Andon lowered his face to hide his sheepish grin as he backed towards the door in case he needed to flee.

Curious, she sat at the edge of the bed and folded her hand in her lap, aware of the soft creak it made each time she adjusted her position.

"What did he tell you?" She sounded playful as well, her voice mimicking his in allure.

He gestured for her to come closer with his good hand.

Never having seen this side of him, she inched closer, mostly because she didn’t want him to stop acting like a devious little boy.

He held her neck and pulled her until her ear was very close to his lips, too close.

Then he whispered, "Andon told me that you cried for me. You were afraid I would die."

His warm breath tickled her skin, and the hand at her nape only seemed to encourage the thrilling rush of heat coursing through her veins.

She turned to fix her most humbling glare at Andon, who pretended to cower with an impish grin on his handsome face.

"I did not."

Her attempt at lying was followed by raised eyebrows from both men.

"Even now, your eyes are swollen."

Claire’s hands instinctively rose to touch the corners of her eyes. They felt puffy.

"It must be my lack of sleep. I would never waste a tear on you."

Yeren smirked, his hand shooting out to catch her wrists before she could retreat.

Nodding, Andon left the room and closed the door behind him.

"I preferred when you were frail. At least then, I didn’t have to be constantly reminded of how strong you are."

His grip on her wrist loosened all at once.

Then his face turned serious.

"I didn’t mean to make you sick with worry. I heard you haven’t eaten since dawn yesterday."

She blinked once. Then again.

He was worried about her?

"I should be the one worried about you, idiot."

He chuckled, a low and deep sound that made something in her abdomen flutter.

"If you call me idiot one more time, I’ll be tempted to prove the difference between myself and an idiot."

"The differences wouldn’t be vast - if at all they exist." She smirked back at him.

"Try me and find out."

"Idiot..."

Before she could even register a single thought, she was tugged until she found herself on the bed.

He groaned slightly when she hit his injured arm, but refused to relent.

Her dress had ridden up to her thighs, and through her stockings, she could feel his bare legs.

He was naked beneath the covers. She blushed crimson as the temptation to peer inside nagged at her.

"I remember you telling me that you would rather have me torn in half by a rogue than return safely to wed another. What changed?"

Claire bit her lower lip as she pretended to ponder on his question.

Of course, she had no intention of answering.

"May I see your wound?" She said after a moment of tense silence.

He made lying on the same bed as him feel like a very normal occurrence.

If anyone stumbled upon them, she would be publicly scandalised.

He surprised her by removing his limp arm from beneath the covers. It looked purple from the bruises but the blue-ish pallor on his skin had vanished.

"How do you feel?"

"Like ten thousand bulls stuck their horns through my arm."

Then, in one swift movements, he was on top of her.

"Why are you so concerned about me?"

"Because someone has to be."

"That isn’t an answer, Miss Stenly."

Heat crept up her cheeks.

"What do you want to hear, then? That I love you?" She pushed up from the bed and slid down before he could catch her.

"I’ve already admitted that I love a crazed idiot who would never see it until it is thrust in his face like dung from a farm."

He struggled to sit up with one arm, blinking furiously.

"I would never see it when all you remind me of is my sins against your future. I’m hardly to blame here, Claire." Her name slipped out.

"Hardly to blame?"

He sat upright and threw the covers off, startling her with the sight of him.

"You’re the one playing hide and seek."

She struggled to take her eyes off the rigid sword in front of her. "That’s because you would never marry me. Being a mistress is much more disgraceful than being a Cupbearer with access to the King’s bed in your eyes. How blind you are!"

He paused, his mouth opening to say something then closing silently.

Claire shrank back, regretting the hateful words she said immediately after she said them.

Now, she looked like a bitter woman to him, someone that harboured a grudge over circumstances that neither of them could control.

"I never thought you..." He trailed off.

She waited patiently, hoping he would finish his sentence.

He never thought she would...?

Suddenly realising he was completely bare to her view, he snagged a dressing robe off the chair beside the bed with his good hand and roughly draped it over himself.

"What would you have me do?"

She could see he was still weak from the way he leant heavily against the bed post.

"Don’t listen to anything I say. I’m just a hopeless woman who is stupid enough to believe that my dreams would one day overcome reality-"

Before she could finish talking, his lips covered hers, making her forget everything she planned to say.