Lykan
I’m standing with my back to the door, facing the floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a commanding view of Manhattan’s skyline. The same view I’ve stared at for the past three days, trying to forget the hurt in her eyes when I dropped her off like she meant nothing.
Like she doesn’t mean everything.
A soft knock interrupts my brooding.
“Come in.”
I don’t bother turning around; my secretary wouldn’t dare disturb me unless it was absolutely necessary. And there’s only one person I’ve been waiting for.
The door opens with a quiet click, followed by the whisper of heels on marble. I can smell her before I see her, that soft vanilla scent mixed with something uniquely Scarlette that makes my chest tighten and my hardness stir despite everything.
Despite the fact that she wants another man.
I turn slowly, and despite everything, I’m still not immune to the sight of her, with how I find myself inhaling sharply while clenching my hands against the urge to touch her.
She’s wearing a simple navy dress that hugs her curves in all the right places, her auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail that makes her look younger, more vulnerable.
There are shadows under her eyes, like she hasn’t been sleeping.
Her lips are bare, slightly parted, and blood rushes south when I remember how those lips felt under mine.
Enough, Qahiri.
I force my gaze upward, but this is also a mistake because I don’t like seeing the pain in her blue-gray eyes.
It makes me feel guilty...even though I know damn well that I have nothing to be guilty about.
If she’s still thinking of another man even when she’s still with me, I’m no damn saint to stick around in hopes that she would care about me more.
But unfortunately for both of us, our own feelings are not the only thing that matter.
Scarlette’s expression has now turned wary, which is understandable. She’s finally noticed the other person in the room, and I reluctantly make the necessary introductions.
“Ms. Hood.”
She jerks at the sound of my voice, and it has me grinding my teeth. Do I scare her that much now? Or does she simply not want any reminder of her time with me?
“May I introduce our palace’s Chief Steward, Lord Arav? He has been with our family for generations and oversees our personal affairs.”
Arav steps forward and bows low with his trademark blend of grace and dignity.
It comes with the territory, Arav having worked for the royal family since he was in his early teens.
He’s pretty much seen everything and been through everything with us as well.
For the most part of my childhood, tall and gentlemanly Arav has stood as both my second father and royal warden, depending on what the occasion warranted.
“It is an honor to meet you, milady, and I humbly extend my warmest greetings on your engagement to His Highness.”
Damn you, Arav.
Scarlette hasn’t been in the room with us for more than a minute, and shots have already been fired. Arav did never like wasting time pointlessly, and I should have known today wouldn’t be any different.
I turn to Scarlette, and I feel like punching something the moment I see the dismay on her face. Was the idea of being engaged to me truly that horrifying?
“I’m sorry, sir—”
“Please call me Arav, milady.”
The gentle note of friendliness in Arav’s tone seems to throw her off and leaves her blinking. “I...um...thank you. Please call me Scarlette as well.”
“You’re too kind, milady.”
The bemusement in her eyes grows. “Actually, I’m not...” Scarlette throws a helpless look at my direction. “I don’t understand. Aren’t we—”
“We’re still engaged.” There’s no point softening the blow. Nothing will change the truth. We’re both fucked, and that’s the reality of it.
Scarlette starts to laugh but stops when she sees my expression hasn’t changed, and I gesture stiffly to Arav as I force myself to elaborate on the unpleasantness of our current predicament.
“My father has sent him to make clear that word of our engagement has reached the council members in Sharasa.” Each word tastes like ash in my mouth. “Thus, it becomes irrevocable—”
Her face goes white. “But—”
“Unless you’re willing to be executed instead?”
“This isn’t funny,” she says unevenly.
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
Scarlette takes a step back, hitting the arm of a chair. “I’ll go to the police then. Ask for protection from my government—”
Arav clears his throat at this. “I am deeply sorry to be the bearer of ill news, milady, but from the moment you were engaged to His Highness, your American citizenship was immediately relegated to honorary status.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means you’re my property—” The primitive satisfaction that blazes through me as I say the words should disturb me. “—whether you like it or not.” But it doesn’t.
Scarlette loses all color as my words sink in, and the part of me that’s dark, feral, and possessive relishes seeing this. I like to see her helpless like this...mostly because I want her to accept what she should have known from the start.
She. Is. Mine.
“This...” Scarlette starts backing toward the door with a shake of her head. “This is absurd.”
Mine, dammit.
So why is she still trying to deny it?
“You are the one who’s being absurd,” I say coldly. “Which part of what Arav and I have said is not clear enough to you?”
“Everything!”
My lip curls. “And now, you’re being dramatic.”
“Engagements aren’t...it isn’t something you can command!”
“Will you still say that if it were someone else you were being ordered to marry?”
Her eyes widen. “If this is about Vaughn—”
“Say that name again in my presence,” I snarl, “and I swear you’ll—”
“But Vaughn—”
What the fuck?
Jealous rage has me seeing red for a moment.
How dare she challenge and disrespect me like this?
My gaze snaps to Arav. “I need a moment of privacy with my fiancée,” I say tightly. “Will you excuse us?”
“Of course, Your Highness.” Arav’s tone is bland, his face expressionless, but I know he’s already drawing his conclusions about this, and some of it may not be to my liking.
I start moving as soon as Arav turns to leave, and I already have Scarlette trapped against the wall by the door clicks shut behind him.
“S-Sheikh!”
The word slips out in a gasp as my fists slam against the wall on either side of her head. She looks frightened, but I don’t give a damn.
“I warned you, habibti . I would have let you go if you hadn’t fucking pushed me—”
“But I didn’t...I never—”
“Enough.”
I don’t want to hear another word. The more she lies about her feelings for the other man, the more I just fucking hate myself for following in my father’s footsteps, wanting a woman who doesn’t want me in the same way.
“You’re mine, Scarlette,” I growl down at her. “The law has spoken, so deal with it.”
“D-Deal with it?” She tries shoving me off, but her resistance is halfhearted at best, which only whets my desire and feeds me with cruel pleasure. Even now, even furious, she can’t bring herself to truly fight me.
“I am not yours—”
“Shall I show you how untrue those words are?”
Her eyes widen in panic. Good . It’s nice to know she’s still a wise girl...who only happens to have poor taste in men.
But that can be corrected.
“Let me go!”
Starting now .
Instead of releasing her, I cup her face in my hands and crush my mouth to hers. She makes a sound of protest that dies the moment my tongue finds hers. Her hands fist in my shirt—not to push me away, but to pull me closer.
She tastes like desperation and want, and when I bite her lower lip, she moans into my mouth.
“Tell me you don’t want this,” I rasp against her lips.
She doesn’t answer. Can’t answer, because we both know it would be a lie.
My hand slides down her body, over the curve of her breast, the dip of her waist, until I’m bunching her dress up around her hips. Her breathing comes in short pants now, her head thrown back against the wall.
“Lykan,” she gasps, and my name on her lips is like a prayer and a curse all at once.
I slip my hand between her thighs, and she’s already wet for me. So wet it makes my vision blur with need.
“This is what your body thinks about belonging to me...” My fingers tease her flesh, which have already turned the scrap of fabric covering her womanhood soaking wet. “This is what honesty looks like, habibti .”
She shakes her head even as she whimpers, her mind warring against her flesh, even as her hips start bucking up and down.
Another whimper spills past her lips when she hears and feels me ripping her panties off. I slide one finger inside of her, and her mouth falls open, eyes fluttering shut as she lets out a broken cry that has every inch of me throbbing hard with need.
She’s so tight. So perfect. And the way she clenches around my finger makes me want to drive into her until she forgets every name except mine.
I add a second finger, and my Scarlette arches against the wall.
“Look at me,” I command.
When she opens her eyes, they’re glazed with need, pupils blown wide.
“Who do you belong to?”
She tries to shake her head, but I curl my fingers inside her, finding that spot that makes her whole body jerk.
“Say it.”
“I can’t—”
I withdraw my fingers completely, and she actually whimpers at the loss.
“Then you don’t get to come.”
The desperation in her eyes is beautiful. “Lykan, please—”
“Please what?” I brush my thumb over her clit, just enough to make her gasp. “Please make you come? Please show you exactly who owns this body?”
I slide my fingers back inside her, deeper this time, and start working her with ruthless precision. She’s panting now, her nails digging into my shoulders as I drive her higher.
“Please,” she sobs.
“Please what, habibti ?”
“Please don’t stop.”
But I do stop. Right when she’s on the edge, right when she’s about to shatter. She cries out in frustration, her hips bucking against my hand.
“Wrong answer,” I tell her. “Try again.”
This time when I touch her, she breaks almost immediately. Her orgasm tears through her like a storm, and she screams my name as she comes apart in my hands.
But it’s not enough. Not nearly enough.
I sweep her up in my arms and carry her to the leather couch. She’s limp and boneless from her climax, but her eyes are still hazy with want when I lay her down.
“Lykan, wait—”
But I’m done waiting. Done pretending this isn’t inevitable.
I strip off my shirt and move over her, positioning myself between her thighs. The head of my cock presses against her entrance, and she’s so wet I could slide into her in one thrust.
But I force myself to stop.
To ask the question that will change everything.
“Who do you belong to?”
Resistance flashes across her face, then fear, then frustration. But desire wins in the end. It always does with us.
“Yours,” she chokes out. “I’m yours, Lykan.”