The Lycan King's Wrong Obsession novel Sorin Carter (by Circeleari) novel Chapter 1

My Sweet Little Luna,

It’s been far too long since I’ve seen that pretty scowl of yours. I wonder, does it deepen when you read my words? Do you bite that plush bottom lip, trying to hide the way I make you squirm?

You fight me so deliciously, Sorin. If only you knew how much it excites me.

But I digress. I grow impatient. I tire of these games you play, these futile little rejections. You will be mine. Whether you come to me willingly or not is up to you, but I do hope you choose the former.

P.S. When will you stop pretending your heart belongs to someone else? It’s adorable, really.

Your King,

Alaric Hayes

The bastard wrote me another letter.

I stare at the parchment, the King’s seal mocking me with its regal wax imprint. A part of me debates just setting it on fire—right here on my damn desk—but I know better.

The last time I ignored one of Alaric Hayes’ letters, I found an entire set of warriors stationed outside my window, watching me like I was some kind of elusive prey.

Obsessed freak.

“What a prick,” I mutter, rolling up my reply with far more force than necessary.

His letters makes my blood boil, and not for the reasons he likely hoped. This man isn’t just brazen; he’s goddamn reckless. If Wade ever caught wind of these exchanges, there’d be blood spilled.

The kind that didn’t wash out easily.

“Pretty little scowl? Plush bottom lips? Is this a fucking joke?” I mutter, crumpling the paper slightly before forcing myself to smooth it out. Destroying his words would be giving him the satisfaction of knowing he got under my skin.

“Let’s see how you like this, your Majesty,” I say under my breath, dipping my pen into the inkpot on my desk. My handwriting, usually neat, looks like it’s been attacked by my frustration as I scribble out my response:

“Alpha Hayes,

Your theatrics are wasted on me.

If you continue this ridiculous pursuit, I will be forced to bring it to the attention of the council. You are stalking me, and as you are well aware, that is both unbecoming of a king and a punishable offense.

I am busy preparing for my actual Alpha’s return, someone with whom I share a future, not a distraction.

Do not send another letter.

Sincerely,

Sorin Carter, Luna of the Woodridge Pack.”

Satisfied, I fold the letter and stand. I sure hope this gets that man to stop.

I dry the ink with quick, sharp movements before folding the parchment and sealing it. As if on cue, a shadow moves just outside the open balcony doors.

The soft shuffle behind me reminded me I’m not alone. I turn to face the Alpha King’s assassin, a lanky, sharp-eyed man who looks like he’d much rather be anywhere else than here.

“Creepy,” I mutter under my breath.

The secret courier slips inside, silent as death. He wears the King’s sigil on his chest, his eyes never quite meeting mine as he extends a gloved hand. I slap the letter into his palm.

His shoulders tensed up as if expecting me to throw something at him—an understandable reaction, really, after last week’s incident with the inkpot.

“Here,” I mutter, handing over the letter. “Make sure he gets it. And stays far away from me.”

The man’s lips twitched as if he wanted to say something but thought better of it. With a stiff bow, he disappears through the secret passage of my walls.

Fucking Alpha King. Why can’t he understand that I’m basically married?

I exhale and turn towards the open window. The breeze carries the scents of pine and damp earth, grounding me in the here and now. My chest ache with anticipation.

Wade is coming home today. Finally.

The door to my study burst open, the oak wood slamming against the wall.

“Miss Sorin!”

An omega servant stumbles in, panting, her wide eyes flicking to me. “The Alpha and his troops—they’ve crossed the border and is coming all the way here now!”

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