The Lycan King's Wrong Obsession novel Sorin Carter (by Circeleari) novel Chapter 11

Chapter 11

I don’t turn at first. I don’t have to

That voice has been etched into my bones for years.

Slowly–like I’m bracing for impact–1 pivot on the balls of my feet.

And there he is.

Alaric Hayes.

The Alpha King.

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Six–foot–eleven of broad–shouldered, black–haired, amber–eyed langer standing in my cell’s balcony as though he owns it- which, technically, he does. The cold air whips through his shirt outlining every carved muscle, and he’s looking at me as if I’m a stolen treasure he’s about to reclaim.

That look, I really don’t understand it.

My chest tightens. My hands itch to push him away. My legs want to bolt. Neither will move.

“What the hell are you doing here?” My voice comes out sharper than I intend, but it’s either that or let it shake. I grit my teeth as I glare at him harder. “And how did you even get in?”

The corner of his mouth lifts slowly as he eyes me up and down like he’s savoring the fact I even had to ask. Goosebumps rise in my skin and I shift my body away from his gaze. He always had that look on him, a look that feels like he’s about to swallow me whole.

“I’m the King, sweetheart. I get in anywhere I want.”

I roll my eyes because it’s easier than admitting how my pulse just spiked. I scoff and look away with annoyance. “Right. Except this isn’t like when you used to visit months ago. I’m not Luna anymore, Your Highness. I’m a prisoner.”

He steps closer, and the balcony suddenly feels two sizes too small. I don’t step back as I held my gaze up at him. If he thinks he can scare me, he truly does. But he doesn’t have to know about it.

“Prisoner or not–you’re still mine.” His voice is gravelly as I let those crimson orbs rake me up and down.

I ignore that and lean my elbows back against the railing and look down instead, letting my eyes sweep the training ground again. My stomach knots when I see him once again–Wade–down below, shirt off, sweat slicking his skin under the late

sun.

As if feeling my stare, his head tilts up again. His brows draw together, squinting like he’s trying to figure out who the hell I’m talking to. He’s probably weirded out now that I’ve stared at him twice. That bastard might think I’m still desperate to want him back.

We hold the look for a beat too long. The kind of beat that tastes like bitter history.

Then, out of nowhere, a strong arm snakes around my waist and yanks me back from the railing. “Ah!” I shriek as our gaze gets cut off and I’m pulled off.

I stumble forward into a chest that’s all heat and iron muscle, my breath catching from the force. My palms hit hard planes, and I’m suddenly staring up into eyes that are pure molten gold

“I like my women paying attention when I’m talking,” Alaric says voice low enough to scrape across my skin. Il swallow a breath and stare straight at him. “Not looking down at something else.”

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Chapter 11

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“Something else?” I manage, though my words are unsteady Mysts are already bunched in his shirt, and I hate how natural it feels. I’m shaking and I know he can feel every beat of my puleng chest in his own. I’m only at his shoulder level for Goddess sake and I’m pretty tall already

“Someone else,” he corrects, his gaze dipping to my mouth for a fraction of a second before returning to my eyes

We just look at each other.

It’s not silence. It’s static. The kind that hums in your bones right before lightning strikes.

“Just come with me,” he says finally, his tone soft but not gentle. More like a command disguised as a plea. “I’ll get you out of here. I’ll do anything for you. All you have to do is say yes, and you’ll sit above everything. My promise months ago hasn’t changed.”

My lungs feel too tight, my voice barely a whisper. “Why?”

The word sticks in my throat. I force the rest out. “Why do you want me? I don’t have anything anymore. I’m branded with treason. I’m nothing.”

His expression darkens–not with anger, but with certainty.

“You are mine. And that’s enough.”

Before I can process it, his head dips, and I feel the heat of his breath against my skin. His lips graze down the side of my neck–slowly, erotically–until his nose is in the curve where my pulse is thudding, inhaling like he’s drowning and I’m the

air.

My fingers curl tighter into his shirt, knuckles white. I don’t pull away.

And I hate that I don’t.

The scrape of his stubble is the first thing I feel–rough and warm against the soft skin of my neck. His mouth follows. unhurried, like every inch of me is something he’s reclaiming. The air is cold, but the heat rolling off his body is enough to fog my thoughts.

“Alaric…” I mean it as a warning. Or maybe a plea. I can’t tell anymore. It leaves my throat softer than I want, like the sound gets caught halfway between resistance and surrender.

He doesn’t stop. His palm moves up my spine, slow and deliberate, the heat of it bleeding through the thin cotton of my shirt. When it reaches the back of my neck, his fingers curl, holding me in place–not hard, but in a way that makes me feel like moving away isn’t even an option. My chest is against his now, his breath ghosting over my jaw.

“Say it again,” he murmurs, voice low enough to vibrate against my skin.

I swallow, and my heartbeat stumbles. The part of me that remembers everything–how he kissed me the first time, how he made me feel like I belonged somewhere–wants to say his name again. But another part, the one that’s lived in this cage, branded as a traitor, wants to shove him hard enough to make him vanish.

Before I can decide, movement catches in the corner of my vision.

Wade.

Still on the training ground.

He’s stopped mid–step, shirt clinging to him with sweat, a hand anging loose at his side like he’s forgotten what he was doing. His head is tilted just enough to tell me he’s looking direly at me.

Or at us.

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Chapter it

My machtwest a rush of heat crawling up my throat

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Alaric motors. I can feel the subtle shift in his stance—the way his arm tightens around my waist like he’s just been handed the perfect excuse to make a point. He doesn’t look down at Wad, but I can hear the smirk in his voice when he says, “He’s wanching Let him”

The words land like a challenge, not just to Wade, but to me

“Alark-“I start but the rest gets swallowed Not by his mouth on mine, not exactly, but by the drag of his lips across them -just enough to steal my breath without taking it all. The worst part is the restraint. It’s as though he’s telling me without saying it that he could take more if he wanted. That I’d let him.

And for a heartbeat too long. I might.

Then something in me snaps.

I shove hard at his chest, my palms hitting muscle so solid it barely gives, but enough to put space between us. The cold air rushes in like a slap.

Stop playing whatever game this is.” My voice is sharper now, cutting through the haze he’s been weaving around me.

He doesn’t flinch. His eyes flare for just a second, then settle into that maddening, unreadable calm. “This isn’t a game, darling. You think I came here to taunt you in front of him?” He steps forward again, forcing me back until the railing digs into the small of my spine. “I came because I meant what I said months ago. I don’t care what they’ve branded you with. I don’t care what they’ve taken from you. You are still mine and I will take you, whenever you want it or not.”

His nearness is suffocating–in the way that makes my lungs burn, but not from lack of air. I can feel the heat radiating off him, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the faint trace of something wild and woodsmoke clinging to his skin.

“I don’t have anything left.” I say, and it comes out smaller than I mean. “I’m branded with treason. I’m nothing.”

The look in his eyes doesn’t soften. It sharpens. “You are mine. And that’s enough.”

I look down to where Wade is again and his stance is different now, it’s as though he’s suspecting something. Alaric must sense it too, because his palm slides to my hip, thumb pressing into the bone in a way that makes my breath hitch. His other hand comes up, fingers brushing along my jaw, tilting my face up to his.

“Look at me. Sorin.” he says. “Not at him.”

And gods help me. I do.

His eyes are molten, amber burning with something between possession and promise. The space between us shrinks until I can feel the heat of his breath again, his mouth hovering just close enough to make my lips ache from not touching his.

“Say yes,” he murmurs. “And I’ll take you out of here. Right now. No more waiting. No more walls. Just us.”

The offer slices through me. Freedom, at the cost of stepping right back into his world–into him.

I don’t answer.

And that’s all the answer he needs to keep trying.

He takes my mouth in his again and I can’t tell if I’m breathing just letting him steal the air from my lungs.

Every movement is on purpose–slow enough to drive me mad teep enough to make my heart stutter.

His hands are anchors at my hips, fingers digging through the thin fabric like he could brand his name into me. My own hands hover on his chest, palms pressing against muscle that feels like steel beneath the heat of his shirt. I don’t know if I’m trying to shove him away or hold him there until I collapse.

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Chapter 11

My stomach twists, a rush of heat crawling up my throat

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Alaric notices. I can feel the subtle shift in his stance the way harm tightens around my waist like he’s just been handed the perfect excuse to make a point. He doesn’t look down at War, but I can hear the smirk in his voice when he says. “He’s watching. Let him.”

The words land like a challenge, not just to Wade, but to me,

“Alaric-“I start, but the rest gets swallowed. Not by his mouth mine, not exactly, but by the drag of his lips across them just enough to steal my breath without taking it all. The worst part is the restraint. It’s as though he’s telling me without saying it that he could take more if he wanted. That I’d let him.

And for a heartbeat too long, I might

Then something in me snaps.

I shove hard at his chest, my palms hitting muscle so solid it barely gives, but enough to put space between us. The cold air rushes in like a slap.

“Stop playing whatever game this is.” My voice is sharper now, cuting through the haze he’s been weaving around me.

He doesn’t flinch. His eyes flare for just a second, then settle into that maddening, unreadable calm. “This isn’t a game, darling. You think I came here to taunt you in front of him?” He steps forward again, forcing me back until the railing digs into the small of my spine. “I came because I meant what I said months ago. I don’t care what they’ve branded you with. I don’t care what they’ve taken from you. You are still mine and I will take you, whenever you want it or not.”

His nearness is suffocating–in the way that makes my lungs bur, but not from lack of air. I can feel the heat radiating off him, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the faint trace of something wild and woodsmoke clinging to his skin.

“I don’t have anything left,” I say, and it comes out smaller than mean. “I’m branded with treason. I’m nothing.”

The look in his eyes doesn’t soften. It sharpens. “You are mine. And that’s enough.”

I look down to where Wade is again and his stance is different now, it’s as though he’s suspecting something. Alaric must sense it too, because his palm slides to my hip, thumb pressing into the bone in a way that makes my breath hitch. His other hand comes up, fingers brushing along my jaw, tilting my face up to his.

“Look at me, Sorin,” he says. “Not at him.”

And gods help me, I do.

His eyes are molten, amber burning with something between possession and promise. The space between us shrinks until I can feel the heat of his breath again, his mouth hovering just close enough to make my lips ache from not touching his.

“Say yes,” he murmurs. “And I’ll take you out of here. Right now. No more waiting. No more walls. Just us.”

The offer slices through me. Freedom, at the cost of stepping right back into his world–into him.

I don’t answer.

And that’s all the answer he needs to keep trying.

He takes my mouth in his again and I can’t tell if I’m breathing just letting him steal the air from my lungs.

Every movement is on purpose–slow enough to drive me madleep enough to make my heart stutter.

His hands are anchors at my hips, fingers digging through the tn fabric like he could brand his name into me. My own hands hover on his chest, palms pressing against muscle that feel like steel beneath the heat of his shirt. I don’t know if I’m trying to shove him away or hold him there until I collapse.

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16:31 Sat, Dec 20 G GA

Chapter 11

The worst part is–he knows it.

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He kisses like he’s unraveling me stitch by stitch, there’s no rush because he’s certain I’ll break for him eventually.

When he finally drags his mouth from mine, it’s only to trail lor, skimming my cheekbone, grazing my jaw. His breath is hot, damp against my skin. I smell him–clean spice and the fat metallic tang that always clings to him, like blood he hasn’t quite washed away.

Then his lips find the hollow beneath my car

The first brush of his tongue there makes my knees threaten miny. My spine stiffens but my head tips, giving him access before I realize I’ve done it.

His teeth catch my skin, just sharp enough to make my pulse thb in the bite. I hear my own breath hitch, hear the low sound in my throat that I didn’t mean to make.