The Lycan King's Wrong Obsession novel Sorin Carter (by Circeleari) novel Chapter 18

Chapter 18

“Because he said he’s bringing back his queen”

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The words still ring in my head when I find myself staring at my reflection, wearing a faded gray uniform that smells like starch. The fabric is scratchy against my skin, the sleeves too short, collar strangling. It feels less like clothing and more like a leash.

Behind me, a voice cuts through the silence, a tad too sharp and nocking.

“What? You don’t like the Omega’s uniform? What are you then highborn? A Luna?”

Snickers follow and a chorus of cruelty echoing in the laundry room where half the maids are mending linens and folding sheets. My eyes flick up to the mirror again. The girl smirking at me has cropped blonde hair and arms that look like she wrestles boulders for fun. Muscles flex as she tosses another shirt into the basket, her dark eyes glinting with the kind of malice that doesn’t need a reason.

Her friends laugh louder, egging her on. One of them even mutters, “She looks more barbaric than noble to me. Maybe she used to wrestle pigs before she stumbled in here.”

I don’t even flinch. I’ve heard worse. Way worse. Still, my jaw tightens.

A soft hand nudges my arm. I glance sideways to see Tully–one of the kinder Omegas who actually spoke to me when the others didn’t. She leans closer, whispering, “Don’t mind her. She loves to get inside people’s heads. That’s Roslin.”

Roslin. The Luna’s official servant. Great.

I drag my gaze back to the mirror, to the icy silver eyes staring back at me. My face is pale, tired, but my scars are healing. I’m still here. Still breathing. That alone makes me dangerous.

Roslin must notice me staring, because she suddenly rises, chair scraping against the stone floor with an ear–splitting screech. She stalks toward me, steps heavy as though she wants every person in this room to watch what comes next.

“You got a problem?” she asks, chin jutting forward. She’s close enough that I can smell the iron tang of sweat on her skin, her hot breath brushing my cheek.

I slowly turn, facing her fully. If it’s a fight she’s looking for, I won’t be the one to back down.

“Do you know why your precious Luna still isn’t Queen yet?”

Her eyes darken instantly, fury flashing so quick it’s almost satisfying.

I tilt my head, smirking. “Or is she even Luna at all if the King is looking for another woman?”

The slap comes faster than I expect. My head whips to the side, sharp sting spreading across my cheek. I taste blood, metallic and hot, as it slides to the corner of my mouth.

I let out a humorless laugh. “That all you got?”

Her snarl is the only warning I get before she lunges, shoving me back against the table. The wood rattles, linens spilling to the floor. My elbow jabs into her ribs, and I push, flipping her weight off me. She crashes against a chair, splintering it under

her.

The room explodes with shouts. Omegas rush in, grabbing at both of us. My lip is split, her nose is bleeding, and yet we’re still clawing to get at each other. Her nails rake across my forear, leaving angry red marks. My fist finds her jaw, snapping her head sideways before someone yanks me back by the waist.

“Enough!”

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ess the fad mand met uit waving a band Bothod you My office Hom

dudden the hall past wple syrit imega whispering behind their hands sur’s deder brushes mine ke the daring me in swing spain I don’t for ye

The head mand’s offer mile hike in and here shelves of todded linens bine one wall ledgers Marked laugh on the cather eh dann bersell to fund the deak, lips pursed night

“Vim beni audit enough commotion in wake the ancestors. We do not have time for petty expidades, especially pod today In your understand met Her voice is low, controlled fury

Before rither of us can answer, the door swings open

And the walks in

The Lam

Camila Pierce as they call her

she’s every bit the part elegant in a flowing dress of emerald el, hair glossy black, lips painted a poisonous red. She doesn’t just enter room, she consum

ns, instantly bowing The head mand bows, too

I don’t move.

Because she’s not my Emma. And I sure as hell won’t how to a workman who plays dress–up in a title,

Camila’s steps me unburned, a predator’s grace wrapped in vely, she doesn’t look at anyone else as she comes to stand in front of me With deliberate slowness, she nhs my chin up with Ben fingers, forcing me to meet her gaze. Her nails dig just

nough to remind she could claw deeper if she wanted,

“What did she say?” Her voice is soft, dangerous.

“Nothing of importance, Luna” the head maid interrupts quick, her tone almost panicked.

Camila doesn’t break eye contact with me, “I asked Roslin”

Roslin bows her head lower, voice trembling with both rage and if you were even Luna

erence. “She questioned your authority, Luna. She asked

if the King is looking for another que

The silence that follows is suffocating Canila’s eyes burn into ine, molten and venomous. My lip throbs, my cheek stings. but I don’t look away.

The head maid clears her throat nervously. “I’ll issue punishme

“No” Camila cuts her off. “I’ll take her under my wing”

The words are a blade, clean and sharp. Roslin jerks up, lace pal

“What? Luna, she’s nothing but a rogue, She doesn’t deserve to ve you exclusively. She’ll ruin everything-

“Enough” Camila doesn’t even raise her voice. Her authority shs Roslin’s protest in half. She leans in closer to me, her lips

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Chapter 18

curving into something that isn’t quite a smile. “My name is Carla Pierce Call me Luna Camila

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Her hand drops from my chin She turns, silk skirts whispering against the stone floor as she strides to the door. She pauses. only once, glancing over her shoulder at both of us.

“You two will bring my dinner tonight. See to it she knows what do. Roslin”

The door shuts behind her, the echo slamming like a final decree

And just like that, the room feels colder.

The Omega quarters smell like boiled cabbage and sweat. The scent clings to the cracked walls, seeps into the straw mattresses, and settles in the air like it’s got nowhere better to be I push the wooden door open with my shoulder, ignoring the squeak of the rusted hinges. My palms are still burning from where I gripped them too tightly in the Head Maid’s office, biting back curses at Luna Camila’s smug little performance.

I’m barely two steps inside when Tully squeals. “Oh my goddess you’re back!” She springs from her bunk, her messy blonde braid bouncing behind her. “Did she did she really assign you? To her? The Luna’s maid?”

Around us, girls perk up like starved pups catching the smell of craps. Wide–eyed, they gather, whispers spreading faster than fire.

I grit my teeth, offering a stiff nod. “Unfortunately.”

Tully claps like I’ve just been crowned Alpha. “Are you kidding? That’s the dream! Imagine, serving the Luna, being inside her quarters, eating her food, drinking her wine-”

Marg snorts from her bed in the corner, arms crossed. Her dark hair falls in a curtain over her cheek as she glares at me like I’ve already betrayed them. “You’ll get to eat meat now.”

My brows knit. “What the hell do you mean by that?”

The room goes quiet. Even Tully’s excitement dims, her eyes darting to the floor.

I look between them, waiting. “Don’t tell me you guys don’t get meat.”

Tully fidgets with the hem of her worn dress, her voice barely above a whisper. “We…don’t. Omegas aren’t given any. Just gruel. Sometimes bread, if we’re lucky.”

A hard pit drops into my stomach. “You’re wolves,” I snap, louder than I mean to. “You need meat. Every day. How the fuck are you supposed to keep your wolves alive without it?”

Her lips tremble. “We can’t. Mine… she hasn’t spoken to me in ears. I can’t shift. Not anymore.”

Marg nods grimly, confirming it.

The Luna in me, the one I thought I buried when Wade cast me but, claws her way up my throat. My voice cuts sharper than steel. “That’s not just neglect. That’s abuse. Starving wolves until their spirits go dormant? That’s killing you.”

Marg meets my eyes, steady and cold. “The King doesn’t decide what happens to us. The Luna does. We’re under her authority.”

My nails dig crescents into my palms. “So he has no idea she’s dining the Omegas to husks while she sits her pampered ass on a throne of gold?”

Neither of them answers, and that silence tells me everything.

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Her name’s Son Maig comes faile

One Fasy unistabe

she’s cataloging every way he could run mer Yeah Bale my ad

Turns out. I’m right

The Luna’s quarters glean like another universe entirely Whiteule flume on padishelicam my retextum Vefver Curtains the color of blond. The air doren’t stink of sweat here reeks of perfume or string it burns the back of my that

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