The Lycan King's Wrong Obsession novel Sorin Carter (by Circeleari) novel Chapter 7

Chapter 7

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The door bangs open hard enough that dust rains from the ceilig, hitting my arms where I’m curled up on the floor. My breath jerks in my chest.

Who the fuck-

Heavy boots slam against stone purposely sounding, unhurriedeps descending into hell. Whoever it is doesn’t smell like Wade, it doesn’t sound like any of the guards either. My head snaps up, eyes burning from tears I haven’t even wiped away

yet.

A figure in a hooded robe stands just beyond the iron bars. Whoever he is, he’s big. Broad. The kind of big that makes even Lycans think twice before picking a fight. My heart picks up an erratic beat. I think he’s from six foot five to six foot seven. I’m not entirely sure.

But I’m certain no one in the pack has this figure. He might just be a rogue.

I scramble for the knife Ariel threw in earlier, fingers shaking as wrap around the hilt. It’s sticky with her blood. Not mine. I don’t care. I clutch it like a lifeline and stagger to my feet, pressing my back to the wall.

“If you’ve got any fucking intentions,” I rasp, my voice shredded from screaming, “try me, and I swear to the Goddess, I’ll gut you before you take one step closer.”

The figure doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even stop walking until he’s standing right up at the bars, his massive shadow swallowing the faint torchlight. Silence stretches between us, thick and taut, and then a low, dangerous murmur cuts through it.

“What have they done to you, darling?”

Shit. I freeze.

That voice. I know that voice more than anyone.

Slowly, as if I’m scared I’ll conjure a nightmare by mistake, I watch as gloved hands reach up, and slowly push the hood back.

And my breath gets stolen right out of my lungs.

Alaric Hayes.

The Lycan King himself.

I grit my teeth as the moonlight that’s barely coming in on the small barred window up the cell hits his face. He shouldn’t be real, standing there in all that terrifying, sinful glory. His midnight–black hair looks messy as though he’s been running his fingers through it, stubble shadowing that sharp jaw, and those ees–amber, glowing faintly in the dark, looking at me as if I’m both the most precious thing he’s ever seen and the bloodiest craving he’s ever had.

I hate him. I do. I should. But my stupid heart doesn’t know what the hell to do when faced with this man, I always don’t know what to do. He’s always had this effect on me–the one who wrote to me for months and begged me to leave Wade. he’s promised me a life I never asked for.

And yet… he’s here, witnessing the Luna he had longed dote fo be stuck in this murky cell. He must be disappointed then.

My grip on the knife slips a little, but I keep it in my hand, low a my side. My voice comes out flat and broken but sharp. “What the hell do you want?”

He doesn’t blink at me getting now does he even glance at the blade. “What I’ve always wanted.” I look up at him with a frown. His tone is smooth and terrifyingly calm, the kind of calm that comes right before a storm tears everything apart.

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Chapter 7

What does he

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“You.” he interrupts my thoughts before I could think them My heart drops to my stomach. He can’t be serious if he still desire me who has now fallen out of grace. I’m no longer at the p

I look away and slide down the wall until I’m sitting. I get my knes drawn up, knife still clutched tight. “You’re wasting your time.” My throat burns, voice raw “If you’ve come here to gloat, r-

“I’m getting you out tonight.”

My head snaps up, eyes wide, heartbeat slamming against my ris like it’s trying to escape my chest. He says it like it’s nothing. Though it’s just another order he’s giving, like freeing e from this nightmare is as easy as breathing

He’s wrong.

I want to laugh. I want to scream. “You can’t,” I whisper, shaking hy head. “If I leave now, they’ll say it’s true–that I tried to kill him. I’ll die running.”

Alaric leans closer, his massive hands gripping the bars, metal groaning under the pressure of his strength. His voice drops even lower, silk over steel. “Sorin…” My name on his lips is a sin I shouldn’t want to hear. “You’ve been rotting in this cell while they play gods over your life. I’ll burn this entire fucking pack to the ground before I let them keep you another day.”

The way he says it–calm, like he’s promising the weather will change, but the gold in his eyes glows brighter, feral and dangerous. My stomach twists. My pulse hammers so loud I can barely think.

“And when I’m done,” he says, each word slow and lethal, “they’l know exactly who you belong to.”

My fingers tighten on the knife. My throat goes dry. Every instinct in me screams to stay away from him–but another part, the part that remembers every letter he sent, every word Wade didn’t say, feels something else entirely.

Fear.

Desperation.

And something dangerously close to surrender.

I can’t let him see it.

No, I will not give the fuck up. They can’t be happy doing this to me.

I should’ve told him to fuck off. I should’ve spit in his face, told im I’d rather rot in here than be tangled up in whatever madness he’s bringing. But I didn’t. I just sat there, frozen, my heart a fist punching the inside of my ribs. Because no one’s ever spoken like that about me–not even Wade. Not even when thought he loved me.

And it terrifies me more than the dungeon, more than Ariel, more than what’s coming tomorrow.

He’s still there, just standing, hood drawn back now. Golden eye burning holes straight through my walls. That’s the thing about Alaric Hayes–he doesn’t just look at you. He peels you open with his stare and leaves nothing untouched.

I don’t know what breaks in me, but suddenly I’m on my feet, stopping toward the bars before my brain catches up.

“Wait,” I whisper, then louder, “Wait, damn it.”

He tilts his head like a wolf who’s just scented blood. My pulse stutters. The knife is still in my hand, but I don’t raise it this time. Instead, I shove my arm between the bars before I can think better of it.

Silver bites instantly, searing my skin like acid. “Ah!” I hiss but quickly ignore it. The smell of burnt flesh crawls into my nose. My breath hitches but I keep going until I’ve got a fistful of his collar and yank him down to my level.

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Chapter 7

“You’re not doing a damn thing.” I marl, every word punctured going on a killing spree for me. I don’t need your savior comples walk out of this place at all.”

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th pain I refuse to show him. “You hear me? You’re not Your Highness. I’m clearing my name my way, or I don’t

He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t flinch The bastard doesn’t even look my wrist sizzling against the metal. Instead, his gaze darkens like I just handed him a gift he’s been waiting years to the wrap.

Slowly deliberately, he unpeels my fingers from his collar and takes my burned wrist in his hand. My skin is shaking trembling from pain, but he treats it as though it’s the most precious thing in the world. Then–fuck me–he bends his head and presses his lips to the raw, blistering burn.

1 freeze, staring down at him, wide–eyed. Is he crazy?

“What the hell are you doing?” I hiss, trying to yank my arm back, but his grip is iron.

His eyes flick up, glowing molten gold, wild yet terrifyingly calm “Tasting you.” His mouth brushes over my torn skin again, a slow kiss that sends a pulse straight through my spine.

“Every mark they put on you… every wound…” He drags his tongue across the burn like a lunatic, “… is mine to claim

now.”

“You’re insane,” I rasp out, torn between shoving him away and forgetting how to breathe.

That’s when he grins–Goddess, it’s wrong how beautiful that smile looks on him. Sharp, dangerous, and all mine whether I like it or not.

“Crazier than you think, little wolf.”

Before I can spit out a retort, he grabs the bar my arm is stuck against. And then he just–bends it with bare. Fucking. Hands.

My eyes widen as he does it with no hesitation. The silver sears his skin, smoke rising where it touches, but he doesn’t let go. He doesn’t even grunt. His strength is obscene, the metal groaning until it snaps open enough for my arm to slip out.

I stumble back, clutching my wrist. “Are you fucking serious right now?!” My voice cracks between outrage and disbelief.

Alaric steps closer, bringing his towering frame right up to the bars until there’s barely a breath between us. Then he reaches through, grabs my hand–burnt, bloody, trembling–and presses it flat to his cheek.

“Serious?” he murmurs, his voice low, thick with obsession. “For you? There’s nothing I wouldn’t burn for, my Luna.”

And before I can stop him, before my sanity can scream at me to pull away, his tongue slides against my palm, hot and rough, leaving a trail that makes my breath hitch.

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