The Lycan King's Wrong Obsession novel Sorin Carter (by Circeleari) novel Chapter 87

Chapter 87

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The moon was doing its best to look dramatic tonight, spilling silver light over the villa gates as though it was auditioning for a horror movie. Meanwhile, these dumbass boys were still loitering outside like they owned the fucking place, blocking the driveway and throwing around their pathetic little insults. The ringleader had just finished sneering about how a woman like me couldn’t possibly afford a house this extravagant. As if I’d earned it on my back or some shit. Cute.

Alaric went still beside me. Goddess, he’s fucking gorgeous when he’s murderous. Tall, broad, all sharp edges and coiled violence wrapped in muscle that could snap a man in half without breaking a sweat. I felt my pulse kick up just looking at him.

He took one lethal step forward.

I grabbed his hand before he could close the distance. My fingers slid between his, squeezing tight. “No” I whispered, leaning in so my lips grazed his ear. “You’re going to fucking kill them.”

His voice came out low and rough, the kind of sound that usually ends up between my thighs. T’m just going

to teach them a lesson.”

I sighed, long and dramatic, because we both knew that was complete bullshit.

One of the morons snorted. “Yo, we can hear you. All that whispering about killing us? Real subtle.”

I turned my head slowly and gifted them my sweetest, most sarcastic smile–the one that says I’m already picturing your funeral. “Then do yourselves a favor and fuck off.”

The leader grinned like he’d won something. “No thanks, princess.”

And that’s when the rest of them crawled out of the shadows like cockroaches. Ten. Twelve. Fifteen. Maybe more. Not just bored kids with cameras. A full–on gang, eyes hard, hands twitching toward pockets. They hadn’t been snapping pics for clout. They’d been casing the villa, memorizing entrances, exits, blind spots. Planning to come back later and take what wasn’t theirs.

Well, fuck. Maybe they really did deserve to die tonight.

I exhaled slowly, tasting the night air–jasmine, salt, and impending bloodshed. Then I took a few leisurely steps backward until I found the perfect cushioned chair beneath the pergola. I sank into it like a queen claiming her throne, crossed my legs, and gave Alaric a lazy thumbs–up.

“Make it quick, baby,” I called, voice dripping with amusement.

That was all the permission he needed.

They charged like a pack of rabid dogs, shouting, fists pumping, thinking numbers would save them. Out here, on acres of private land, no one would hear the screams. Nearest neighbor was miles away—they’d probably assume we were just throwing another depraved party.

Alaric moved like something carved from nightmare and sin.

The first idiot swung wide. Alaric caught his arm mid–punch twisted, and the crack of bone echoed like a

Chapter 87

gunshot. The guy dropped screaming Another came from the blind goe–Alare ogos deson are the the bastard’s temple, and the body hit gravel without another wound. He was poetry in motion for shattering a kneecap, palm strike crushing a nose, fingers hooking a collar to dama dull spine the son gave Every movement precise, brutal, beautiful.

One of the bigger ones–clearly the muscle–yanked a fucking, axe from under his picker the This was a goddamn Viking raid. He swung overhead, grunting with effort. Alaric rogged inside the me she’s wa choreographed, ripped the axe free, and buried it in the guy’s chest with one dem honesexed were Bord sprayed in a hot arc, splattering the driveway, the gate, Alaric’s shirt. The body crumpled, we will lodged in

bone.

The rest froze. They’d come expecting a fistfight. Not a slaughter.

I was lounging back, one elbow on the armrest, chin in hand, thoroughly entertained, when i fer the hay little pinch at my ribs.

“Don’t move, bitch,” a shaky voice hissed behind me.

I turned my head just enough to see him: serawny little fuck, maybe nineteen, meing bullies presing a thin dagger to my side like he actually believed it would keep him alive.

I stood up slowly, letting the blade stay pressed against me, and started walking toward Alaric. The hit shuffled after me, confused as hell, grip tightening like that would help.

Alaric’s gaze snapped to me. Pure, undiluted rage flared–until I gave him a tiny take of my heart I got im baby.

And because I was in a mood, I decided to give everyone a showE

A broken, theatrical sob ripped out of me. I clutched my chest, eyes wide and watery. “Oh God–baby! Feb me!” My voice cracked perfectly. “He’s got a knife! I’m going to die!

The kid behind me actually stuttered. “What the fuck . . .

I wailed louder, throwing my head back like a goddamn Oscar contender. “Alaric Save your poor helples girl!”

Even Alaric’s lips twitched, dark amusement cutting through the fury.

The last straggler broke free from him, sprinting for the gate. Perfect cue.

I sucked in a dramatic breath. “Alaric, ple-”

The blade slid between my ribs, hot and shocking.

Pain bloomed sharp and bright. The little shit leaned in, breath sour with fear and cheap beer. “Thought I wouldn’t actually do it, huh?”

My performance–ruined. My fun–interrupted. I was pissed.

I twisted fast, caught his wrist, snapped it like a twig. The dagger clattered. Before he could scream, my hand

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was around his throat. One quick, satisfying twist, and he folded like wet paper.

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The survivors stared, one guy bleeding out from an axe wound, another dead by my bare hands. Then they ran, screaming into the night like the cowards they were.

I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt, reached down, and yanked the dagger out of my side. Blood soaked through my bikini and Alaric’s button up, warm and sticky, but already the wound was closing–flesh knitting, pain fading to a dull throb.

Still annoying as fuck.

I let myself wobble–just a little, for effect–and collapsed forward.

Alaric was there in an instant, catching me, sweeping me up bridal–style like I weighed nothing. His arms were steel bands around me, heart pounding against my cheek, scent of blood and sweat and him flooding my senses.

The villa’s heavy door slammed shut behind us, sealing out the night and the cooling corpses we’d left scattered like forgotten trash on the driveway.

Alaric’s arms were still wrapped around me, holding me bridal–style like I was some fragile fucking doll, but we both knew better. The stab wound in my side had already healed, leaving nothing but a faint pink scar that would vanish in minutes. But damn, the residual ache was a bitch, a reminder that even immortals like us–or whatever the hell we were–could still feel pain before the regeneration kicked in.

The night was just getting started.

I nestled my face against his neck, inhaling that intoxicating mix of blood, sweat, and his raw, masculine scent. It made my thighs clench involuntarily. But as he carried me deeper into the villa’s opulent foyer, with its marble floors and crystal chandeliers casting fractured light everywhere, my mind wandered to darker places.

Those goddamn nightmares had been plaguing me for weeks–flashes of myself younger, faces I didn’t recognize but felt like I should. Memories? Visions? I couldn’t make sense of them. I know I still haven’t answered Alaric about it and it’s time he knows the truth.

They’d jolt me awake in a cold sweat, heart pounding, and leave me staring at the ceiling wondering what the fuck was wrong with me. This vacation was supposed to be an escape, a chance to forget whatever bullshit past was clawing at my brain. Maybe I needed to lean into it harder. Enjoy the now. Fuck the shadows.

Alaric set me down gently on the edge of the massive velvet sofa in the living room, his red eyes—those piercing, crimson depths that always made my core throb–scanning me for any lingering damage.

Goddess, he was still hot as sin. Tall, broad–shouldered, with muscles carved like a goddamn statue, ink swirling over his chest and arms in patterns that screamed danger. His dark hair was tousled from the fight, a smear of blood on his check making him look even more feral, more irresistible.

I tilted my head, smirking up at him. “Why don’t we attend that party down the street? You know, the one with the thumping bass and all those clueless humans grinding on each other?”

I heard it from a local earlier.

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He shrugged, one corner of his mouth quirking in that lazy, arrogant way that drove me wild. “Whatever you want, darling.”

Heat pooled low in my belly at his words, but I played it cool. Or tried to, I stood, closing the distance between us, and wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing my body flush against his. My fingers trailed up to his face, wiping away the streak of blood on his cheek with my thumb. It smeared a little, warm and sticky, and I licked it off without thinking–metallic tang exploding on my tongue. His eyes darkened to a deeper red, desire flashing like lightning.

“Wanna take a shower together?” I murmured, my voice husky, hand sliding down to grip his ass possessively. “Get all this filth off us.”

Alaric’s groan was low and primal, vibrating through his chest into mine. “Fuck yes,” he growled, and then his mouth crashed down on mine–aggressive, demanding, no room for tenderness. His tongue invaded, tasting like violence, and I kissed him back just as hard, biting his lower lip until I drew a bead of his own blood.

“Hm, yeah?”

He picked me up, my legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. We were moving before I could blink, his long strides carrying us to the master bathroom. The villa’s halls blurred past–plush rugs, antique vases that probably cost more than most people’s houses–but all I cared about was the heat building between us, the way his cock hardened against my core with every step.

He kicked the bathroom door open, flicked on the shower with one hand without breaking the kiss. Steam billowed out almost immediately, the massive rainfall head pouring hot water like a tropical storm. Alaric slammed me against the tiled wall, the cool surface a shock against my back as his mouth devoured mine like a rabid fucking dog.

Tongues clashing, teeth nipping, breaths coming in ragged gasps. I clawed at his shirt, ripping it open- buttons flying everywhere–and he yanked mine off in return, the fabric tearing with a satisfying rip. My bra followed, his hands palming my breasts roughly, thumbs circling my nipples until they peaked hard and aching.

“Fuck, darling,” he rasped against my throat, sucking a mark that healed almost instantly but left me moaning anyway. “You taste like sin.”

I laughed breathlessly, grinding against him. “And you look like the devil himself fighting over those guys,” I smirk.

He growled, lifting me higher against the wall, my legs over his shoulders now as the shower steam wrapped around us like a lover. Water cascaded down his back, soaking his pants, but he didn’t give a shit.

His mouth trailed down my body–kissing, biting–until he reached my core. He shoved my panties aside with one hand, and then he was on me, tongue diving in like a thirsty man in the desert into my folds.

“Oh shit–Alaric!” I cried out, fingers tangling in his wet hair as he ate my pussy with aggressive hunger. No teasing, no mercy- it’s just his tongue lapping at my clit, fingers spreading me open, sucking and nipping until stars exploded behind my eyes. He groaned into me, the vibrations sending shocks through my body, and I bucked against his face, riding his mouth like it was my lifeline.

I’m moving on my own onto his head.

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“You’re so fucking sweet,” he mumbled against my folds, voice muffled but dripping with lust Come for me. darling. Drench my face.”

I shattered–hard and fast–my orgasm ripping through me like a storm, thighs clamping around his heard as I screamed his name. Waves of pleasure crashed over me, leaving me trembling, but he didn’t stop until I was limp and gasping.

My turn.

I slid down his body, turning us so his back hit the wall. Water pounded over us now, slicking our skin as I dropped to my knees. His pants were gone in a blur–ripped off by my impatient hands–and his cock spring free, thick and veined, throbbing with need. Fuck, he was massive, perfect, and all mine.

I wrapped my lips around him without preamble, taking him deep. His groan was pure sex–deep, gumcal. echoing off the tiles. “Fuck, Sorin… your mouth… so hot, so tight.”

I sucked harder, hollowing my cheeks, tongue swirling around the head as I bobbed up and down. His hands fisted in my hair, guiding but not forcing, hips thrusting shallowly. “That’s it, darling, Take it all You’re such a good girl for me.”

The praise sent fresh heat between my legs, and I hummed around him, making him buck. “Shit–art… fuck, I can’t take much more.”

He hauled me up then, crushing his mouth to mine in a messy, desperate kiss. Tasting myself on his lips only made it hotter. His fingers dipped between my thighs, sliding into my wetness, curling just right to hit that spot. “So ready for me,” he murmured, pumping in and out. “Gonna make you come again before I fuck you senseless.”

“Alaric—oh god,” I whimpered, riding his hand as he added a third finger, stretching me, loosening me up. Pleasure built like a freight train, bullet–fast, and I came undone again, clenching around his digits with a cry. “Wait, I just came–ah!”

He cut me off by thrusting into me in one brutal stroke, filling me completely. The stretch burned so good. his cock hitting depths that made my vision blur. We were under the shower fully now, water streaming over our joined bodies as he pinned me to the wall again, legs wrapped around him.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he growled, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in. “Take it, Sorin. Take every inch.”

I moaned, nails raking down his back, drawing blood that healed instantly. “Harder, Alaric. Fuck me like you mean it.”

He did–pounding into me with raw, primal force, each thrust shaking the walls. Our bodies slapped together wetly, the sound obscene and perfect. “You feel so good wrapped around my cock,” he rasped, red eyes locked on mine, burning with possession. “Mine. All fucking mine.”

“Yes–yours,” I gasped, clenching around him, meeting every brutal drive. “Don’t stop. Oh fuck, right there.”

We chased round two like animals, his hand slipping between us to rub my clit in tight circles. Pleasure coiled tighter, hotter, until I shattered again, screaming as my orgasm milked him. He followed with a roar, spilling deep inside me, hips jerking erratically.

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But we weren’t done. He spun me around, bending me over the shower bench, entering me from behind in one smooth glide. “Round two, darling,” he growled, gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. “Gonna fuck you until you can’t walk.”

“Yes–fuck yes,” I begged, pushing back against him. His pace was relentless, cock dragging over every sensitive spot, balls slapping my clit with each thrust. “You feel so big… so deep. God, Alaric, you’re ruining

me.”

“Good,” he snarled, leaning over to bite my shoulder. “Ruin you for anyone else like a slut. Come again–now

Fuck, he’s intense. He’s never called me that before.

I did, vision whiting out as ecstasy tore through me. He pounded harder, chasing his own release, groaning my name like a prayer.

Then–knock, knock, knock.

The sound cut through the haze coming from the villa’s front door. We froze mid–thrust, breaths ragged, water still pounding down.

Alaric’s cock twitched inside me, and he let out a dark chuckle. “Ignore it,” he murmured, starting to move again slowly, teasingly.

But the knock came again—louder. Persistent.

“Fuck,” I whispered, half–laughing, half–annoyed, as reality intruded on our primal bliss.