The Lycan King's Wrong Obsession novel Sorin Carter (by Circeleari) novel Chapter 95

Chapter 95

He was awake. This whole time. Watching me watch him, feeling me touch him, knowing exactly what I was doing.

But instead of calling me out, instead of asking questions I can’t answer, he just… holds my hand to his face Turns his head slightly to press a kiss to my palm.

The gesture is so tender it makes my throat tight.

“How long have you been awake?” I ask, going for casual and probably failing spectacularly.

“Long enough.” His lips curve into a small smile. “You make this face when you think. Did you know that? Your eyebrows do this little furrow thing.”

“Shut up,” I say, but I’m smiling too. Can’t help it. It’s instinct, this easy banter, this comfortable intimacy.

Play the part, I remind myself. Keep him from suspecting.

“Let’s go

for a swim,” I say suddenly, sitting up. The sheet pools around my waist and Alaric’s eyes track the movement with interest. “Come on. We’re at a fancy resort, might as well use the pool, right?”

He studies me for a moment, and I can practically see him weighing something in his head. Then he grins— that devastating, boyish grin that makes him look younger, lighter–and rolls out of bed.

“Race you there,” he says, and takes off toward the bathroom.

“That’s cheating!” I yell, scrambling after him. “You got a head start, you asshole!”

His laugh echoes back and just like that, we’re playing. Pretending. Being the couple we were before everything went to shit.

The pool is fucking gorgeous. Of course it is. Everything about this place is gorgeous in that casual, obscene way that money can buy, Crystal–clear water, pristine white loungers, palm trees swaying in the breeze like we’re in a goddamn Corona commercial.

I hit the water running, diving in without testing the temperature first because fuck it, we’re doing spontaneity now. The water’s perfect–cool enough to be refreshing, warm enough that I don’t immediately regret my life choices–and I surface with a gasp, slicking my hair back.

Alaric follows seconds later, and the splash he makes is definitely intentional, designed to drench me further. I shriek and splash back, and then we’re both laughing like idiots, chasing each other around the pool hike kids who don’t have a care in the world.

It’s so easy to fall into this. To forget everything except the sun on my face and the water around me and the way Alaric looks at me like I’m the only person in the world.

This is what you’re giving up, a small voice whispers. This happiness. This lightness. Him.

I shove the thought away and dive under, swimming away from him and the complicated feelings he

represents.

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Chapter 95

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We play for what feels like hours but is probably more like thirty minutes. By the time we’re both exhausted, my face hurts from smiling and my lungs ache from laughing and for just a little while, I almost forget that this is all temporary.

Almost.

We end up at the poolside bar–because of course this place has a poolside bar–ordering cocktails that come in glasses the size of my head.

I claim one of the loungers under a massive umbrella. The sun is already intense, the kind that would turn me lobster–red in about fifteen minutes without protection.

Alaric heads back into the water, doing laps now with the kind of powerful, efficient strokes that show off every muscle in his back and arms.

Show–off. I sip my drink and watch anyway because I’m not dead and also I have eyes.

I’m about halfway through my cocktail, pleasantly buzzed and almost relaxed, when a shadow falls over me.

I look up, expecting Alaric.

It’s not Alaric.

The guy standing over me is… okay, he’s objectively attractive. Tall, tanned, with that effortless European charm that probably works on most people. He’s smiling down at me like he’s God’s gift to women everywhere, and I can literally see the pickup line forming in his head.

“All alone?” he asks in accented English. French, maybe? Or Italian?

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Just resting,” I say neutrally, hoping he’ll take the hint.

He doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. “A beautiful woman like you shouldn’t be alone. Perhaps I could keep you company?”

Before I can tell him exactly where he can shove his company, I hear it–the sound of someone cutting through water at high speed.

Alaric.

He pulls himself out of the pool in one smooth motion, water sluicing off his body, and I swear to god the temperature drops about ten degrees from the look on his face alone. He’s not smiling. Not even close. His eyes are locked on the guy like he’s prey, and there’s something predatory in the way he’s moving, all coiled violence barely held in check.

“Hey,” the guy says, apparently oblivious to the fact that he’s about three seconds from getting his face rearranged. “We were just-”

Alaric takes a step forward and I see it–see the moment he’s about to cause a scene, about to do something that will definitely get us kicked out of this resort and possibly arrested.

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I lower my sunglasses and catch his eye. Then I make a soft tch tch sound with my tongue–sharp, distinct.

Stop.

Alaric freezes. His eyes snap to mine and I can see the war happening in his head–the urge to defend, protect, destroy warring with whatever signal I just sent.

For a second, I think he’s going to ignore me and punch this guy anyway.

Then he exhales, tension bleeding out of his shoulders, and walks toward me instead.

The guy starts to say something else but Alaric’s already moved past him, leaning down to capture my mouth in a kiss that’s possessive and claiming and leaves absolutely zero doubt about who I belong to.

When he pulls back, he keeps eye contact with me, ignoring the other guy completely.

“Need your towel?” I ask sweetly.

“Yeah,” he says, and there’s still that edge in his voice, that barely–controlled violence, but it’s leashed now. For

1. me.

I hand him the towel and he dries off with economical movements, then claims the lounger next to mine, effectively boxing me in between him and the umbrella pole.

The other guy, finally getting the hint, mutters something and walks away.

“You’re territorial,” I observe, sipping my drink.

“You’re mine,” he replies, like that explains everything.

And maybe it does.

We sit in comfortable silence for a while, the sun beating down, the sounds of the pool and other guests creating a pleasant background hum. I’m almost relaxed again when Alaric speaks.

“When I introduce you to the pack,” he says slowly, not looking at me, “there’s going to be a part you won’t like,”

I turn my head to look at him. He’s staring out at the pool, jaw tight, and I can tell whatever he’s about to say, it’s not good.

“What part?” I ask.

“There’s a faction,” he continues, still not meeting my eyes. “Traditional Old guard. They’re not going to be welcoming. Not because of you specifically, but because you’re-“He pauses. “You’re not from a prominent bloodline. You’re an outsider. And they’re going to make that known.”

Oh.

So not only do I get to be queen, I get to deal with supernatural mean girls. Fantastic.

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“Can you take it?” he asks, finally turning to look at me. His eyes are serious, searching. “Because once we do this, once I make the announcement, there’s no going back. You’ll be under scrutiny. Judged. Probably insulted. And I can protect you from a lot, but I can’t protect you from politics.”

I should say no. Should tell him this is a terrible idea, that I’m not cut out for this, that maybe we should pump the brakes on the whole queen situation.

But I don’t.

Because sitting here, looking at him, feeling the sun on my face and his presence beside me, I realize something: I can take it. Whatever they throw at me, whoever tries to tear me down–I can fucking take it.

Maybe I won’t be staying. Maybe this is all temporary, this illusion of happiness and normalcy.

But right now, in this moment, I’m not running.

I smile. Slow and sharp and full of confidence I only half feel.

“Yeah,” I say. “I can take it.”

His expression shifts–pride, possession, something darker and more intense. He reaches over, takes my hand, threads our fingers together.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs.

And for one perfect, suspended moment, everything feels possible. Like maybe we can make this work. Like maybe love is stronger than blood and betrayal and all the shit that’s trying to tear us apart.

Then Alaric’s phone buzzes.

He pulls it out, glances at the screen, and his entire body goes rigid.

“What?” I ask, sitting up. “What is it?”

He doesn’t answer. Just stares at the phone, face going progressively paler, and when he finally looks at me, there’s something in his eyes I’ve never seen before.

Fear.

“Alaric?” My voice comes out sharper than intended. “What the fuck is going on?”

He opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again.

“We need to go back,” he says quietly. “Right now.”

“Why? What happened?”

He stands, already moving, already pulling me up with him. His hand is tight around mine, almost painful, and there’s a tension in every line of his body that screams danger.

“Alaric,” I demand. “Tell me what-

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He stops. Turns to face me. And when he speaks, his voice is hollow

“There’s been an attack,”

曲

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