Unwanted Mate Of The Lycan Kings (by jessica hall) novel Chapter 33

She drops her gaze when I feel him grip my wrist, tugging me out of the store. He leads me outside and down a few stores, stopping at another which has dark windows you can’t see in, and a beaded door. I glance up at the sign before Regan pulls me inside. A bell chimes as he pushes through the beads and opens the glass door. A woman wanders out from behind the counter. Her eyes go to the King before darting to mine, yet the moment my eyes meet hers, I know there is something more to this woman than meets the eye. Her energy radiates power.

“My King, what brings you here?” She asks, yet her eyes remain on me and her lips tug in the corners. Looking around, I see she has all sorts of clothes. And pants! Regan tells her I am here looking for clothes. The woman nods and purses her lips.

“Size?” I almost groan, having not paid attention in the last store, so I am shocked when Regan gives her my measurements. She hums and nods.

“Well, we have this section, which should be mostly your size. What are–”

“Something with long sleeves,” Regan says, as he runs his fingers over the racks. The woman nods and grabs some stuff, holding it up, but everything is… floral. What is it with people wanting to look like a flower around here?

I am about to shake my head when Regan starts plucking things off the racks that are just plain colors and much more, something I would wear or make myself.

“Try these on and leave whatever that crap Shelley has you wearing here so she can burn it!.” Regan orders, thrusting a dress into my arms.

The woman motions toward a curtain and I pull it back to find it is some sort of booth with a mirror taller than me. Slipping inside, I hang the clothes up, getting rid of the clothes Shelley gave me. Can’t I give them back to her? Why must I throw them out?

Shaking my head, I pull the black dress on. It flows to the floor, hugging my hips and the top of the dress is low cut; I pull a face, seeing my breasts on display. Pulling on the fabric, I try to tuck them in and pinch the top closed, but the make of the dress doesn’t allow it, but it does have long sleeves. Twisting, I smooth the dress out, finding it fits like a second skin, the stretchy material hugging my curves and I feel even more exposed.

Yet it offers more coverage than my boy legs did and is quite pretty when I see the straps at the back hanging down. I hold them up, wondering why I have tails. Walking out of the dressing room, I am about to ask the woman what to do with them when I find Regan now sitting out the front, a heap of clothes similar to what I’m wearing across his lap and his phone in his hand.

“Does it fit?” He demands, looking up while I am stupidly holding out the bits of fabric, probably looking like a bat! His eyes roam over me and his eyes flicker black when he suddenly stands. The woman comes rushing over to help me, but Regan steps in her path, grabbing the pieces of lacy fabric I’m holding out.

He begins crisscrossing them over my waist and hips before spinning me around and tying them at the back.

Great! How am I supposed to tie that by myself? Regan then spins me around to face him. He clicks his tongue, looking down at my feet. He huffs, wandering off and grabbing heels when I shake my head.

“I’m not wearing those!” I tell him and he presses his lips in a line before finding these strappy-looking flat shoes, and another pair of ballet-looking shoes. He nudges me to sit in the chair he was in before he lifts my skirt. I nearly slap his face when he grips my wrist before it connects with his face.

“If I wanted to fuck you or touch you sexually. I wouldn’t have added that rule to your side, Zirah!” He snaps, letting my wrist go.

“So you do know my name after all, that the second time you have said it!” I retort. He says nothing and laces the shoe up my leg before moving to the next. However, his hands linger far too long on the other leg when he leans closer, his face barely an inch from my mine, and he sniffs the air before leaning back to look at me.

“You really are pure, aren’t you?” he questions.

“Excuse me?”

“Untouched! You’re a virgin.” My face heats at his words. It’s not like I didn’t know what sex is. It just never appealed to me, especially hearing the echoes in the caves. Half the time, I wasn’t sure if they were in pain or in ecstasy, maybe both. Yet his words made my face heat like being a virgin is something to be ashamed of. Regan raises an eyebrow at me.

"You can really tell? I thought the King was just saying that to make the women fear lying.”

“Virgins smell different, their scent isn’t as potent.”

“How so?” I question. He seems to think for a second.

“I don’t know…just different. For example…” he grabs my hand, brushing his thumb over the back of my hand. He then holds my hand to my nose. I can smell his touch on my hand. It’s a masculine scent, like the smell of the woods after a storm. Refreshing.

He shakes his head. “Of course, you’re human you don;t have the same sense of smell. You’ll just have to take my word for it. You smell different from other women; I can smell their lovers on them, but it’s different to just me touching you.” He frowns before continuing. “I can smell they’ve lost their innocence.” He explains, and I nod. But I could smell his scent, could smell it even before he touched me.

Regan pulls my skirt down. “How do they feel?” He asks, and I wiggle my toes.

“Fine?” He nods once and grabs the other clothes, passing them to the woman. She wanders off when Regan turns, plucking the tag off the dress at my shoulder and he walks off.

“I got the other stuff you asked for?” She tells him, pointing to a stack of lacy undergarments, and pajamas. There is also a pile of pants and socks. I hold up the bra and pull a face.

“It’s a bra!” Regan deadpans and I shoot him a look.

“I know what it is. I’ve just never worn one before.” I pull a face, though this breast contraption would have come in handy for storing crystals in. Instead of Granny pulling my hair so tight she could shove them, or the bracelets she used to make that I always lost when hunting.

“It helps keep things where they should….not that you need it ye–” his eyes dart to my breasts, he clears his throat but doesn’t finish what he was going to say.

The woman chuckles. “I think he approves,” she laughs.

I glance down at them. I’ve never understood why men get so excited over lumps of fat on a woman’s chest, created to feed a child.

Regan growls at her, but she does not seem to be bothered in the slightest by him. Glancing at him, he looks down at me. His eyes flick to my cleavage before he smirks, not even caring that I know he is looking at them.

I shake my head, fighting the urge to cover them before remembering the coin’s purse Shelley gave me. I hand it to the woman, not sure what to do with it.