II: The Predator's Curse

II: The Predator’s Curse.

~ROENNA~

“Please don't kill me." The words fell from my mouth before I realized.

Rule 2 broken: Never speak until he asks you to.

He was quiet… only his calm, deep breathing constantly breaking the silence. His eyes lingered on me for seconds longer than they should have.

"Look at me” He ordered, pulling back to stand on his feet. He spoke too fluently and healthily for someone who obviously had that much blood dribbling down his face.

I raised my head, my wolf almost blacking out at the sight of blood.

“You're bleeding. I can't." I whispered, squeezing my eyelids against each other.

He was quiet again, then he came even closer that my wobbly breath mixed with his.

Even so, I didn't raise my head. My fingers curled up my thighs.

The pungent smell of blood hit stronger, so I held my breath.

“You don't smell like the rest and that's…." He paused, the edge of his voice coated with restraint.

At one grip, he ripped the rope off my waist and it spiralled away through the exit.

He noticed I was paying more attention to his bleeding temple, so he quickly turned his face away from me.

“Leave." He flatly.

I couldn't. “Your Majesty," I stood on my feet, bowing behind him. “Please, allow me to treat your wound."

I knew I was putting my life on the line, but I couldn't just walk away when he looked like that.

Before five more seconds ticked away, he let out a low groan.

“I’ll get the housekeeper" I said, running towards the door, but before I could reach it, he wolf-sped and blocked it.

His eyes were bloodshot, the blood didn't stop trickling down his face. But he stood miserably dangerous with the same heinous glint in his eyes.

My heart lurched and my feet halted. "Then allow me treat it myself.” I said, voice softened by a mix of fear and compassion, "I have medical knowledge, Your Majesty.”

An injury that much on his temple was far more life-threatening than having a bullet to a person's throat.

"Where are you from?” he asked, handing over the stitch needle from his pocket.

The room was silent for minutes while he directed me to gather the equipment to stitch and dress his injury.

“Who are you?" He asked when I picked up the needle.

Didn't he recognize me?

“I am your breeder, Your Majesty." I bowed, burying the sadness in my voice.

Rule 3: Never mention my actual details unless he asked twice.

He let out a suppressed groan when I cleaned his wound with pure liquor from his table.

“Then why didn't you follow the rules?" He asked, and for a second I wondered if he was actually feeling pain as much as he should have.

I made the first stitch and he didn't move. Was he that prone to pain?

"I… I have followed all rules up till this moment, Your Majesty.” I answered with a lie that could lift my head from my neck within seconds.

More silence stretched before another growl crawled out of his throat. "It's usually black… and sometimes, roses"

I knew where he was headed, so I intentionally tightened the next stitch. Only after I was done did he react.

“Don’t be deliberate about it.” He gritted. "Answer me."

“I am not a lover of black, and my wolf is allergic to some fragrances,” I answered truthfully.

I was done stitching his wound, so I stood, waiting for him to order me to strip or do the things that were expected of a breeder, but the order never came.

"Where did you learn to stitch?” He questioned, breaking the quiet that stretched in the room.

"Back at my pack," I answered, lowering my head. I'd applied to study medicine at universities immediately after high school, but my Mother had rejected it—claiming she could only fund one of us.

“Why didn't you become a doctor then?" He asked.

"I'm afraid I cannot answer that question, Your Majesty—”

"Why?” He didn't care.

“Because I am to be your breeder, Your Majesty,” I said, on the edge of tears.

“No, you were not…” He refuted. I raised my glassy eyes to his, breaking whatever rule the housekeeper might have mentioned.

He stood from the chair, his hands finding the strap of my inner lingerie, then trailing all the way to my cleavage.

He looked at me with a vile amount of possessiveness, his eyes claiming and paralyzing every part of me.

“But now you are." He said icily, destroying the last straw of hope inside of me.

His hand grazed my skin like fire with a slow precision, burning and skewering through every wall built around my wolf.

His next words pitched low, then he leaned in…"You see that?” His voice slipped to an even more ferocious mode. “Prey…”

My wolf betrayed me beneath his touch, and his cruel smirk against my skin told me he noticed.

The metallic smell of blood hit my nostrils again and I realized the stitch on his head was tearing apart slowly again, but he wasn't even reacting.

"Sit.” It slipped out of me defiantly, before my manners invaded again. “You have to sit, your stitch is tearing open again"

His eyes sharpened with nonchalance like every word I'd said didn't matter.

“How long have you endured this?" I questioned.

"Endured what?”

"You can't even feel it anymore. Please, sit.” My wolf reacted too quickly in urgency.

I gently guided him to sit while I hurried to grab the equipments I'd packed after the first stitch session.

Aside from being a King, he was a person to me. But how much could he have gone through to be that used to pain?

A temple injury reopening wasn't normal… it was either self-inflicted, or had occurred in the same spot more than once.

I cut out the first stitch, then began stitching the second time.

The room was silent, but my throat itched to spit out the questions clawing at it. “May I ask a question, your Majesty?"

"Hmm”

What other way could have been best to ask that question?

"Did you do this to yourself?” I paused for a moment, my blood stirring with unease crossing every part of me.

"Do what?" His voice pitched even lower.

“This." True, he was a Lycan King, the most feared and ruthless across packs and kingdoms, and he probably didn't feel pain like weaker wolves… but how much pain could he have endured to go through this?

"You think I did this to myself?” He sniggered, raising his eyes to mine as soon as I cut out the stitch.

His eyes shadowed, his lips widening into a smirk. "I love myself too much to do that, bunny.” He didn't bat an eye.

I folded my lips. How could he even notice my bunny teeth in a situation this serious?

"Then, how did you get this injury?” This was not supposed to be funny in any way, looking at his bloodstains on my hands.

He stood, strolling toward me. I paced backwards, each foot dragging behind another but he didn't stop.

Maybe it was fear making my heart race that way.

He didn't stop until he cornered me, having my back against the wall like prey he was ready to tear apart.

"And how many rules have you crossed now, darling?"

His hands found me again, and I gasped the moment they landed on my skin.

My wolf screamed beneath my skin with need.

He moved even closer, our breaths mixing. If I moved an inch forward, our lips would have touched.

He touched my chest… my neck… his lips grazed my neck, and his hot breath fanned against my skin as he had my hands pinned above my head while his body leaned against mine.

Fear had disappeared the moment he touched me, and the only thing that existed was the heat steaming between my thighs.

My stupid wolf didn't seem to know any better than to fall apart beneath him.

My thighs ached to be touched and he was ridiculously good at how much he knew to touch me.

When his hands dragged below my abdomen, for a fleeting second, I saw softness in his eyes before he buried his face into the crook of my neck, pulling on my flesh gently.

I locked my arms around his neck, his warm hands slowly travelling up my thighs.

God. My panties had creamed when he touched my pussy.

His fingers stroked it, but he paused like he was trying to be careful.

His gaze hardened, then he took steps backwards like I'd suddenly grown horns. Every moment had stolen air from my lungs.

“Get out." His voice dropped to its bass. Even as I heard it, it still felt unreal so my body didn't react to his order. "You have ten seconds before I lose it!”

My wolf froze.

“Nine!"

“Eight!"