Lustful Tales: A Collection of Passionate Oneshot Romances

Scheur POV

I kept my eyes fixed on the stone floor as I carried the heavy laundry basket down the dimly lit hallway. In this world, humans knew their place — especially when serving werewolves. Two years in the palace had taught me one unbreakable rule: avoid them like poison. Speak only when spoken to. Never meet their eyes. Never linger.

A burst of excited voices echoed from the servants’ quarters. I hesitated, then stepped closer and set the basket down.

“What’s going on?” I whispered to Simone, the nearest maid who wasn’t part of the chaos.

She rolled her eyes and jerked her chin toward the crowd of girls clustered around a posted list. “They just announced the new suite assignments. Half of them are losing their minds because they get to serve His Majesty.”

My stomach dropped. I pushed through the group and scanned the names. There it was — mine. Assigned to the king’s private chambers.

“Lucky you,” a girl beside me sighed, draping her arm over my shoulder dreamily.

I shrugged her off. “Lucky? If the pay is good, then maybe. Otherwise it’s just more work.”

She scoffed. “You’re joking, right? Breathing the same air as the king… smelling his scent every day…” Her voice turned wistful. “And the chance to—”

“—fuck the king,” another girl finished with a giggle.

I grimaced. The crude words made heat creep up my neck.

“Oh, sorry,” the second girl added with mock sweetness. “We forgot we have a virgin saint among us.”

I stepped back, voice steady despite my racing pulse. “Have you all forgotten that relationships between werewolves and humans are forbidden?”

“Pipe down,” someone laughed. “Times have changed. We can sleep with them — just don’t get pregnant. That’s the only real trouble.”

Their giggles followed me as I grabbed my basket and hurried away.

Why is it always me?

---

Later that evening, the assignment proved worse than I feared. Not only was I to clean the king’s chambers — I was also expected to deliver anything he requested.

My hands trembled as I carried the small vial of pregnancy-preventing medicine toward his private wing.

As I approached the heavy oak door, distinct sounds drifted into the hallway.

Breathy moans. A woman’s voice breaking with pleasure.

“Oh, Your Majesty… you’re so big… fuck—”

I froze, cheeks burning. The raw, unrestrained sounds made something low in my belly tighten. I pressed my thighs together, trying to ignore the sudden slick heat between them. I didn’t dare knock. I stood there, heart hammering, listening as the moans grew louder, more desperate, until they peaked in a broken cry and then abruptly stopped.

I stared at the vial in my hands and forced myself to knock twice.

The door swung open.

Instead of the woman, I was met with a broad, sculpted male torso — golden skin, powerful muscles still glistening with a faint sheen of sweat. My gaze traveled upward slowly, dread and fascination warring inside me, until I met piercing green eyes framed by golden hair.

King Baldwin.

Shit.

I dropped into a deep, graceful bow, offering the vial with shaking hands. “Your Majesty.”

He didn’t take it.

“Raise your head.”

His voice was deep, commanding, and it sent an unwelcome shiver straight down my spine. I obeyed, but kept my eyes lowered. A large, warm finger hooked under my chin, tilting my face up until I had no choice but to meet his gaze.

He leaned in and inhaled deeply — actually sniffed the air around me.

His eyes darkened. A low, rumbling growl escaped his throat.

My breath caught. Heat flooded my core so suddenly that I felt fresh slickness coat my thighs. I hated the way my body reacted. I hated how close he was. I hated that I couldn’t look away.

I offered the vial again, voice barely a whisper. “Your Majesty…”

After what felt like an eternity, he released my chin and took the medicine. His fingers brushed mine — warm, deliberate.

I bowed once more and fled down the corridor as quickly as dignity allowed, my heart thundering in my ears.

Back in my small room, I collapsed onto the narrow bed, breathing hard. My hand slipped between my legs almost without thinking. My fingers came back glistening.

I felt danger. Fear. And something far more treacherous.

Please, I thought as sleep began to pull at me, let this be the last time I ever see him.