Lycans of Lunar Isle

The champagne burned sweeter than it should’ve.

I tipped the glass back anyway, letting it wash over the taste of the lie on my lips and the ache in my chest. I wasn’t supposed to be here. Not in this club. Not in this dress. And definitely not in his world.

But the thing about wanting to forget, you’ll do anything to lose yourself.

 Tonight , I needed to forget.

The club pulsed around me, dark and dripping with desire. Bodies pressed, moaned, moved. I needed air. Space. Anything but this suffocating cage of glitter and heat.

I wandered down a hallway that was quieter, less crowded. Red velvet walls. Gilded doors. A hallway that whispered secrets with every step I took. My heels echoed until I found a door that was half-open, light spilling out like temptation.

I didn’t knock. I just stepped inside.

He was there.

Alone.

Leaning back in a black leather armchair like he owned the air around him. A glass of something dark in his hand. His shirt half-open, revealing a chest inked in black lines and sharp sin. His tie undone, hair tousled, jaw shadowed with stubble.

I stopped breathing. He was a fine man, my eyes are blurry but I know he is a fine man.

My heart stuttered. I shouldn’t be here. I’m engaged, somebody wife to be. 

He looked up at me through half-lidded eyes, slow and lazy like a lion toying with its prey. His gaze dragged across my body in a way that made my thighs clench.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

His voice was smoke and gravel. Laced with something dangerous.

“I…I got lost,” I whispered. My voice was breathless, thin. “Thought this was the bathroom.”

His lips quirked. Not a smile. Just amusement. Dark and unreadable.

“You always walk into strange men’s rooms wearing dresses like that?”

I glanced down.

The dress clung to me like it was painted on. Barely-there silk. No bra. No shame.

Blame the champagne.

Blame the fucking engagement I had no say about. 

Blame him for looking at me like I was something he’d already imagined on his tongue.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt.” I took a step back, but the door clicked shut behind me.

“You didn’t.” He took a long sip from his glass. “Unless you’re planning on running. In that case…”

His eyes darkened.

“…don’t.”

I didn’t move.

Something electric snapped between us. Sharp. Wild. Forbidden.

“You’re drunk,” I said, my voice shaking.

“So are you.”

And it was true. I could feel it in my blood. Warm. Heavy. Reckless.

He set his glass down with a thud and stood.

My breath caught.

He was taller than I remembered.

Wider. Meaner.

“Come here,” he said.

I didn’t think. I just obeyed.

Step by step until there was no air between us. Just heat. Just breath. Just danger.

His hand lifted to my jaw. Fingers rough. Thumb brushing my lower lip.

“You looked delicious,” he murmured. “You know that, right?”

“Yes,” I whispered. I should have left at that moment. But I told myself there is nothing wrong with one last night of fling. A good sex where you can be bad as you want.

His thumb slid into my mouth.

I sucked on it.

Something snapped in his eyes.

He grabbed the back of my neck and kissed me.

Not soft.

Not sweet.

Claiming.

His tongue slid into my mouth like he already owned it. His other hand gripped my waist, pulled me against the hard length of him, made me feel everything.

I moaned.

He groaned.

I was pressed against the wall in seconds, his thigh between mine, rubbing against my heat through the soaked fabric of my panties.

His mouth tore from mine. “Say you want this.”

“I do.”

“I am going to fuck you here without mercy.”

“I know.” My voice broke. “I don’t care.”

His hand slipped under my dress, fingers finding the lace that was barely hiding how wet I was for him.

“F**k,” he hissed. “You’re soaked.”

I bit my lip. “Do something about it.”

That’s all it took.

He dropped to his knees like a man starved. Hooked his fingers into my panties and yanked them down. My leg lifted to his shoulder without a word, and then his mouth…

Oh God.

His tongue licked up my slit like it was something sacred. And then he sucked,sucked, on my clit until I saw stars.

I cried out, moaning so bad, so loud with a care in the world. My hands tangled in his hair. My hips bucked into his face shamelessly.

“That’s it,” he murmured into me. “Ride it, baby. Use me.”

I came. Hard. Shaking against the wall, his hands digging into my thighs like he couldn’t get enough.

But he wasn’t done.

He stood, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then unbuckled his belt.

“I’m going to f**k you now,” he said.

And he did.

Bent me over the couch like I was something to ruin. Slid into me with one long, hard thrust that knocked the breath from my lungs. He was so big that I could feel every inches of him filling me. 

“You feel like fucking heaven,” he growled into my ear. “So tight. So wet. So…Goddamn…perfect.”

My nails dug into the leather. I was lost in him. In the sound of skin slapping skin. In the dirty words he fed into my ear. In the way his fingers curled into my hips like he never wanted to let go.

And just when I thought I couldn’t take another second, he pulled out, turned me around, and pushed back in deeper.

I kissed him like I hated him.

He kissed me like he wanted to destroy me.

We came together. Loud. Messy. Real. Screaming like a slut. 

His body collapsed against mine, breathless. His fingers still gripped my thighs like he couldn’t let go. I felt raw. Split wide open.

But then, A knock. No, a voice.

“Mr. Wolfe, your car’s waiting. Your mother said the Lancaster family is expecting you at the engagement dinner.”

My blood turned to ice.  I turned my head, heart pounding.

Killian eyes opened slowly. Watched the horror creep across my face.

“What did they say?” I whispered.

“Why are you looking that way?”

I shoved at his chest. “What the hell did they say?”

He pulled out of me slowly. Too slowly.

I pushed at his chest, breath catching. “Did they just say… the Lancaster family?”

He blinked. Confused. “Yeah. Why?”

I sat up, my legs trembling. “I’m Ivy Lancaster.”

His eyes widened. All the heat vanished from his face.

“You’re…” His voice trailed off.

He stood up too fast, reaching for his pants like it would somehow undo what just happened. “Victor’s fiancée?”

I nodded, choking on the word. “And you’re…”

He swallowed hard. “Killian Wolfe. His older brother.”

Silence.

The air turned cold.

My stomach twisted.