The Kept Lover Turns Out to Be the Wolf King

The soft hum of piano notes drifted through the upscale restaurant, mingling with the muffled tread of servers’ footsteps on plush carpet and the delicate clink of cutlery kissing porcelain. Everything exuded refinement and calm—a stark contrast to the chaotic, crowded streets thirty-two floors below.

But beneath the serene surface, a current of tension pulsed.

“Are you unwell? What’s with that look?”

Beneath the pristine white tablecloth, I lounged with an air of nonchalance, one leg crossed, the pointed tip of my stiletto grazing the sensitive, complex terrain of the man’s tailored trousers. As a server approached with our dishes, I fixed him with my most innocent gaze, voice dripping with faux concern.

“Is this why you dragged me out to dinner? To toy with me?”

His voice, thick with restrained desire, was low and intoxicating, a husky edge laced with seductive allure. It was one of the things I liked about him.

“Of course not.” I arched a brow, my hand sliding over his tightly clenched fist, soothing him.

Because, let’s be clear, this wasn’t about teasing him in broad daylight at my favorite restaurant. Playing games was a ruse. Saying goodbye was the truth.

No choice, really. Since I plucked him from a bar near the university to be my lover, this past year with him has been spent tangled in sheets. Whenever I had a moment, I’d summon him to a designated spot. The second the door opened, our mutual hunger took over, leading to fervent, primal collisions that left only shredded clothes in their wake. No idle chit-chat, no mundane couple’s outings.

That was our dynamic—not lovers, but the perfect arrangement of benefactor and kept man. Especially since everything about him, from his chiseled physique to the scent of his skin, aligned flawlessly with the desires of both me and my wolf.

But a year of keeping him was as far as my feelings went. A farewell meal at my favorite restaurant, letting him savor its exquisite dishes, was my rare moment of warmth—a final gesture of kindness.

That said, my hand didn’t hesitate to glide over his taut abs, moving in rhythm with my foot, teasing him until he teetered on the edge of ecstasy—then stopping cold.

He seized my hand, his eyes blazing with barely contained need. “Keep going, and I’ll drag you out that door right now, find the nearest bed, and make you pay for your mischief.”

“But if I don’t touch you now, I won’t get another chance.”

My expression remained effortlessly cool, but his face froze. The haze of desire vanished, replaced by a chilling intensity. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I rose gracefully, slinging my bag over my shoulder, and brushed my fingers along his sharply defined jaw before turning to leave. “Exactly what it sounds like, darling. That seaside villa you love? I’ll have my assistant transfer it to your name. And eight million will hit your account.”

But instead of the expected thrill at such wealth, he gripped my wrist, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “Lila, are you dumping me?”

I leaned down, pressing a kiss to his tightly pressed lips, and with a gentle twist, freed my wrist from his grasp.

I knew he wouldn’t push. He never did anything to embarrass a woman, not even in the height of passion when he’d shield me even as we lost ourselves. Especially not now, in a restaurant where my standing figure was already drawing curious glances from other diners. He wouldn’t make a scene.

Another trait I admired.

A pang of regret hit me at the thought of losing him, prompting a rare explanation. “Be good, darling. I forgot to mention—I have a husband. And now that he’s back, it’s not convenient to keep playing. So, we’re done. But I’ll always think of you.”

With that, I walked away without looking back.

As expected, no outburst followed. I knew he’d stay, finish the meal I’d ordered—dishes tailored to his tastes.

After all, he was just a broke college student, moonlighting at a bar, drowning in student loans. No matter how much this breakup stung, he couldn’t make waves. Not with the fortune I’d just handed him—enough to clear his debts and live lavishly for a while.

Satisfied, I strode to the parking lot, slid into my sports car, and floored the accelerator, the engine roaring as I sped off.

Losing such a delectable lover was a shame, but it paled in comparison to what mattered most. My instincts demanded I protect my rightful status and resources.

Because my damn husband was coming back.

His words from a year ago, spoken at our wedding, still burned in my memory, vivid as ever.

“Lila, our marriage is just a business arrangement to uphold the glory of our families. You and I both know that.”

“But because of this arrangement, I found my true love. A twist of fate.”

Damian had the audacity to say this moments before the pack elders were to bind our vows. When he spoke of true love, his gaze softened, drifting to a familiar, shocking figure in the audience—Isabelle, my friend.

As murmurs rippled through the crowd, Damian extended his hand to her. Isabelle rose, accepting his invitation, and walked to his side. They stood before me, as if pleading for my blessing, but in truth, they delivered my greatest humiliation.

“Lila, please, let us be. Isabelle doesn’t care about being the pack’s Luna. She just wants to be my wife. I swear, this marriage contract will hold—you’ll have all the titles it grants. But that’s all. I’m leaving with Isabelle. Only she will have me—and my wolf’s unwavering loyalty.”

Ignoring the protests of both our families, Damian ran off with Isabelle, boarding a pre-booked flight out of the country, leaving me to clean up the mess.

I crushed the bouquet in my hands until it was nothing but petals on the floor.

But when the pack elders and members of the Thorne and Voss families asked if the wedding would proceed, I gave a cold smile. “Why wouldn’t it? No matter who the Alpha is, I am the Luna. That’s the Moon Goddess’s will, isn’t it?”

What’s mine, I hold tight. No one takes it from me.

As for a man like Damian, I felt nothing for him. Isabelle could have my trash.

Over the past year, I leveraged my Luna status and the guilt of my parents and Damian’s to consolidate resources, expanding the influence of both families and the pack. My success drew the attention of the royal werewolf court, and voices within our pack began to rise—some urging me to choose a new husband as Alpha, others boldly supporting me to claim the Alpha title myself, becoming the pack’s undisputed ruler.

And now, Damian had contacted his parents, saying he was coming back.

My sports car carved a sleek arc as I sped into the Voss family estate.

I knew exactly what Damian was thinking. He’d realized his Alpha status was no longer secure, that I—or a man I chose—could replace him. That’s why he was rushing back.

So much for his lofty claims of pure love, untainted by titles.

Let’s see what he thinks he can take from me.