04. TAKING OUT THEIR LOVERS

VALERIA

His entire demeanor screamed, I'm the damn master of everything here, the absolute ruler.

I immediately lowered my head, trembling.

It didn’t matter that I lacked an inner she-wolf— the power radiating from that man felt like it could suffocate you, crush your soul, and he wasn't even standing that close to me.

He was a Lycan, the superior species of werewolves, the ultimate evolution, and I was almost certain this was the most powerful of them all—Aldric Thorne, the Lycan King.

"Sasha, take out the trash and make sure my next personal maid isn’t a scheming whore, or she'll lose more than her head," his deep, cold, and intimidating voice echoed, followed by the sound of footsteps retreating.

"This is a disaster. That's the fifth one in two months. I don’t know what goes through these girls' heads. I warned them," the housekeeper muttered as she approached, pulling a small vial from the dead woman’s hand.

"Another one who tried to drug the King with an aphrodisiac. Idiot. I'll call a servant to take her away. And your first task begins now—clean up this mess."

And so, scrubbing fresh blood off the floor, my work in the Lycan King's castle began.

The first lesson I learned: never, ever try to mess with that dangerous man, or you'll end up headless.

Unfortunately, I soon found myself on the razor's edge again.

*****

Sasha introduced me to the staff, a group of she-wolves and wolves working in the castle, attending to the Guardians.

They all stared at me as if they were looking at a monster.

I didn’t care—I just wanted to keep existing and stay invisible.

"The Guardians"—that’s what they called the five Lycans who lived in this ancient, dark castle.

They enforced the laws of our world, or at least those affecting werewolves, maintaining balance with other supernatural creatures.

They delivered justice, protection, and punishment—often in the most brutal, merciless ways. Especially the Lycan King.

At least, that's what I had always heard.

I was forbidden from climbing the stairs or wandering beyond the service quarters. And honestly, I didn’t plan to try.

I focused on working and healing with the medicine the housekeeper gave me.

The food here was good too.

Except for the first day, I had gone three days without seeing any of the other Guardians.

Until this morning.

*****

"Hey, I heard the housekeeper saying she still hasn’t found a suitable candidate for the King's maid. Maybe she'll give us a chance."

I was scrubbing the floor on my knees, listening to the whispers echoing through the castle's massive kitchen.

My head stayed down, and my long black bangs nearly covered my eyes, helping to conceal the disfigurement on my face.

My hands kept moving the cloth over the tiles, but ignoring the gossip was impossible.

Suddenly, the room went silent. Heels echoed from the hallway, and tension filled the air— it was the housekeeper.

"Stop what you're doing. I want all of you in a line," she ordered, her voice sharp. The cooks, maids, and even me—the lowly cleaner—all lined up like prisoners, standing side by side.

She began her inspection, passing each trembling figure, heads bowed low.

When her shadow passed in front of me, I thought she would move on. She didn’t.

"What was your name again?" she asked.

"Valeria, ma'am," I replied softly.

Her cold finger pressed beneath my chin, forcing me to raise my head.

My blue eyes met her intimidating green gaze.

"Good. I think I'll try a different strategy this time. Come with me," she ordered, and a sense of dread twisted in my chest.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the stares from the other women in the line. Bitter glares filled with jealousy, anger, envy.

Nothing good. That much was certain.

"Listen carefully, Valeria. You're going to be King Aldric's personal maid," she dropped the bombshell casually, as if it were nothing, walking toward the other side of the kitchen.

"Do you know how to cook, iron, organize a man’s things, his clothes, and so on?"

"Y-yes, ma'am. But… I don’t think I'm the right choice for the position. Perhaps someone more—"

"It's not optional," she cut me off, turning abruptly.

"You either accept it, or you leave. I don't need a floor cleaner right now. I need a maid for the King. Understood?"

I had no choice but to nod. Sometimes, I forgot that this harsh woman had saved my life.

Though, honestly, I still didn’t know why—especially now that she was sending me straight into the Lycan's den.

"Memorize everything I'm about to say. The King wakes up at… He doesn’t like… Prefers it this way… And his meals are only prepared by the cook from this section. Make sure it’s always her… And you must taste it before serving him."

She paced through the kitchen, the laundry area, practically the entire service zone, listing the King's preferences and dislikes.

I followed, my brain nearly short-circuiting from the overwhelming information. I need to write all this down later!

"Alright. You'll deliver his first breakfast now. Do exactly as I told you," she said, placing a silver tray full of covered dishes in my hands.

"And Valeria… remember, head down. Stay invisible. You're nothing but a piece of furniture."

"And I trust you haven't forgotten the scene from your first day here. If you try anything against the King, believe me, he was merciful with that woman."

Her warning made me swallow hard as I nodded.

I didn’t consider myself a coward, but it felt like I was marching straight to the gallows as I climbed the forbidden stairs, moving through the dim candlelit corridors leading to the Guardian leader's quarters.

I reached the only door in this wing—an enormous wooden door with intricate carvings—and tried to recall every instruction.

"Don't knock at this hour. Go straight inside."

So I did. Balancing the tray carefully, I twisted the heavy doorknob.

Step by step, I entered the den of the big bad wolf, avoiding unnecessary glances around.

I immediately noticed the large wooden table at the center, the dim lighting, and I focused on setting the breakfast properly.

But then I heard it—and smelled it. The scent of lust and sex.

Through my bangs, I glanced toward a black door, slightly ajar.

Muffled female moans seeped through, despite being closed.

More than one woman’s voice.

The rhythmic sound of something hitting a wall echoed. Maybe the bed—I didn’t know, and I didn’t care.

The most important rule: head down, stay invisible. Don't speak. Don't look. Don't listen.

I was so focused on remembering every detail of his preferences, circling the table, that I didn’t even notice when the sounds stopped.

"Who are you?" a dominant voice behind me made me flinch.

My trembling fists tightened, and I turned, staring down at the gray rug.

"Your Majesty, my name is Valeria. I am your new maid," I managed without stuttering.

A massive shadow loomed over me, every instinct screaming danger, run—but I stood firm as he placed a finger beneath my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.

I expected disgust at my scarred face. Instead, I saw fierce, intimidating gray eyes studying me—so captivating they resembled lethal steel.

"Where's your inner wolf?" he asked, frowning.

How had he noticed with just one glance?

"I… I’m not entirely sure, sir. I suffered a traumatic experience before I turned eighteen, and her spirit never appeared. But… I can shift into my wolf form. Others say it's a curse."

I added quickly, half-expecting to be dismissed on my first day. Scarred, cursed—what a perfect maid.

"Is that why your face hasn't healed?" he asked, his voice calm but piercing.

"I suppose so, sir. My healing is… slower than others."

He said nothing, but his intense scrutiny made my skin crawl. Did I say the wrong thing?

I avoided lingering on his rugged features, but it was becoming clear why so many women risked losing their heads just for a night in his bed. Aldric Thorne was a man built for sin.

A towering figure, nearly two meters tall, with a powerful, scarred body, bold and commanding. Muscular, rough, impossibly sexy.

His bare chest was covered in red and black tattoos against pale, battle-marked skin.

And despite his icy aura, his long shoulder-length hair was deep crimson, just like his short beard—like fire, like blood he could spill without flinching.

"I don't care about your peculiarities, but I do expect you to have understood the rules clearly because I won't tolerate disobedience or tricks," he warned me, his voice dangerously low and guttural.

I nodded, swallowing hard.

"Yes, your maje—"

"And call me Sir. I don't like that Your Majesty nonsense," he clarified, finally releasing me and walking toward the other side of the room.

I exhaled, realizing I had been holding my breath the entire time. Yet, I could still catch that scent lingering from his skin, something like aged wine—rich, intoxicating, seductive.

Could it be some cologne? I couldn't detect the pheromones of werewolves like others could.

"They'll be here soon to collect those women. Make sure they leave and clean up everything," he ordered without even sparing me a glance, then disappeared through a door leading to what seemed like another room.

I remained standing there in the dim light, frozen for a moment.

Then, clenching my fists, I gathered my resolve and moved to deal with his lovers still in bed.

I opened the door and stared in shock at the chaotic scene inside.

The room was dimly lit, clothes strewn across the floor, and in the center, three naked women lay sprawled on a massive oak bed.

The heavy scent of lust filled the air, making it hard to breathe.

"Umm… ladies, it's time to leave," I said softly, stopping at the edge of the bed, but none of them reacted, their eyes shut as if completely oblivious.

They looked exhausted, their bodies marked with bites, bruises, and a mess of fluids—semen mixed with blood—staining their thighs.

"The King ordered you to leave. You need to—"

"Shut the hell up, you annoying brat!" snarled the busty blonde lying in the middle of the two brunettes, even throwing a pillow at me, which I narrowly dodged.

Well, they still have some energy left, it seems.

Okay, this wasn’t going as smoothly as I had imagined, and they were already settling back down as if planning to sleep there.

Aren't they uncomfortable covered in all that… stuff?

But I couldn't fail my first task. I knew he had done this on purpose—to test me.

I headed to the bathroom, filled a basin with cold water, and placed it near the bed.

Rolling up my sleeves, exposing my pale arms, I then walked over to the massive crimson curtains, grabbed the heavy fabric, and yanked them open with force.

"Aaaahh! Close it, you bitch! Close the damn curtain!" they screeched like the possessed, even though the sky was overcast.

The sun never really shone brightly here—this land was always cloaked in thick fog.

Grabbing the basin, I lifted it and—splash!—drenched them in icy water to snap them out of it.

"Have you lost your damn mind, you filthy maid?!"