All Chapters of The Lycan King's Plump Obsession: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

RhettThe corridor was empty as I walked her down it, her weight on my arm. I heard her breathing, ragged from the shouting and the crying. I heard the quiet shuffle of her shoes on the stone floor. I heard my own heartbeat under it all.The door latch clicked shut behind us. Ilsa wrenched her arm free, fingernails digging into my skin. She spun to face me, her bloody hand coming up, fingers curled. The slap cracked against my cheek. I turned my head with the force of her blow, my eyes watering at the sting."I'm your fuckin' sister," she snarled, low and vicious. I let it land. I didn't touch my burning cheek. My older sister always hit first."Sit down, Ilsa.""Don't tell me what to do," she spat, her deep voice barely above a murmur. Her eyes darted to the door behind me.I went to the washstand, poured water from the jug into the basin, dipped the cloth in and wrung it out. I held it out to her, silent."I don't want your hands on me." Her voice was rough, the corner of her mouth

MarenThe press door creaked open with a groan. I woke, my eyes snapping to the sound. I held still, careful not to make a noise as I watched through my lashes. Ilsa stood with her back half turned to me. She hummed softly to herself as she pulled out my dresses one at a time, checking each the same way. She turned up the hem, ran one of her wrapped fingertips along the seam, feeling inside the pocket too. Like someone searching.She folded back the hem, not quite the way it had been, and set the dress aside before reaching for the next. A thin strip of grey light sliced through the heavy curtains and she lifted one of the dresses into it, holding it up. Her mouth pinched tight as her eyes scanned the fabric, taking in the generous width at the waist and hips before she lowered it and laid it across her arm. The fire was lit, the flames already tall and hot, warming the room.Which meant she'd been here for some time while I slept, moving around my bedroom.I pulled the sheet up to my

MarenI felt my nails bite into the flesh of her scalp. Ilsa's fingers tightened on my wrist, hard pressure through the wet linen bandages.She squeezed, each finger closing one by one. I didn't care. I kept her face down, letting the water lap at her chin.But then her grip loosened, finger by finger. I saw her decide to let go. Water dripped from her lips. Her eyes met mine. She was angry. I knew she hated me. I also knew she had no choice."Forgive me, Madam," Ilsa whispered.Brida came off the wall anyway. She took Ilsa's wrapped hand off my wrist and bent the fingers back, not gently. Ilsa's face went white, and she drew a sharp breath."You put your hands on me," I said, low and flat.I held her hair one breath longer, then let go when I chose. Ilsa sat back on her heels on the wet stone, her bun half pulled loose, wet strands stuck to her cheek, rubbing her bent fingers."Brida will finish," I said.Ilsa stayed kneeling where she was, eyes on the floor. Brida took the cloth. She

RonanI'd been feeling her all morning. Something cold and hard rippling through the bond, then a sharp jolt about an hour ago that had me cursing and slapping my palms on the desk. If there had been any pain in it, I would've left this chair. But there wasn't, so I forced myself to stay seated.Rhett looked up from the papers across the desk. "What's wrong?""Shut up." I turned back to my own papers, but a minute later I couldn't stand it. The thin crack of light between the shutters was too bright, and the scratch of Rhett's quill filled the whole room. "What the fuck are you doing?"He set the quill down, giving me a long look. "You think it's starting?" he asked after a moment.I didn't answer. The full moon was still two nights away."Majesty, Sigrun has the wing now, and she wants to know what to do with the girls during the moon."I glared at him. "Are you messing with me?""No, Majesty.""Fuck her. To hell with all of them."Rhett shifted in his chair. "In that case, I was thi

Maren"One!" shouted the yard. A white stripe seared across Ilsa's back, turning crimson as it swelled. Her whole body shuddered violently, muscles tensing against the rope that bound her to the post. A strangled sound caught in her throat and stayed there.The Head Cook shook out the whip and wiped his palm on his apron. He glanced at the sun.Brida's voice came from behind me, low and pleased. "Look at that mark on the bitch's back. Pretty as a rose."I didn't answer.The whip cracked again."Two!" A fresh white line crossed the crimson one. The skin split beneath them and crimson beads welled up, running down her spine in rivulets.The yard held its breath through the minute. At the third lash, a cry tore from her throat."Three!" the yard shouted.I looked at Rhett as we waited again. His eyes stayed flat on the post, like a man watching a chore get done.The lash hissed once more."Four!" Ilsa's back arched, her spine standing out like a ridge of stone. The cry that burst from he