09

Tyrant Luciano Zarkov “And you,” I said, voice low and rough as gravel, “should be very careful how close you stand to me when you say things like that.” The air between us thickened instantly, heavy as smoke. My c**k jerked hard against the front of my trousers, thick and aching, straining like it had a mind of its own. Eight hundred f*****g years and one slip of her tongue had me harder than I’d ever been in my entire immortal life. She was still hurt — ribs taped beneath that thin nightdress, the fresh scar on her abdomen still pink and angry. I wasn’t a monster. I wasn’t going to throw her down and rut into her like my wolf was screaming to do. But Katherine didn’t back away. She leaned in closer. Her breath ghosted over my lips, warm and sweet. Those hazel eyes — still a little hazy from two weeks of unconsciousness — darkened with something hungry and unafraid. Her hands lifted, fingertips brushing the front of my shirt, right over my racing heartbeat. Another inch and her mouth would have crashed into mine. I could smell her — crushed lavender and wildflowers, the faint metallic edge of healing blood, and underneath it all, the sweet, unmistakable slick of arousal blooming between her thighs. My wolf slammed against the cage of my ribs, snarling *mine, mine, claim her, mark her, fill her*. My hands flexed at my sides, claws threatening to slip free. I could already taste her on my tongue. Then the door swung open. We jerked apart like guilty teenagers. She stumbled back a step, cheeks flooding crimson, chest heaving. I turned away fast, jaw clenched so tight it hurt, willing my erection to calm the f**k down before I embarrassed myself in front of my own advisor. Percy stood frozen in the doorway, eyes on the floor. “Your Majesty… forgive the intrusion. Urgent matter.” I dragged my eyes off her. “Yes, Percy?” Percy hesitated, his gaze flicking toward Katherine for half a second before dropping to the floor. “It’s… a bit personal.” I followed his quick glance to her, then nodded once. I turned and walked out, heading straight for my office. The door closed behind me with a heavy thud. A moment later, a knock. I turned to face him. “So what’s this personal matter?” “The elder running the illegal unregistered business is Elder Morgan…” “And who’s that?” “The beta’s wife,” Percy said carefully, “and also Helen—Madam Katherine’s rival I suppose. Ex husband mistress now wife.” I felt the slow smirk pull at my mouth again. I nodded, once, twice. “Interesting… interesting… such a very ill family…” “I will see that they go beyond punished,” I said, voice calm, almost bored. “But not now, Percy. Tomorrow you will have my lady start royal training. I want everything this pack knows about her gone. I don’t care if you do magic. Make sure everything is changed.” “Absolutely, Your Majesty!” — The first thing I felt was the strain in my muscles. The second… was irritation. The sun had barely risen, pale light bleeding through the tall glass windows of the private gym. It painted everything in cold gold — the steel equipment, the polished floors, the sweat rolling down my skin. I welcomed the burn. It kept me grounded. Because if I stopped— My grip tightened around the barbell as I pushed through another rep, jaw clenched. Her scent still lingered in my head. Lavender. Wild. Tempting. I dropped the bar with a controlled thud, chest rising and falling steadily. Eight hundred years, countless battles, kingdoms bent to my will… and somehow, one woman had managed to crawl under my skin in less than two weeks. Unacceptable. I dragged a hand through my damp hair and stepped away, grabbing a towel. The cold shower that followed did nothing to quiet the restless energy beneath my skin. If anything, it sharpened it. By the time I was dressed — dark slacks, crisp shirt, sleeves rolled just enough — I had my composure back where it belonged. Controlled. I walked downstairs. And there she was. Katherine stood by the table, arms crossed beneath her chest, posture straight but eyes sharp — watching, measuring. The morning light softened her features, but there was nothing soft about the way she held my gaze. “You’re up late,” she said. I didn’t slow my steps. “My lady,” I replied evenly, “I wake when I choose.” Her lips pressed together slightly, but she said nothing to that. Instead, she shifted, her stance tightening. “And any reason why I’m suddenly having royal training?” she asked, her tone calm—but edged. I stopped a few steps away from her. Studied her. If someone had told me this was the same woman who once tolerated a man like Sebastian, I wouldn’t have believed it. There was something different now. Sharper. Awake. Interesting. “I’m attending the pack welcome party,” I said. “You’ll be accompanying me.” Her brows lifted instantly. “Did you ask for my approval, Mr. Luciano?” A faint smirk tugged at my mouth. “Why would I need to?” Her arms tightened. “Because I’m not your possession.” The room stilled. I stepped closer. “But you are my mate.” The words dropped between us like a verdict. Her expression faltered — just for a second. “I don’t even know you,” she said, quieter now, but no less firm. “You don’t need to.” Her gaze sharpened again. “I don’t know your name properly, your background—anything. You expect me to just follow you blindly?” I held her stare. “Luciano Zarkov,” I said calmly. “Age — eight hundred and thirty-five. Born a rogue. Rose to power. Now…” a slight pause, “I rule.” Silence stretched. She blinked once, clearly thrown, but recovering quickly. “Well—” I cut in smoothly. “Is there anything else you require, my lady?” She hesitated, then shook her head slightly. “No… I’m fine. So I just… learn all this for the party?” I stepped into her space then, slow, deliberate. Her breath hitched — barely noticeable, but I caught it. “Not exactly,” I murmured. My hand lifted, cupping her face gently but firmly, forcing her to hold my gaze. “I want you to walk in there and make it impossible for anyone to look away.” Her pulse flickered beneath my thumb. “And then,” I added, voice lower, “I’ll remind them who you belong to.” Her lips parted slightly. “I’m glad you’re so… invested,” she said, a hint of something teasing slipping through. “I can’t imagine dealing with a man who doesn’t care.” A quiet chuckle left me. “Oh, but you already did,” I said. “What was his name again… Sebastian?” Her expression hardened instantly. “That was the old Katherine,” she said. “She’s gone.” Before I could respond— She rose onto her toes. And kissed me. It wasn’t hesitant. It wasn’t soft. It was deliberate. Claiming. For a split second, I stilled. Then my hand tightened slightly against her jaw as I kissed her back — controlled, but no less intense. When she pulled away, her eyes held mine, steady. “I’ll learn,” she said quietly. “I’ll make you proud, Tyrant.”