CHAPTER 12

How could I forget, life never makes things easy for me.

Elara's eyes dropped, her focus returning to washing my hair. "I'm not at liberty to discuss such matters, miss."

What was I even expecting?

I sank deeper into the bathtub, letting Elara work her magic on my hair. Her warm touch melted away my tension, and I closed my eyes, exhaling deeply. The calm washed over me, and memories of Midnight slowly crept in – the thrill of our midnight rides, the wind in my hair, and the peaceful baths that followed.

Elara's gentle hands stirred those memories, reminding me of a life I never knew I'd miss so desperately. Tears streamed down my cheeks, blending with the water. I ached for Midnight – her soft mane, our freedom, and the joy we shared. The longing was overwhelming.

"Your hair is lovely, miss," Elara said, her voice light and conversational. "The color reminds me of the midnight sky."

Midnight.

The world echoed in my head.

"Thank you," I replied, smiling slightly. "Um..." I hesitated, pinching my lips with my teeth. "Elara, how long have you served the king?" I asked.

"Many years, miss," she replied, her expression neutral.

"What's he like?" I probed.

Elara's hands paused, her eyes darting around the room once more.

"I serve the king, miss," she said finally. "It's not my place to share opinions." I nodded slowly and returned my gaze to the warm water, where Elara's reflection stared back at me - her eyes cast downward, her features soft and subdued, like a faint watercolor painting.

When I was done with my bath, Elara helped me into a plush robe and began to dry my hair, her fingers moving with a soothing gentleness.

It might be hard to believe, but this was the first time I'd ever been treated with such care and effort, despite being the alpha's daughter. The feeling was unfamiliar, and I wasn't sure I could get used to it.

Just as Elara finished drying my hair, a knock at the door interrupted us.

"Enter," I called out. Elara's hands still gently tangled in my hair. The door creaked open, and Sabastine, the butler, stood in the doorway. "Dinner is served, Miss Layla. The king awaits."

My heart skipped a beat. "Can't I have mine in my room?"

He shook his head. "I don't think that's possible."

"The Lycan King's order. " My voice cracked and I hated that it did.

Elara's hands gave my shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "Shall I help you dress, miss?" she asked.

I nodded, a small smile playing on my lips.

Elara helped me into a gown, its silk fabric shimmering in the candlelight. The neckline was modest, but the fitted bodice and flowing skirt made me feel elegant.

"You look beautiful, miss," Elara said, a smile crinkling the side of her lips.

I returned her smile, taking a deep breath to steel myself for dinner with the Lycan king.

We met Sabastine waiting outside the door, his expression as impassive as ever. "Shall we, Miss Layla?" he asked.

I nodded, and Sabastine offered his arm. As we walked, the silence between us grew thick with unspoken questions.

The Lycan king stood at the head of the table, his piercing gaze locking onto mine as I entered. His eyes never left me, making my skin prickle.

"Layla," he said, his deep voice low and husky. "You look lovely."

I curtsied, feeling a flutter in my chest. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

As I took my seat, the king's gaze continued to hold mine. I sensed a hunger in his eyes, one that went beyond mere curiosity.

We started the meal, with different courses of dishes served by silent servants. Small conversation flowed around me, but I felt disconnected, trapped in the Lycan king's intense stare.

Can't he just stop staring at me!

"You're not eating," the king observed, his voice breaking the spell.

I forced a smile, taking a bite of the roasted meat. The flavors danced on my tongue, but my appetite was lost.

"Is the meal not to your liking?" He asked.

I met his gaze, trying my utmost best to appear calm. "I have no problem with the meal, Your Majesty."

His gaze remained fixed on me, his eyes tracing every movement of my lips as I chewed. His expression was a mix of hunger and curiosity, his lips slightly parted as he watched me intently.

"You're quite the silent one," he finally said, breaking the silence. "Do you always eat like this? Like you're afraid to enjoy it?

"What?" I asked, taken aback by the question

The king leaned back in his chair, his eyes still on me. "You look uncomfortable," he said. There was an intense silence between us before he broke it with a chuckle, a deep, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down my spine. "Is it because of me?"

I didn't dare say yes. Instead, I sliced a piece of roasted meat and placed it in my mouth. I chewed on it slowly.

The king's gaze never wavered, his eyes boring into mine as he waited for an answer.

"No, Your Majesty," I said finally, "it's just been a long time since I've had such a feast." I popped another piece into my mouth, hoping he couldn't see through my lie.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he watched me eat. "You'd look like you haven't had a feast in a long time," he said, his voice low and amused. "Your table manners are atrocious."

I bit my lip as I struggled to contain my emotions, I bit it so hard that I tasted blood. Slowly, I set my cutlery down on the dining table. "I think I'm full," I said, wiping my lips with a serviette. "May I be excused to return to my room?"

"Of course," he said, gesturing towards the door. "You may return to your room, but only after we finish our conversation."

I clenched my fist, a surge of frustration coursing through my vain. "Of course," I replied, wearing a faux smile.

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze still fixed on me. "You're not a very talkative one, are you?" His tone was casual. "Not like the others I've had."

"Do you prefer your toys to be on the talkative side?" I asked. There was an intense silence before he burst into a deep, rumbling laugh, the sound echoing through the dining hall.

Tears glistened in his eyes as he composed himself. "I think that's the most clever question I've ever been asked," he said, his voice still chuckling. "I prefer them to be more responsive," he replied, his eyes flickering over me. "But if you're not feeling chatty, I can live with that too."

He pushed his chair back and stood up, circling around the table to stand behind me. He leaned down to speak into my ear, his breath hot against my skin. "You're already entertaining enough."

I steeled myself and asked the question that had been clawing on my thoughts. " "Why did you bid for me?"

He chuckled softly, his hand resting on my shoulder. "Oh, I had my reasons," he said, his voice low and smooth. "You looked interesting." He moved his hand up to my hair, twirling a strand around his finger. "And you're quite beautiful, too."

"That's... all?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

He tilted my head back to look at him, his eyes roaming over my face. "That's all you need to know," he said, his fingers still playing with my hair. "But I have my reasons for wanting you. And I always get what I want."