THE KING'S OFFER

Chapter Three

LYCAN CYRIL'S

"Not now, Alan." I didn't need to look back at the door to know it was Alan West, my executive assistant.

There was a moment of silence before the door went closed leaving me the privacy I needed with this redhead before me.

Her scent had intoxicated my being all through the night, I’d laid low from where I sat in the VIP, predatory gaze trained her way, waiting for this excellent opportunity to spring up.

My eyes roamed her beautiful face, a distinct shade of red.

"Don't touch me!" She scowled, slapping off my hand when I tried to cradle her face.

I understood her devotion to her husband, the imposing blond who had pranced the hall with a huge grin tugging his face. But the need to make her mine was just too overwhelming to ignore.

"What is your name?" I mumbled, lust clipped to every word I spoke. The need to touch her all over again became irresistible.

"No, I'm married." She shook her head as though trying to wake from all of this. Yet, this became the most pleasant dream I could ever live in. The blue moon tattoo on her back confirms she's all I need to be at peace.

"You should've waited for me. Do you love him?" Unsure why I asked her but my chest constricted, not braced for the response that was about to fall off her luscious lips.

Goddess, how was she real?

Her pulse quickened again when I pulled her back into my arms, raising her from the floor so as not to give her the balance to refute, loving how her limbs wrapped around me tight.

"Please." She purred. Helpless. Parting her lips so her tongue could peek out to dampen her lips.

She begged me, for what exactly? To kiss her? Her gaze solely on my lips, and her heart thrashing wildly against my chest, leaving me confused as hell. My fingers softly clamped her jaws, resisting the temptation to lower my head towards hers.

"You're mine, Miss redhead, and I don't care what I'm going to do but I fuckin' swear to not stop until you're mine forever!"

Regrettably, I released her, she dropped off me and scurried towards the door like a bruised puppy, leaving her lavender scent to taunt me.

I waited on the balcony with the wind on my face and until the war waging inside of me doused. Clearing the jab from my throat, I strengthened my suit jacket and returned to the hall.

My speech was quite swift. My gaze creeped to lock on hers every now and then, her husband possessively beside her with the most ridiculous smile I'd ever seen.

Applauds accompanied the end of my speech, but she didn't bother to clap not until her husband sent his elbow to her ribcage.

"Who the fuck is that?" I asked Lance my second in command.

Lance filtered through to the redhead and her blond husband and clucked his tongue vaguely. Alan, my assistant, was the next to have my question tossed at.

Alan never disappointed.

"Thompson Weverse, son of Alpha Marcus Weverse, alpha of the Silverstone pack with his first wife, uhm, pardon, but I'm not quite sure of her name, your Majesty."

"First wife?"

Alan shrugged, afraid to give out the wrong information. He politely excused himself, got lost in the crowd and returned to me.

"Yes, his first wife, Alessia Keith,"

Alessia. The name sounded strange on my lips. Interesting profile. Now I'd met her, I wanted to know more than just her name. How else to do that than to get cunning?

"Invite them over to the VIP," I caught the confused expression on Lance and Alan's face before I quickly added, "I think I have a proposal for Mr. Weverse."

I did. But just wasn't certain yet.

Alan disappeared from the VIP, I watched him skip to them with my offer. As expected, Mr. Weverse jumped at the offer but what stabbed into my heart was how helplessly his wife shook her head, dread in her eyes.

Looked like Mr. Weverse was a man of his opinion because he started towards the VIP right behind Alan with his wife in tow, her head tipped over, shoulders slumped forward. I made no mistakes of Mr. Weverse's hard grip on her arms.

Or was I imagining things?

Alessia nearly turned back when our gazes snagged but her husband seemed to be a man who grabbed opportunity when it surfaced.

"Our great king," He bowed stiffly, "I'm ever grateful and honored to be invited here tonight."

Guilt permitted a stiff nod from me. He was here only because I wanted his wife closer to me. She was quiet all through at the table. The drink before her untouched, her gaze on her fingers as though she could've been anywhere or trying to train her gaze from roving.

My phone beeped, I gave it a cursory glance and released a silent breath. Time to leave.

However, the more the thoughts of walking out of my mate built in my head, the more the anxiety of losing her swelled inside. I knew now, who she was, her name, and her husband held a position in the territory that made him easy to spot.

As I got to my feet, the rest of the table instantly got to their feet, courteously bowing to acknowledge my exit. The relief on Alessia's face was like hundreds of daggers to my chest.

The phalanx of security guards escorted me to the waiting car. In the back of my car, the scenes from earlier replayed over and again with rising intensity. My mind dwelling on what could've happened, how the night could've ended if my mate wasn't married.

She could've waited for me.

My gaze dropped on the profile from the background check Alan just texted to my phone, I vetoed Thompson Weverse's profile and settled extensively on the smiling redhead in a lacy white wedding dress. A picture probably photographed on her wedding day.

Her smiles appeared boundless. She looked so much in love. She loved him enough, the only explanation for how relentlessly she had fought off the heat.

"Alessia Keith, daughter of the Alpha of Bloodrain Pack, twenty-five years of age," I paused from my interesting read to mentally process what I just read. When they settled, my gaze returned to my screen.

She could've waited for me!

I put away my phone and remained unnaturally still grieving my sense of loss. But I never was a quitter. If the Lycan territories must know freedom, then I needed to think of a way to make her mine. There had to be a way. The goddess wasn't being fair. She was vastly aware of how much I needed and prayed for my mate but she permitted her to marry another man.

The next slide brought me instantly stunned by my Louboutins. A son?

This brought an unwelcome chill feathering down my spine. If she had a happy family, a son as lovely as this then she was never going to consider walking out on them. Anger burned savagely inside of me like a fiery furnace as I put off my phone. The goddess wasn't being fair at all.

The car pulled up outside the villa I was offered to stay in. I summoned Alan over, even though the time chimed eleven p.m and Alan deserved a much needed rest from a long day. I still had a need for him.

Alan came right away and waited in the living area. Although dulled out by having so much to drink that night, he didn't look bothered at all.

"If this is about this redhead..." He went automatically silent when I whirled around, the smirks on his face plain.

"She has a husband and a son." I said as though giving myself reasons to back off.

"The goddess might never spare such..."

"The goddess played funny first," I growled, "She chose to make this difficult for me, why the fuck should I play by the rules?" The scowls on my face knocked off every bit of humor from Alan's face as I got closer to him. His Brioni suit jacket was off, shirt tucked out, buttons loose.

"I just disturbed your night's rest, but I don't care what you do and how you plan this but I want that girl right in my arms."

Alan's jaws dropped to the floor. Dumbfounded to the core. His blank gaze heavy on my face as though not understanding a word I said. Even I didn't understand exactly what I said. Not when this heat was growing by the hour.