Chapter 28 Meeting the Cursed Lycan King

Chapter 28 Meeting the Cursed Lycan King
Amaris is led quietly for a few minutes, through a tall set of doors and eventually into a sunlit chamber that steals the breath from her lungs from just how bright it is in there.
The room is vast and open, a few pale stone walls but mostly tall glass windows that allow the morning light to pour in unrestrained. Gold dust hangs in the air where the sun cuts through it, illuminating the polished floor and the long table at the center of the space.
Guards line the walls, still and silent, their presence heavy even when they do nothing at all... They are all wolves and they are very present but maybe not at the same time?
And then she sees him...
Her host.
Hunter Axton stands near the far window, one hand braced against the half stone sill, his back partially turned as he looks out over the courtyard below and ahead to where some of the ladies are still gathered and whispering while most of the others trudge slowly to their dorms or to breakfast.
In this daylight, there is no mistaking him, no shadows to soften the truth of what he is, he is as roughish as she's thought him to be ever since she never got a perfectly good look at that man, but now, his scent hangs, sickly sweet, in the air above her like a crowd.
He is tall, broad-shouldered, built like a man forged for violence and command rather than comfort. His dark hair is pulled back loosely, a few strands escaping to brush his neck while that long extra strand to cover the mark on his face stays right in place.
The morning light catches the sharp planes of his face when he turns, and Amaris feels it like a physical blow as she gets a full look at him, the one her wolf screams for.
Her breath stutters.
So this is him... This is the man who carried her through the dark like she weighed nothing at all. Her wolf surges forward violently, far louder than it has ever been before.
"MATE!"
The word crashes through her mind with certainty so absolute that it makes her dizzy on her feet. Her knees weaken just a little, her body reacting before her thoughts can catch up.
Her pulse kicks hard, heat pooling low in her belly in a way she does not understand and cannot control. The scent she had remembered in fragments the night before is overwhelming now, something dangerously intimate beneath it.
She wants to lunge at him and do everything that she should not be doing to anyone to him! How she'd love to... Amaris gasps audibly, releasing her unconsciously clenched fists.
Hunter stiffens in turn.
The change is instant and unmistakable. His shoulders lock, his jaw tightens, and when he turns fully to face her, the air in the room seems to sharpen.
His dark red colored eyes find hers in the light and even in the bright daylight, the brightness of that red eyes is unmissable. Something dark flashes there, something far more dangerous than he'd admit, than she'd want for intimacy.
“Enough!” he says sharply.
The word is not loud, but it cuts through her like a blade.
Her wolf recoils with a startled snarl, hackles raised.
"He is ours," she insists, offended, confused.
Amaris swallows hard, her hands curling at her sides as she tries to pull herself together. She does not know what she has done wrong, only that something in him has shifted and it is not safe to be so close to him right now.
Hunter steps away from the window and begins to approach her slowly, deliberately. Each step is measured, controlled, as though he is restraining something that wants very badly to break free.
“Do not do that again,” he says, his voice low and edged with something that makes her spine prickle.
“I… I do not know what you mean, Your Majesty, but I certainly will not.” Amaris replies quietly, remembering to bow her head when a guard gives her a hard look.
He stops a few feet away from her.
Up close, the effect is worse.
His presence presses in on her from all sides, commanding and unyielding. She can feel him in her bones, in her blood, in places she has no language for yet. His gaze drops briefly to her throat, to the enticing mass of flesh that he'd throw everything and nothing away, right there, to suck the life out of, right there, before his gaze, hesitantly and slowly returns to her eyes.
“You feel far too much for someone who should feel nothing at all,” he says.
The accusation is calm but the warning beneath it is not.
Amaris lifts her chin despite herself. “I did not choose to be brought here, Your Majesty.”
“No,” Hunter agrees. “But you are here nonetheless, and on my orders at that, so do not complain. You should be honoured at the very least!”
Silence stretches between them, thick and charged.
The guards remain motionless, though Amaris is acutely aware of their presence now, she senses that one wrong move would have consequences she cannot undo.
Hunter studies her openly, his eyes sharp and assessing, as though stripping her down to something essential beneath the surface. It is not leering, not kind, but it makes her skin heat up all the same.
“You disarmed me last night,” he says at last.
Her breath catches in surprise at his openness. “I did not mean to, Your Majesty, I'm sorry if I did wrong.”
“I know you didn't mean to, and I know you're not sorry.” he replies.
That, somehow, is worse.
He turns away from her abruptly, pacing a short distance as though needing space. His hand drags through his hair, coming to a stop before he undoes the bun, frustration flickering across his face before it is smothered beneath control once more.
“That does not change the fact that you did,” he continues. “And I do not tolerate vulnerability and anyone who makes me feel such, I have their bodies separated from their heads.”
Amaris hesitates, then speaks before she can stop herself. “You saved me, I thank you for that.”
Hunter stills and slowly, he looks back at her.
“Yes,” he says quietly. “And that is precisely the problem, you're merely a slave of mine, subject to my whims and caprices. The last thing I should be doing is saving anyone, much less a feeble slave like you.”
The weight of his words settles heavily in her chest. She does not fully understand them, but she feels their truth all the same.
For a moment, neither of them speaks. The air hums with things unsaid, with instincts straining against restraint. Her wolf watches him warily now, still certain, but no longer carefree.
"He is dangerous," it murmurs. "...but he is ours, and we'll wait...?"
Hunter seems to sense the shift, his gaze narrowing slightly as though he can feel her wolf pressing at the edges of her control.
“You will return to the others,” he says finally, his tone clipped, all signs of warmth stripped away. “You will speak to no one about this meeting.”
Amaris nods, relief and disappointment tangling together in her chest.
“And Amaris,” he adds, stopping her just as she turns to leave.
He knows her name... She almost smiles but catches herself in time before she turns around and looks back at him.
His expression is unreadable, his eyes dark and intent. “Do not make me want things I cannot afford to take.”
Her heart stumbles achingly and painfully at that.
'guess he won't be ours then...'
“Yes, Your Majesty,” she whispers, disappointment etched at the edge of her voice.
He dismisses her with a sharp turn of his back, already retreating behind the armor of his title and his crown.
As the doors close behind her, Amaris presses a trembling hand to her chest, her wolf pacing restlessly inside her.
She still does not know what he is to her.
But she knows, with frightening certainty, that whatever binds them is not gentle.
And Hunter Axton knows it too.