Chapter 10 Chamber
10: Chamber
The last time Lucian carried me like this, I was pretty sure he wanted to chain me to a wall and lecture me about disobedience.
This time… I wasn’t so sure.
His chambers loomed large, carved stone walls aglow with the light of a dozen fire-pots. The room smelled like cedar, smoke, and the faintest trace of iron.
The door slammed shut behind us with a flick of his clawed hand.
And then silence.
He set me on my feet, but barely—because his hands didn’t leave me. They spanned my waist, claws grazing the fabric of my dress, pinning me to the moment like I was air he refused to exhale.
I tried for humour, because that’s my default setting in the face of impending doom or… sex. Same difference.
“So,” I breathed, eyes darting up at his, “this is the part where you lecture me about my reckless behaviour? Maybe ground me? Take away my free-range privileges?”
His lips twitched—barely. Then he leaned down, voice gravel and silk. “You think this is punishment?”
Oh.
OH.
Before my brain could trip over another nervous quip, his mouth was on mine.
It was nothing like the throne room kiss. That had been feral, possessive. This was slower, heavier, like he was rediscovering what it meant to taste me without an audience, without rage snapping at the edges.
His tongue teased my lips, patient but insistent, until I opened for him. The heat stole my breath, pulled a soft sound from my throat I didn’t mean to make.
Lucian growled low, the sound vibrating into me, and pressed me back against the carved stone wall.
I gasped, my hands flying up to grip his shoulders. His body was still too hot, muscles tight, power restrained but straining.
“Lucian—”
He silenced me with another kiss, harder this time, teeth grazing just enough to remind me: wolf. Tyrant. Dangerous.
And yet, every press of his mouth said something else entirely. Mine. Mine. Mine.
Hand slid over my hip, slow, careful, deliberate—like he was tracing every inch of me but forcing himself not to break skin.
The humour in me fizzled. My mind, usually a chaos of bad jokes and escape plans, went quiet. My body answered for me, arching, trembling, heat rushing low in my belly.
His hand splayed at my thigh, and the skirt of my dress shifted. My pulse thundered so loud it might’ve been heard in the next kingdom.
“Lucian,” I whispered, but this time it wasn’t a protest. It was a plea.
His forehead rested against mine for one long, shuddering breath. His eyes searched mine, silver blazing like twin fires. “Tell me no,” he rasped, voice shredded raw. “Tell me no, and I stop.”
God. The tyrant was begging for permission.
And instead of “no,” my lips shaped the only word I had left.
“Yes.”
That was all it took.
The restraint snapped.
His mouth claimed mine again, feverish. His hand slid higher, and the world blurred into sensation: heat, pressure, friction. My gasp broke the kiss, head tilting back against the wall as his lips trailed down my jaw, to my throat.
Sharp teeth grazed skin—just a warning, a promise—and I shivered so hard I thought my knees might give.
“Mine,” he growled against my pulse.
“Yes,” I breathed, dizzy, undone. “Yours.”
The words sealed something between us, heavier than any chain, sharper than any blade.
And when his fangs broke the skin—just one drop, hot and burning—I didn’t flinch.
I arched.
Pleasure and pain twined, my breath catching as his hand gripped tighter, grounding me in the storm.
The world outside the chamber vanished. The tyrant. The throne. Even Cerberus’s corpse cooling in the woods.
There was only this: the alpha mouth on my throat, the heat between us building like wildfire, and the terrifying, beautiful truth that I didn’t want to escape anymore.
His fangs grazed my skin, and when they sank in—just shallow enough to draw a single drop—I swore the world shifted. My legs trembled so badly he had to lift me, carrying me across the chamber with the same terrifying ease he carried earlier.
He laid me down on the massive bed, its dark sheets cool against my flushed skin. I half expected shackles, chains, something tyrant-themed. Instead, it was just… him. Towering above me, cloak discarded, silver eyes molten.
“You’re trembling,” he murmured.
“Yeah, well,” I panted, trying for humour, “being nibbled like a midnight snack will do that to a girl.”
The corner of his mouth curved, wolfish and dark. “A snack?” His hand ghosted over my thigh, careful not to tear fabric. “No. A feast.”
Oh, hell.
Heat rushed through me, and my joke shriveled into silence as his lips found mine again—harder, hungrier. The kiss devoured, demanded, but still gave me space to breathe, to want.
His hand slid higher, parting fabric like it offended him. The rasp of his claws against silk was indecently loud in the chamber, shredding what little modesty I had left.
“Lucian—” My voice cracked between plea and warning.
“Say it,” he growled, forehead pressing to mine. His breath was ragged, his restraint a fragile thread. “Tell me what you want.”
“I…” My brain short-circuited. Jokes failed me. My body spoke louder than words, arching into his touch, thighs parting in silent confession.
His answering growl was pure triumph and something more dangerous—reverence.
The clothes were gone before I could blink, stripped by claws and urgency. The cool air kissed my bare skin, but his heat consumed me a second later.
When he touched me properly—broad hand sliding lower, teasing, testing—I gasped so hard it hurt. Then to my surprise he drank in the sound, licking my labia, teasing it with his tongue. While his other hand traveled up to my lips urging me to suck. Without second thought, I did.
And for the love of all, in my entire life I never imagined myself sucking someone's finger this obscene.
Lucian Drevane's finger was big, I could barely suck his two fingers. My saliva dripped to my chin and I arched, eyes falling shut as the sensation consumed me. With his tongue exploring my house, like a house tour by Sabrina Carpenter not minding stepping in first and second floor— moving forward to third. F—ck! I know he’s a pro.
“You’re mine,” he whispered again, but softer this time. Not a command. A vow. His breathing between my legs sends arousing shivers down my spine. When he removed his finger on my lips my instincts tried to follow it.
I want more!
But I didn’t argue. Couldn’t. My voice was gone, replaced by broken breaths and soft cries as he explored me with maddening patience, coaxing, unraveling. With my two eyes I could see his light saber.
Holy moly! Would that redwood fit me? That was 9 inches or 10? No, that's more like an effing ruler!
At that moment, I didn't feel fear, instead I was excited. I want him inside me. I want it to explore me. I was freaking excited! Like a teenage girl reading immodest books at 3 am in the morning.
And then—when I thought I’d burn alive from the wanting—he finally pressed forward.
The stretch, the heat, the sheer size of him stole every coherent thought. My nails dug into his back, half in desperation, half in grounding.
D—mn it! I forgot to confess. I’m actually a virgin.
“You—” I didn't make him finish his word.
“Y-Yeah I was—s-so shut up and ease the pain, you tyrant.”
With my remark I heard him chuckling.
This son of a b—tch!
The pain was unbearable. Like a girl who was hit by a truck at midnight. At that moment, at the back of my mind I was praying they have a hospital here, I might need a laceration after this.
“Look at me,” he demanded, voice hoarse.
I did. And nearly drowned. His silver gaze locked on mine, fierce and unyielding, as if daring me to look away from the raw truth between us: this wasn’t just lust. It was surrender. On both sides.
Each movement was a storm—slow at first, building, then harder, faster, until rhythm broke into chaos and pain eased. The bed creaked. My breath turned to pleas, his to growls. The chamber itself seemed to hold its breath.
“Ohh… more.. ooh Lucian—more..”
“Uhh..”
He kissed me through it—messy, searing, desperate. His fangs grazed my lip, drawing another drop, and I swore I shattered. My cry was muffled in his mouth, his name tumbling from my tongue like prayer.
And still, he held me like I was breakable. Like every thrust was a war he wanted me to win, too.
When release finally tore through me, it was blinding—heat, light, drowning. He followed with a roar against my throat, body shuddering, marking me deeper with teeth and devotion.
Silence fell heavy after, broken only by our ragged breathing. My body shook, spent, but his arms wrapped me close, caging me in warmth.
I should’ve been terrified. I should’ve been plotting escape. Instead, I pressed my forehead to his chest and whispered the one truth I couldn’t hide anymore.
“I don’t want this to end.”
Lucian’s hand tightened at my back, his breath catching. For once, the tyrant king didn’t have an answer.