Chapter 31 Unexpected Call
Dahila’s POV
I had just finished bathing the children, my sleeves damp, the faint scent of lavender soap clinging to my skin. The maids had hovered nearby, ready to take over the moment I lifted a finger, but I waved them off like I always did. They never understood why I insisted on doing these things myself.
It wasn’t distrust.
It was comfort.
There was something grounding about small routines—tiny hands gripping my fingers, soft laughter echoing in tiled rooms, the way the triplets argued over whose towel was warmer. In a palace where everything felt oversized and overwhelming, those moments made me feel human.
Once they were dressed in clean clothes and tucked into their room, I stepped into the hallway, intending to steal a few moments of quiet air before the next duty found me.
That was when it hit me.
His cologne.
Deep. Earthy. Dangerous.
The kind of scent that didn’t ask permission before settling into your lungs.
Damnation—no.
For now, my salvation.
My body reacted before my mind could. I turned sharply and took the other route down the hall, my steps quick, silent. I almost made it.
“Dahila.”
My name slid off his tongue smoothly—too smoothly. Like it belonged there. Like it had always been his to say.
I halted.
I hated that I did.
“Are you ignoring me?” he asked, his voice closer now, closer than it had any right to be.
“Yes,” I said simply.
That only made him close the remaining space between us.
I could feel him behind me now, solid, commanding, a presence that altered the air itself. He hummed softly.
“Hmmm. I like that you’re always honest.”
I turned slowly, folding my arms across my chest. “I don’t have a reason to lie.”
His gaze dropped to meet mine, sharp and assessing, as though he were weighing every word I had ever spoken to him. “Then tell me,” he said, “why are you ignoring me?”
“Because you’re someone’s property,” I replied without hesitation.
That earned me a raised brow.
“Someone’s… property?”
“Yes.”
A pause.
“Care to explain before I start thinking you’ve finally lost your mind?”
“Remember the maid summoning you to the Luna?” I said coolly.
He chuckled, low and deep, but there was something restrained about it—something dangerously close to irritation. It wasn’t full laughter, just a thin line between amused and insulted.
“I am no one’s property, Dahila.”
The way he said my name—gods, the way he said it—like a claim and a question all at once. My heart betrayed me with a small, stupid skip.
“Summon me?” he continued, taking another step closer. “You seem to forget that I am the Lycan King.”
A sly smile curved his lips then, slow and deliberate. It was meant to intimidate me.
Instead, I tilted my chin.
“Yes,” I said lightly. “That was to spite you.”
His eyes flickered—surprise, then interest. I felt absurdly satisfied. I had wanted that reaction. I had chosen my words carefully, sharpened them just enough to draw blood.
Silence stretched between us, heavy but not uncomfortable.
Then he sighed and shifted gears like the king he was.
“I heard about the meal yesterday,” he said casually. “The maids said you made it.”
I nodded once.
“It was perfect.”
“Well,” I replied, emphasizing every word, “what did you expect? I made it.”
That finally earned me a real smile.
Not the sharp one.
Not the king’s mask.
This one was slow, appreciative—almost… warm.
“A sly, gorgeous smile,” I thought irritably. Completely unnecessary.
“This is not an order,” he said, and I stiffened at once, “but a plea.”
I blinked. “A what?”
“A plea.”
I arched a brow. “From the Lycan King?”
“I have very important guests arriving soon,” he continued. “And I would like you to bless their taste buds with your delicacy.”
I scoffed. “Why should I?”
“Because,” he said smoothly, “the Lycan King is pleading. And I never plead.”
I unfolded my arms, then deliberately folded them again, tilting my head in mock consideration. “That’s not enough.”
He studied me for a long moment. “What else can I do?” he asked.
It was the first time I’d ever heard uncertainty in his voice.
“This would be a thank-you,” I said, “for the birthday you threw for my triplets.”
Something shifted in his expression then. Not anger. Not arrogance.
Understanding.
Before he could reply, the sound of a throat clearing cut through the tension.
We both turned.
A palace guard stood a few steps away, pretending very badly not to have been listening.
“Your Majesty,” he said stiffly, bowing his head. “Apologies for the interruption, but your presence is required at the courtroom.”
“Courtroom?” he repeated, his eyes shifting briefly from me to the guard. “For what reason?”
“The elders are assembled with members of the council,” the guard replied. “It appears they have something urgent to discuss.”
His brow furrowed. “There was no meeting scheduled for today.”
“Exactly what I told them, my king,” the guard said carefully. “But they insist it is an emergency.”
Silence stretched for a heartbeat. I could almost see the calculations forming behind his eyes—the king weighing duty against everything else.
“Very well,” he said at last. “Go back and inform them I will join them shortly.”
The guard hesitated, then straightened. “Is that all, my king?”
“Yes,” he replied curtly.
The guard bowed once more and turned on his heel, disappearing down the corridor.
When the echo of his footsteps faded, the air shifted again—lighter, yet charged. He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair as if already bracing himself for whatever awaited him in that courtroom.
When we were alone again, he looked at me differently. Colder. More deliberate, he then returned to the conversation like there wasn’t any interruption.
“You could have asked,” he said quietly.
“And you could have offered,” I replied.
A pause.
“Deal,” he said finally.
I stared at him. “Deal?”
“I’ll have the kitchen cleared for you. No maids hovering. No interruptions. And,” he added, “I’ll personally thank you in front of my guests.”
I narrowed my eyes. “That last part feels unnecessary.”
“Humor me,” he said.
I hesitated, then nodded. “Fine.”
Relief flashed across his face before he could hide it.
“Dahila,” he said again, softer now.
“Yes?”
“For what it’s worth… the children were happy.”
I swallowed. “That’s all that mattered.”
As I turned to leave, I felt his gaze linger on me—not possessive, not commanding.
Just… present.
And for the first time since I arrived in this palace, I wondered if ignoring him would ever truly be possible again.