Page 31 of Lycan King’s Claim (Lycan King’s Reign Duet #2)

G uilt gnaws at me after Sienna walks out on me. She has every right to hate me, I did exactly as she expected. Javier comes in moments later and I glance up at him. “Don't! I know. I'm an asshole,” I tell him, and he sighs heavily.

“She hates me,” I tell him, and that knowledge settles in my gut like a heavyweight.

“She loves you, but yes, she also hates you,” Javier tells me. I wait for him to lecture me, but when he doesn't, I watch him. “Wait, that's it? No Javier wisdom, no offering of a solution?” I ask him.

“I'm your Beta, not your counselor, though every so often I wonder if it's the same thing,” he chuckles.

“I'll add it to your job description,” I laugh, sitting back in my chair.

“As much as I want to hate Carina for calling off the wedding instead of me, I can't. We found out too much information,” I admit.

“Unfortunately, though now it looks to Sienna that she is the second choice,” Javier finishes my thoughts, and I nod my head in agreement.

“She'll come around. She is wary, and rightfully so, Xandros.

The last couple of months have been a roller-coaster, and you haven't exactly been a saint,” Javier walks closer, falling heavily into the chair and flicking through the channels before putting on The Lion King. I raise an eyebrow at him.

“Watch whatever you want; Sienna isn't here,” I tell him.

“I don't mind her movie selections as much as I complain about the shit she watches. Half the time I want to watch them too. She now just gives the excuse too, and this one is a classic,” he leans back, eyes glued to the television.

“Seriously? It's a kid's cartoon.” I remind him. He ignores me and moves to go shower when he stops me.

“I booked you and Sienna in at that restaurant you like. Make it a quick shower,” he tells me, and I stop.

“Counselor, cupid, guard, chauffeur, a man of many talents, you should give me a parish,” he tells me, and I laugh.

“Maybe I should,” he huffs, and I move to shower quickly, so I can go find Sienna.

Once showered, I come out to find Javier sitting on the couch still, pillow tucked against his chest. His eyes are all glassy. “Javier?” I worry; he is not a man of emotions. “Don't judge me, you heartless bastard.” I raise an eyebrow at him. “His papa died,” I stare at the TV.

“Is this what Sienna and you do all day, cry over cartoons?”

“No, she cries; I got something in my eye,” he tells me with a sniffle.

“I've watched you skin people and bury loved ones, and you don't shed a tear, but you cry over a talking lion?” I state, unraveling my towel so that I can get dressed. He ignores me, watching his show. Once dressed, I leave Javier with his emotions and look for Sienna.

I stand at the entrance of the castle kitchens, the warm aroma of roasting meats and simmering sauces filling the air. My chest tightens as I spot her across the room, her hair pulled back into a loose bun as she stirs a pot with a wooden spoon.

“Sienna,” I call out, my voice firm but gentle. She stiffens, her back going straight before she turns to face me; her eyes narrow slightly as they meet mine before she glances nervously at the other cooks. “Come here,” I wave her over.

“Can't you see I'm busy?” she snaps, trying to hide the hurt in her eyes. But I can feel it through our bond, like a sharp dagger piercing my heart. Rarely do I feel anything from her, but when I do get flickers, they usually make my stomach sink.

“Please,” I ask, taking a step forward. “Let me make things right.” A sigh escapes her lips as she sets down the wooden spoon, wiping her hands on her apron.

She would rather not come with me, however, she knows better than to make a scene, and she isn't one that likes to draw attention to herself.

Reluctantly, she follows me out, her footsteps echoing against the stone floor.

As we enter the hall, the chatter of the other staff fixing the table in the dining room fills my ears. Sienna's gaze darts around, settling on the faces of those who stare at us with curiosity. Leaning over, I shut the door, forcing her attention back to me.

“Go get dressed, I'm taking you out,” I tell her. She rolls her eyes.

“It's not a choice,” I tell her.

“It never is with you, is it?” She snaps before stomping past me. Sighing heavily, I turn to follow her. Watching as her small body sways as she angrily marches to the room like she believes she can escape me. Once we are back in her room, I find Javier gone, and she moves to her dresser.

“You're not wearing jeans. You should have dresses in the closet,” I tell her, moving toward it.

She had one on for the wedding. Walking in, I slide the coat hangers across, finding a blue silky one that will go nicely with her hair.

Walking out, she eyes the dress but says nothing when I lay out on the bed. “Where are you taking me?” She demands.

“To dinner,” she mutters something, but I ignore her, instead finding her some shoes. Once she is dressed, I grab her hand, leading her downstairs. “Where's Javier?” She asks nervously, and I know she doesn't want to be alone with me, which pains me to think about it.

“He has something in his eye,” I tell her, opening her door. She looks at me oddly before looking at the castle. “Sienna, please get in the car.” She chews her lip before ducking her head and sliding into the passenger seat.

Sienna glances around nervously once we are at the restaurant.

Jake, my usual waiter, escorts us to our table, and I feel Sienna step closer, her grip tightening in my hand, making me glance around at what has her so spooked.

Nothing seems out of the ordinary. This place is always packed, and reservations are near impossible for ordinary people.

Pulling her chair out, she glances at me.

“Can we go somewhere else? Everyone is staring,” she whispers.

“People always stare, Sienna. It's something you'll have to get used to eventually,” I tell her.

Glancing around, I can hear their whispered judgments, but I push them aside, focusing solely on her.

“Sit,” I say softly, pulling out a chair for her. She hesitates, then lowers herself into the seat, her fingers twisting the fabric of her dress. I hand her the menu, but she refuses to look at it, her attention consumed by the murmurs at nearby tables.

“Sienna, please,” I urge, my patience wearing thin. “Just try something.”

Her eyes finally met mine, cold and unyielding. “I would rather not be here, especially if everyone is just going to stare,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. I clench my jaw, frustration building, but I force myself to remain calm for her sake.

“Because it's not about them,” I reply, my voice low and steady. “It's about us.” With that, I order for her, choosing a dish I know she will enjoy since she won't even take a peek at the menu. When the food arrives, however, she merely pushes it around her plate, refusing to take a bite.

“Sienna, I'm trying here,” I say sternly, my hand tightening around my fork. “You can at least do the same.”

Sienna glances at me, then back over at the table of women that seem to be celebrating something. “I don't belong in your world.” My heart aches as Sienna whispers those words, her voice barely audible above the ding of china in the bustling restaurant.

I turn my attention to the table nearest us, the one she keeps glancing at with unease.

A group of women sits there, their eyes flitting between us and their wine glasses.

My ears strained, capturing the whisper of one woman to her friend.

“I heard the only reason he took her as his mate is because Carina left him.”

“Imagine being forced to marry the woman whose mother is responsible for killing a loved one,” another adds. The venom in her words is clear even through the hushed tone, and I know Sienna can hear them easily from where she sits.

My jaw clenches, rage simmering beneath the surface.

The shattered look on her face replays in my mind, shards piercing my heart as I watch her pick at her dress, trying to escape the reality surrounding her.

I want to shield her from their cruel words so badly, but I know it isn't that simple.

It is my past actions that have placed her in this position.

“Sienna,” I say softly, reaching across the table to take her hand. Her fingers tremble within my grasp, like the fragile wings of a butterfly caught in a storm.

“Ignore them. They don't matter.”

Her eyes meet mine, a storm of emotions swirling within their depths.

“How can I?” she asks, her voice thick with unshed tears.

“Everywhere we go, people will always talk.

They'll always judge me for who I am, for what my family has done. And for being second to Carina,” she whispers the last part, but I manage to catch her words.

I squeeze her hand gently. “Then let them talk. Let them judge. As long as you're by my side, they can't hurt you.”

“You are my mate, Sienna, and nothing will ever change that.”

For a moment, the walls she'd built around herself seem to crumble, revealing the vulnerability hidden within.

For someone who hates me, she definitely does care what people say about mine and her relationship.

She nods, her fingers curling around mine as if anchoring herself to me when she pulls her hand away abruptly, as if she were acting on instinct and not her own free will.

She grabs her fork, and I see her raging uncertainty as she casts a quick peek at me.