Page 32 of Lycan King’s Claim (Lycan King’s Reign Duet #2)

Still, the women talk, and Sienna remains tense as she eats her entrée.

After a few minutes, I am on the verge of losing it; the clattering of silverware and glasses seems to fade into the background as I wave the waiter over.

My vision tunneling in on those women who dare to mock Sienna.

“Remove them, and anyone else that so much as whispers a word about my mate,” I growl, my aura slipping out menacingly.

Jake, the waiter, sensing the anger in my voice, rushes off to do as he is told.

The girls become outraged as they are told to leave, causing a scene that attracts the attention of the entire restaurant.

Security has to step in and escort them out, their protests echoing through the room.

I glance at Sienna, her mortified expression sending a jolt of regret through my chest. Her face turned red, embarrassment clear on her face.

“Sienna, don't be embarrassed. If you had an issue, you just had to say. You should have told me when you first heard them whispering. Now, will you please eat?” I ask her, the softness in my voice surprising even me.

I feel irrational anger simmering beneath the surface when she hesitates, not touching her food.

She wants to leave, to go hide in her damn room.

With a snarl, I stand up, my chair scraping loudly against the floor.

“Anyone so much looks in my mate's direction, breathes, or murmurs one word, I won't be as patient as I was with those ladies,” I warn, my voice low and threatening. A hush falls over the entire restaurant, the tension in the air palpable.

Even when the waiter, Jake, returns, he fumbles blindly with our plates, his hands trembling with fear.

“I wasn't talking about the staff, Jake,” I state, trying to ease the poor man's unease.

He lets out a shaky breath, setting Sienna's plate down in front of her.

As he does, he winks at her, earning a warning growl from me.

“I saw that,” I mutter, though a small smile tugs at the corners of my lips, knowing Jake is harmless and one of my favorite waiters here.

I survey the room, taking in the nervous glances cast our way, the whispered conversations that cease as they meet my gaze. I can't protect Sienna from every cruel word, but I can make damn sure no one dares to speak ill of her within earshot.

I watch as Jake turns on his heel and leaves us, the clatter of dishes and murmurs of conversation filling the void he left behind. Sienna hesitates for a moment longer before her shaking fingers finally close around her fork, bringing it to her lips.

As if sensing my gaze, Sienna glances up at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and wariness.

“What?” she asks, her voice soft but laced with caution.

I shake my head, offering her a small smile.

“Nothing,” I murmur, reaching for my utensils.

It wasn't a lie—it was nothing more than the simple pleasure of seeing her eating.

Once our entrées are finished, the door to the kitchen swings open once more, Jake returning with our main meals and wine.

He approaches our table with an air of apprehension, a bottle of wine cradled carefully in his arm, and he holds two plates.

He sets the plates down. As he moves to pour Sienna a glass, I catch a glimpse of her wide, panicked eyes darting between him and the bottle.

“No, thank you,” she waves him away, but I shake my head, reaching forward and plucking the bottle from Jake and pouring her glass.

“Xandros!” she hisses, her hand shooting out to cover the top of the glass as the liquid threatens to spill over the rim. “That's enough,” she squeaks, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of red that matches the wine in her glass. “I don't drink.”

By the time she has finished eating half her dinner, she has consumed half her glass of wine, the liquid casting a warm glow upon her cheeks. But as the minutes ticked by, I realized with a start that I hadn't touched my meal, so captivated had I been by the sight of her.

“Are you going to eat?” Sienna asked, her brow furrowing with concern as she eyed my untouched plate. Her question pulls me from my reverie, and I reached for my fork, suddenly aware of the gnawing hunger that had settled in the pit of my stomach.

“Of course,” I reply, attempting to sound nonchalant even as I curse myself for having allowed my thoughts to wander. As I begin to eat, I feel Sienna's eyes on me, her gaze heavy with unspoken questions.

When I have finished half my meal, I decide it is time to refill her glass. “Are you trying to get me wasted? I'm not even sure if I can stand right now,” Sienna whispers, her words laced with a hint of amusement that makes me chuckle.

“Then I'll carry you,” I tell her, trying to lighten the mood. She narrows her eyes at me, suspicion flickering behind her gaze like a wary animal.

“You're safe with me,” I assure her, holding her eye contact as her fingers drum nervously against the curve of her wine glass.

“Here I am. We're in public,” she says, her voice quiet but firm, as if she's trying to convince herself as much as me.

Guilt gnaws at my insides as I wonder if she's worried I'm getting her drunk so that I can take advantage of her.

The very thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

Yet, she accepts the glass anyway, taking another tentative sip as her eyes flit around the room, seeking comfort in the safety of this crowded space.

However, when she returns to eating, my attention is drawn to the door as a woman walks in; she glances in our direction and heads for the counter, only to stop and glance at Sienna.

Shaking her head, she speaks with the staff member behind the counter and moves to wait by the bar.

My attention keeps being drawn to a woman by the bar, her gaze locked onto Sienna with an intensity that sets alarm bells ringing in my head.

I glare at her – a silent warning – and she quickly looks away, feigning interest in the bottles lined up on the shelves behind the bartender.

But every so often, she turns back, her eyes returning to Sienna like a moth to a flame.

“Who is she?” I growl, my grip tightening on the stem of my wine glass as I watch the woman with growing unease.

“Who?” Sienna asks, craning her neck to follow my gaze.

“Her.” I nod towards the woman, who has now turned her back to us, chatting animatedly with a man beside her. “She keeps looking at you.”

“Maybe she recognizes me from before,” Sienna suggests as she tries to see who the woman is, but she has her back to us.

“Doesn't mean she gets to stare,” I mutter, my jaw clenched as I take a long sip of wine, the bitter liquid doing little to quell my rising irritation.

“Perhaps she's just curious like the rest of them,” she offers, her tone soothing. “As you said, we're bound to draw attention, especially now that the wedding was called off.”

I sigh, relenting under the soft pressure of her touch. “Fine,” I concede, taking another sip of my wine.

I try to shake off the unease that gnaws at my insides as I tell Sienna, “It's nothing, I'll have the waiter deal with her.” But before I can even finish my sentence, Sienna's eyes flicker over my shoulder and widen in surprise. She stands abruptly, causing her chair to scrape against the floor.

“Sienna?” I question, my voice laced with concern. Adrenaline rushes through my veins as I watch the young woman from the bar move toward our table with purpose. Instinctively, I rise from my seat, prepared to intercept her if she poses a threat.

But to my utter confusion, Sienna suddenly dashes towards the girl and throws herself into her arms. The two women embrace tightly, their faces alight with joy. “I thought it was you,” the woman exclaims, her voice thick with emotion.

“I thought I would never see you again,” Sienna replies, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. They pull apart, still gripping each other's arms as they continue to exchange excited words.

My mind races, trying to make sense of the scene unfolding before me. Clearly, these two know each other – but how?

“Toby said the king took you, and you were his servant or some crap. I thought he was lying at first,” the woman says, her eyes flicking over me disdainfully. Sienna glances back at me, her expression clouded with uncertainty. I raise an eyebrow at her, silently asking for an explanation.

“Ah, Tasha, this is Xandros. Xandros, Tasha,” Sienna introduced us, her voice hesitant. Tasha nods at me, but I can tell she doesn't like me just from the way her eyes narrow and her lips purse. Sienna sighs, and it's clear she wants to spend time with her friend.

“Ah,” I murmur, trying to conceal the sting of betrayal I feel at not knowing something so significant about Sienna's past, although I had heard her name before, I just figured they were friends from work.

I also believed she was a human. Like a heavy weight, the realization that there is so much I don't know about her settles on my chest, making it difficult to breathe.

“Nice to meet you,” Tasha says coolly, her eyes narrowing as she studies me. I can see the distrust in her gaze – the same distrust that Sienna had when we first met. Well, still has.

“Likewise,” I reply, forcing a tight smile. Despite the tension that crackles between us, I want to give Sienna this moment with her friend, even if it pains me to do so.

“Perhaps the table would be better than standing here,” I suggest. It's almost as if they don't hear me, but they move to the table and I retake my seat, becoming seemingly forgotten.

I watch as they continue to catch up, their voices hushed and secretive.

With each whispered word and shared memory, I feel the distance between Sienna and me grow, like a chasm threatening to swallow us whole.

With Tasha, Sienna seems more alive than I've ever seen her before.

Her laughter rings like music through the air, her smile casting a warm glow on everything around her.

And though I long to be the one to make her feel this way – to make her this happy and chase away the shadows that haunt her – I know that I cannot.

For I am not the hero to Sienna, but the villain. The one who tore her from her old life, bound her to a fate she never wanted, and shattered her heart into a thousand glittering pieces.

As the night wears on, I stand apart, watching Sienna and Tasha reconnect.

“Have you got a phone? I'll give you my number,” Tasha says, rummaging in her bag for a notepad and pen. Sienna's hands fidget behind her back as she speaks,

“I'm not… I don't have my phone anymore.” Tasha frowns, casting a glance at me.

“Well, wait, take mine,” Tasha insists, holding out her own device. “You remember work's number, right? I'll use the work cell.”

As I watch the exchange between the two women, I can't help but feel an ache inside, a crushing weight pressing on my chest. The laughter we share is nothing more than a hollow echo, a pale imitation of the genuine happiness that once filled her life.

My gaze lingers on the curve of her cheek, the delicate arch of her brow, and I wonder if there will ever come a day when she looks at me without fear or suspicion.

“But you won't have a phone,” Sienna argues gently, her eyes darting between Tasha and me. Her reluctance to accept the offered device speaks volumes at how much she fears angering me, she could have asked for mine to put her friend's number in; I can tell she wants to ask but holds back.

“Ah, I can use the work cell, no biggie. I bought the bar off Toby,” Tasha explains with a dismissive wave of her hand, trying to put Sienna at ease. She extends the phone once more, but Sienna's gaze flickers nervously in my direction, seeking approval or perhaps fearing repercussion.

I reach into my pocket, feeling the weight of unease settle upon me like a cloak as I unlock my own phone. “What's your number? I will get her phone on the way home,” I assure them both. Sienna's eyes widen slightly, and she chews her lip, caught off guard by my unexpected offer.

Tasha rattles off her number, and I type it in. As I press the buttons, I notice Sienna's lips moving silently, her eyes never leaving the screen, as if she's trying to memorize the digits in case I delete them later.

“See, all set,” I say softly, forcing a smile onto my face as I show Sienna the newly saved contact. “You two can catch up whenever you want.”

As we prepare to leave, I watch the exchange between Sienna and Tasha.

An invisible barrier separates me from their world, and I suddenly understand what it must be like for Sienna being trapped in mine.

She certainly isn't as carefree, unfiltered as she is when speaking with this woman, yet she is careful and wary of every word she utters back home.

“Are you ready to go?” I ask Sienna, my voice gentle as I offer her my hand. She hesitates for a heartbeat before placing her delicate fingers in mine, her touch like a caress as I lead her out of the restaurant.