Page 32 of The Unwanted Mate of the Lycan Kings (Unwanted #1)

“Who told you I hate witches?” I realize my mistake instantly when I don’t answer he shakes his head.

“It was Malachi?” he asks and I chew my lip nervously not wanting Malachi to get in trouble.

“I don’t care, it’s not like it was a secret.”

Regan watches me for a moment before finally answering my question vaguely. “I hate witches for many reasons. None that concerns you,” he says coldly.

I press my lips in a line before returning to the breakfast laid out for us. Searching over the tray, I grab something that looks like bread but find it quite squishy and covered in some sticky substance.

“It’s a pancake,” Regan says with a smug smile.

“I knew that!” I snap, scooping it up. I fold the strange soft bread in half, and the gooey substance coating it drips from the end.

It only takes me a second to realize it is some sort of nectar, or maybe it’s honey.

Taking a bite of it, Honey coats my tongue along with something delicious that I have never tasted before.

I pull back to look at it, studying the sticky, amber-colored liquid.

“You are a terrible liar.” Regan laughs and leans forward, and I jerk my hand back.

He’s not stealing my new favorite food, pancakes!

He laughs harder when suddenly my hand is engulfed by a warm mouth and slippery tongue.

Startled, I drop the pancake and rip my hand free of Gnash’s mouth as he steals my food.

“Gnash!” I scold, and he tilts his head to the side, his front paws resting on the arm of my chair. “I was enjoying that!” I huff, and he slobbers it down and licks his lips like he is waiting for another pancake.

“Here, you can have mine,” Regan offers, grabbing the other plate and looks at Gnash.

“Down, boy, let her eat!” he scolds, and Gnash whines but rushes over to the bed and jumps up on it, making himself comfortable.

Chuckling, I turn my attention back to our breakfast when Regan sits the hot plate in my lap.

He then reaches for the napkin and unrolls it, revealing a knife and fork.

I did think it was odd that the servant expected a king to eat with his hands and fingers, but who was I to question it?

I pretty much inhale my foot, leaving nothing on my plate, though I regret it now. There were maybe ten huge pancakes, but they were too good to pass up, and far better than the flatbread we used to make in the caves.

Groaning, I lean back in my armchair, resting my head on the back of it, my belly aching. Bringing my hand up, I rub my stomach. “Ah, why did I eat so much?” I groan, and King Regan laughs. I lift my head to see him drinking the last of his coffee. He sets the mug on the tray and watches me.

After a few seconds, his staring and wandering eyes make me uncomfortable. I shiver from the icy breeze, or maybe it’s from his intense gaze holding mine. Yet when his lips tug in the corners and his eyes flicker, I glare at him.

“What is your problem? You’ve done nothing but stare at me,” I snap.

“Nothing, I’ve just been enjoying the view.” He laughs, and I scoff. “You hate humans, and you hate me,” I tell him, and he shrugs.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t have nice breasts.” He chuckles, and my brows furrow in confusion.

“Should have accepted the robe the first time I offered because I’m not sure if I want to give it to you now.” He laughs. “Though I’m sure I can be persuaded.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees.

“What are going on about?” I demand, and his eyes flash to my chest. As his lips part, I see the barest hint of his sharp canines that are usually hidden from sight.

“The front of your top is sheer, human,” he taunts, and I glance down, wondering what the heck he is talking about.

“No, it’s not. It is white and black.” I rack my brain for the color sheer , but I don’t remember hearing that one. Though I swear I’ve heard the word before, I just can’t remember the context.

King Regan laughs at the way my face pinches in confusion.

“Your top is see-through. I can see your breasts,” he states, and I gasp, looking down in panic, hoping the arms aren’t see-through as well.

My arms are well-hidden beneath the black fabric, but that’s when I notice my pinkish hard nipples poking out on my chest. I gasp, jumping to my feet and snatching the robe.

In one quick lunge, Regan seizes my wrist and drags me down into his lap, making me shriek in panic. He swings me around and positions me to face him with one knee on each side of his thighs.

“I’ve changed my mind. If you want the robe, I want something in return, since you spent all of breakfast taunting me,” he purrs next to my ear while gripping my hips. He rocks me against him, and I feel the massive bulge pressing between my legs.

I gasp and push on his shoulders. “The rules state you can’t fuck me.”

“That’s right. Not without your permission,” Regan clarifies, and I freeze.

“And you think I will give you permission?” I scoff, trying to climb off him. He grabs my ass, squeezing it and holding me in place.

My head turns in Gnash’s direction in a panic when I feel Regan’s breath sweep across my neck, making me freeze.

“Don’t look at him. Gnash won’t attack me, human.

He knows I have no intention of hurting you,” Regan mumbles against my skin, brushing his nose across my face to my ear while inhaling my scent. He groans, pulling me closer.

“Fuck, why do you smell so good to me?” He growls, pressing his face into the crook of my neck.

“You still can’t touch me below the waist!” I snap, gripping his hands on my ass and peeling his fingers back. He growls, letting me go and sitting back in his chair. I remain frozen like a deer caught in the lights.

“You have pants on,” Regan states, hooking his finger into the waistband.

He toys with it, tugging it away from my body and letting it snap back in place, then he looks away from me.

I reach for his robe, but he grabs it. I expect him to toss it away or not allow me to use it, but he flings it around me, draping it over my shoulders.

I rush to slip my arms into it, but when I try to clutch it closed, his hand moves, palming my breast. I peer down at his hand, and he squeezes it, then brushes his thumb over my hardened nipple through my shirt.

I grip his wrist, my hand trembling, knowing how easily he could kill me if I anger him.

He sighs, dropping his hand to my hip and leaning back, his eyes on my see-through top.

His actions mostly confuse me, but I’m also petrified.

For a man who can’t bear to be near me, he’s keeping me very close all of a sudden.

Biting my bottom lip, I move to climb off his lap, but his hand tightens on my hip, making me look at him. “Just remain there for a second. I promise I won’t touch you again, but if you move right now, I may attack you, my senses are going berserk.” He grits his teeth.

“Just let me regain control of myself,” he murmurs, closing his eyes and resting his head on the back of the chair. He swallows hard, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down before glancing at Gnash, who is now standing, watching Regan like he is about to attack him if he moves too quickly.

Awkwardly, I sit very still, mentally questioning why I’m complying at all. Especially after he just told me he is struggling to not harm me, yet I don’t want Gnash to attack him either.

When he opens his eyes and lifts his head, he watches me with a strange expression on his face. “You can hop off now if you want,” he mumbles the last part, looking over at Gnash, who sits back down.

“What do you mean?” I ask him without moving. His words only confusing me.

He looks up at me with an expression that wars with frustration and pain.

“You don’t fear me like most women, and your scent is almost intoxicating to me.

It’s even stronger than it was yesterday.

” I almost scoff at his words. If only he knew how much he actually scares me.

It’s not about not fearing them because I do, just not for the reasons they think.

I don’t fear death, but I fear the pain and torture they can inflict before I’m granted it.

“You hate me. I don’t very much like you either, but you don’t fear me, and those that don’t fear me have another agenda, except you. It’s refreshing,” he shrugs.

And he thinks I’m weird because I grew up in a cave and didn’t know what a pancake is? I blink, trying to figure out if I should move off his lap or remain.

“Well, you’re hardly a joy to be around, but I’m curious now. Is it your intention to make women fear you, or do people just fear you in general because of your lack of social skills and vile manners?”

He clenches his teeth and growls, the sound vibrating from his chest.

“They have reason to fear me. I am what they claim. Or I was? Now I’m a monster, but not by my own choosing,” he states.

“And what were you?” I ask.

“Cruel until I was cursed. Now the only women who come near me are either coerced, threatened, or looking for a way to—” he shakes his head, muttering under his breath.

“Looking for a way to what?”

“To get to my brothers. Women don’t want me. They never do. Being with me will earn them death, but my brothers?” he swallows and brushes his fingers through his hair, watching me.

“You just don’t want to be near me in general, but it isn’t because of my curse. I guess you can’t fear what you don’t know, but you will learn eventually, and then you’ll pick one of my brothers. Your objective will change.”

“My only desire is to be free of all of you. I never asked for this,” I tell him. “As for your lady issues, go to one of those places...the um.” I pause, trying to remember what they’re called. I had heard men that come to the caves speak of them when they found human settlements.

“A brothel?” Regan laughs, and I nod.