Betrayed and Claimed by the Lycan King Chapter 41

**Ezra's POV**

 

The moment I entered the Battle Arena, her scent hit me—chestnut, rain, and something uniquely feminine. Isolde sat beside Orion on one of the benches, her chestnut curls pulled back in a messy ponytail, a few strands escaping to frame her face.

 

"Alpha Ezra," Orion said, inclining his head. "You're here early today."

 

"As are you both," I replied, my tone purposefully cool. "Unusual to see the training center occupied at this hour."

 

Isolde stood, her blue eyes widening slightly as she met my gaze. "Good morning, Alpha." Her voice carried that slight huskiness I found inexplicably appealing.

 

I nodded in acknowledgment, noticing the way her Silver Moon training gear hugged the curves of her body. The sight stirred something primal within me, and I quickly averted my gaze.

 

"I'll prepare the equipment for today's session," Orion offered, backing away with practiced efficiency.

 

Left momentarily alone with Isolde, I found myself uncharacteristically at a loss for words. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable under my gaze.

 

"Did you sleep well?" The question escaped my lips before I could stop it.

 

Surprise flickered across her features. "Yes, thank you." A pause. "And you?"

 

"Well enough."

 

Other fighters began trickling in, rescuing us from further awkward conversation. I retreated to my usual position at the edge of the training floor, ostensibly reviewing the day's training schedule on my tablet.

 

In reality, my eyes repeatedly drifted to Isolde as she began her warm-up with the other warriors.

 

As she lowered into a deep squat, her ass pushed out, the fabric of her training pants clinging to every curve. Her training pants hugged her ass so tightly that I could see the cleft between her cheeks.

 

When she bent over, the fabric stretched, and I swear I could make out the shape of her pussy. My mouth watered at the thought of peeling those pants off and burying my tongue in her wet folds.

 

My cock hardened painfully in my own training pants, and I had to adjust myself discreetly. The scent of her arousal mixed with sweat was driving me insane. I wanted to pin her to the mat and fuck her right there, in front of everyone.

 

I shifted uncomfortably, forcing my attention back to the tablet. Yet within moments, my gaze returned to her like a compass finding north.

 

She paired with Nyssa for sparring practice, the two women circling each other on the mat. Normally, Isolde held her own against the trainer, occasionally even gaining the upper hand. Today, however, something was off. Her movements lacked their usual precision, her reactions a split second too slow.

 

Each time Nyssa took her down, Isolde's breasts bounced in her sports bra. It made my cock throb. I imagined ripping that bra off, sucking those stiff nipples into my mouth, feeling her squirm beneath me as I teased them with my teeth.

 

"Focus!" Nyssa called out, offering a hand to help Isolde up. "What's wrong with you today?"

 

"Sorry," Isolde mumbled.

 

As training progressed, I found myself magnetically drawn to observe her every move. The slight sheen of sweat highlighting her collarbones. The determined set of her jaw when attempting a difficult technique. The way her chest rose and fell with each breath, her tits straining against the fabric of her sports bra.

 

*Enough,* I chastised myself. *You're the Lycan King, not some hormone-driven adolescent.*

 

It was time for paired combat training and I called Isolde forward to demonstrate with m.

 

She approached cautiously, blue eyes flicking up to meet mine before dropping respectfully. "Alpha Ezra."

 

"Ready position," I instructed.

 

We circled each other, her movements guarded and hesitant.

 

When she finally attacked, I blocked easily, catching her wrist and using her momentum to spin her around.

 

Her back pressed against my chest, her ass pressed right against my cock, and I could feel the heat of her through our clothes. She must have felt how hard I was because she gasped and stiffened.

 

For a split second, I wanted to grind against her, to let her feel what she did to me, to bend her over and fuck her senseless right there on the mat, but I forced myself to step back.

 

I immediately released her, stepping back to put distance between us. Every warrior in the room had witnessed our awkward exchange, though none dared comment.

 

"Continue practicing the sequence," I commanded, not looking at anyone in particular. "I'll observe from the sidelines."

 

Before anyone could respond, I strode off the mat, grabbing my towel and tablet. "Security Director, you have command of the session. I have an urgent matter requiring my attention."

 

I didn't wait for Orion's acknowledgment, already heading for the exit with as much dignity as my raging hard-on allowed.

 

The truth was far more humiliating. For the first time in my adult life, I'd lost control of my body's reactions in public. Me—Ezra Silverwood, Alpha of Silver Moon Group, the Lycan King himself—brought to the edge by nothing more than the scent and proximity of a woman.

 

Not just any woman. Isolde.

 

Inside my penthouse, I stripped off my training gear, my cock springing free, hard and aching. I stepped into the shower, turning the temperature to cold. The icy spray did nothing to diminish the heat coursing through my veins or the persistent hardness between my legs.

 

Images of Isolde flashed through my mind—her lithe body moving through combat sequences, the soft curve of her lips when she smiled, the way her blue eyes darkened with desire when I touched her.

 

*This is pathetic,* I thought, leaning against the marble tile. I could have any woman in Silver Moon Group with a single word.

 

Yet the thought of any of them repulsed me now. The mere idea of touching another woman, smelling another woman's perfume, tasting another woman's skin—it felt like betrayal.

 

"Fuck," I muttered, wrapping my hand around my rigid length. If I couldn't have Isolde—and I couldn't, not yet, not until I determined how to handle this unwanted mate bond—then at least I could have this.

 

I gripped my cock tightly, stroking slowly as I imagined Isolde naked on my bed. Her legs were spread wide, her pussy glistening with arousal. "Please, Ezra," she begged, her voice husky. "I need you inside me." I crawled over her, my cock nudging against her entrance. 

 

My hand moved faster on my cock, the water making everything slippery. I braced one hand against the shower wall, my legs trembling as I neared my climax. In my mind, Isolde was coming undone beneath me, her pussy spasming around my cock, milking me. "Come inside me," she whispered, and that was it. I groaned loudly, my cum spurting out in thick ropes, splattering against the shower tiles.

 

I slumped against the wall, my cock still twitching, cum dripping down my hand. The water washed it away, but the ache in my chest remained. I wanted her—needed her—in a way I'd never needed anyone before. And that terrified me.