Betrayed and Claimed by the Lycan King Chapter 61

Ezra's POV

"Red wine sounds perfect, Isolde." I leaned back against the plush leather sofa, my eyes tracking her with a hungry edge I could barely tame.

"Of course, Alpha." She dipped her head, a faint flush on her cheeks, before gliding toward the bar.

My gaze followed her, drinking in the way her body moved, each step a soft sway of her hips. That red sequined dress from the executive service night haunted me—its scandalous cut had hugged her curves, barely concealing the swell of her breasts and the tantalizing dip of her waist. Even in her simple outfit now, her natural allure set my blood ablaze, her form radiating a heat that made my pulse race.

Prime stirred within me, his growl low and possessive. *Our mate… here, in our den… alone.* My body tightened, a primal ache building low as I fought the urge to pull her to me. Isolde wasn’t like the others in the Moon Alliance Program, eager to trade their bodies for favor. She was my mate—my second chance at a fated bond. She deserved reverence, not raw conquest, no matter how fiercely I craved her.

At the bar, Isolde chose a bottle of vintage red wine, her delicate fingers curling around its neck as she uncorked it with quiet confidence. She poured the ruby liquid into a crystal glass, the scent of ripe berries and oak mingling with her own faint, intoxicating fragrance.

"Your wine, Alpha Ezra." She approached, holding out the glass, her blue eyes skittering away from mine, a shy tremor in her posture.

"Thank you." I took the glass, my fingers brushing hers, catching the slight shiver that ran through her. "What about you?"

Her lips parted, confusion flickering across her delicate face. "I… um…"

"Pour yourself one," I said, my voice low but firm.

She hesitated, a small crease forming between her brows. Then, with a nervous glance, she murmured, "Or… maybe I could strip for you while you sip? Grind on your lap, let you watch my body move—whatever gets you hard." Her voice was soft, uncertain, her cheeks blooming pink as she stumbled over the offer.

I nearly choked on my sip, heat surging through me at the thought of her body moving for me. Her blush deepened, betraying her inexperience, and that shy vulnerability stirred something deeper than lust—a need to protect, to claim, to cherish.

I drained the glass in one long swallow, the wine’s richness lingering as I set it aside. Stretching across the sofa, I let my eyes roam her form. "A massage," I decided. "Your hands on my shoulders, nice and slow."

Relief flashed in her eyes, quickly masked by a deferential nod. "As you wish, my King."

The title from her lips sent a shiver down my spine, stirring the beast within. I’d heard it countless times, but from her, it was a whispered promise, intimate and electric.

Isolde moved behind the sofa, her fingers tentative as they found my shoulders. Her touch was light at first, then firmer, kneading the taut muscles with surprising skill. A low groan escaped me, the sensation unraveling my restraint.

"Damn," I muttered, sinking into her touch.

"Does it feel good?" she asked, her voice soft, laced with a hint of pride.

"You have no idea, Isolde." I closed my eyes, her hands working a spell over my body, each press igniting sparks beneath my skin.

She leaned closer, her breath warm against my ear as she whispered, "Is there… anything else you’d like?"

My body reacted instantly, a tight ache in my groin I couldn’t hide. I caught her glance flicker downward, her cheeks flaming as she quickly looked away, her shyness only fueling my desire. I wanted her—badly—but I held back, clinging to control.

"Careful where your eyes wander," I teased, my voice rough but gentle. "I’m not asking you to suck my dick... yet"

Her blush deepened, her lips trembling. "You… you always say things like that?"

"Come here," I said, my tone leaving no room for refusal, yet softened by restraint.

She hesitated, then rounded the sofa. I patted my thigh, and after a fleeting pause, she lowered herself onto my lap, her warmth pressing against me. My arm encircled her slender waist, pulling her closer, her softness molding to my chest.

Her scent enveloped me—chestnut, rain, and a faint, feminine musk that made Prime growl with need. *She’s ours. Mark her.* Her heartbeat raced, audible to my enhanced senses, her body fitting perfectly against mine. She was mine, fated for me, every curve a temptation I barely resisted.

"You’ve pleased me tonight, Isolde," I murmured, my fingers tracing slow circles against her hip.

"I feel like I haven’t done enough," she whispered, her voice barely audible, her eyes downcast.

"Is that so?"

"Yes." Her breath hitched, her shyness palpable.

I tilted my head, studying the delicate line of her jaw, the soft fullness of her lips. "What would make you feel you’ve done enough?"

"I… I’m not sure," she admitted, her voice trembling.

My thumb brushed her cheek, gliding toward her lips. They parted slightly, her pupils dilating, her breath quickening. The urge to claim her, to sink my teeth into her neck, roared through me, but I forced it down, my control fraying.

"Isolde." My voice was hoarse, thick with want.

"Alpha Ezra." Her reply was a breathless whisper, her body leaning into me, instinctive and unguarded.

"What are you—"

"I’m taking you to bed," I said, my eyes locked on hers, burning with intent.

"Bed?" Her voice quavered, her wide eyes searching mine, a mix of innocence and curiosity that tested my resolve.

"You said you haven’t done enough." I held her gaze. "I want you to feel you’ve given me everything."

Before she could respond, I slid one arm around her waist, the other beneath her thighs, lifting her effortlessly. Her body was warm, pliant in my arms as I carried her to my king-sized bed.

I laid her on the black silk sheets, easing over her, my hips settling between her parted thighs. Bracing on my forearms, I hovered, drinking in her chestnut curls fanned across the pillow, her chest rising with shallow breaths.

"Do you know how hard it’s been to hold back since that red dress?" I asked, my voice low, a dangerous edge to it.

"No," she whispered, her breasts pressing against her blouse with each quick breath.

"You will."

I lowered myself, her soft curves yielding beneath me. When my lips claimed hers, it was like fire igniting—raw, electric, consuming. Her mouth was sweet, hesitant at first, then yielding, her tongue brushing mine with shy hunger. Prime sighed in my mind, *Finally, our mate.*

She was mine—her scent, her warmth, her trembling need. And I’d fight every instinct to keep her safe, cherished, until she was ready for all of me.