I backed away from the blonde's advancing claws, my heart pounding against my chest. She was a ranked wolf, and I was powerless without my inner wolf. One swipe of those claws could tear my throat open.
"Guards!" I called out, my voice surprisingly steady despite my fear. The doors burst open immediately, as if they'd been waiting for my call.
Two massive Lycans entered, their expressions impassive as they took in the scene—three soaking wet, furious women and me, standing with the empty basin still in my hands.
"These ladies were just leaving," I said, setting down the basin with hands that only slightly trembled. "Please escort them out."
The blonde's jaw dropped in outrage. "You dare—"
"The King requested it," I added quickly, glancing toward Landon, who still stood by the window, watching the scene unfold with cold amusement.
At the mention of the King, the guards straightened. One stepped forward, his voice deep and authoritative. "Ladies, this way, please."
"This is ridiculous!" the blonde shrieked, her claws still extended. "I am Lady Cassandra of the Silver Lake pack. You cannot treat me this way!"
The guards exchanged a brief look, clearly uncomfortable but unwilling to disobey. "Lady Cassandra, please don't make this more difficult than it needs to be."
"Landon!" she appealed directly to the King now, her tone shifting from rage to wheedling. "Tell them this is a mistake. You don't really want us to leave, do you? Not for her." She spat the last word like venom.
The King finally turned from the window, his expression bored. "I believe I made myself clear the first time. Get out." The temperature in the room seemed to drop with the coldness of his voice.
The guards moved forward with newfound resolve. One took Lady Cassandra firmly by the upper arm while the other herded the other two women toward the door.
"You'll regret this!" Lady Cassandra twisted in the guard's grip to glare at me. "You think you're special? You're nothing! Just a scarred little plaything he'll discard by tomorrow!"
I kept my expression neutral, though her words stung. The truth was, I wasn't trying to take their place in the King's bed—the very thought made me shudder. I was simply trying to survive.
The guards successfully removed the women, their protests fading down the corridor. I stood awkwardly in the center of the room, awaiting further instructions, painfully aware of the King's gaze upon me.
"Clean up this mess," he said finally, gesturing to the puddles of water on the floor and the rumpled bed.
"Yes, Your Majesty." I grabbed some cloths from the bathing chamber and began mopping up the water, keeping my head down.
"You handled that well," he remarked after a moment.
I looked up in surprise. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
"Though I'm curious why you didn't simply tell them who you were."
I frowned in confusion. "Who I was?"
"My personal maid. It carries some weight, even among she-wolves like Lady Cassandra." He moved to the tray of food I'd brought and began eating, seemingly unconcerned by the earlier drama.
I resumed my cleaning, processing his words. I hadn't realized the position held any status. Based on the previous maids' fates, I'd assumed it was a death sentence, not a promotion.
"I'll remember that for next time," I said, wringing out a cloth over the basin.
He laughed, a short, rough sound. "Bold of you to assume there will be a next time."
I froze, fear clutching at my throat.
"Relax," he said, amusement coloring his tone. "If I were going to kill you, I'd have done it already."
Somehow, that wasn't as reassuring as he probably thought.
I finished cleaning the water and moved to the bed, stripping the rumpled, sweat-soaked sheets. The strong scents of multiple bodies and sex made my nose wrinkle involuntarily.
"Does it bother you?" the King asked, watching me over the rim of his cup. "The evidence of my night's activities?"
I kept my eyes on my task. "It's not my place to have opinions, Your Majesty."
"And yet you clearly do."
I hesitated, weighing my response. "I'm simply doing my job, sire."
He set down his cup with a sharp click. "Look at me when I speak to you."
I straightened, turning to face him, fighting the instinct to drop my gaze submissively.
He studied me with those penetrating gray eyes, his expression unreadable. "What's your name, maid?"
"Seraphina, Your Majesty."
"Seraphina," he repeated, as if testing the feel of it on his tongue. "A rather grand name for a servant."
"I wasn't always a servant," I replied before I could think better of it.
His eyebrows rose slightly. "No, I imagine not." He gestured to the bed. "Continue."
I returned to my task, bundling up the soiled sheets and replacing them with fresh ones from a large wooden chest against the wall. My movements were efficient, practiced—skills learned as the Luna of my former pack. Back then, I'd directed servants rather than being one, but I'd always believed in knowing how to do things myself.
When the bed was made, I gathered the dirty sheets and the basin of dirty water, preparing to leave.
"There are clean towels in the bathing chamber," the King instructed. "Prepare a bath for me. Not too hot."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
I set down my burdens and moved to the adjoining room, a luxurious bathing chamber with a massive stone tub sunk into the floor. Pipes—a marvel I'd never seen before—brought hot and cold water directly to the tub. I adjusted the taps, testing the temperature with my hand until it was comfortably warm but not scalding.
As steam began to rise from the filling tub, I added the scented oils left on a nearby shelf and laid out fresh towels. The room smelled of pine and something deeper, earthier—similar to the King's own scent.
I returned to the bedroom to inform him the bath was ready, only to find it empty. Frowning, I checked the antechamber, but he wasn't there either. Had he left? Should I continue with my other duties or wait for his return?
I decided to use the time to finish cleaning. I gathered the dirty sheets and basin and carried them to the door, intending to take them to the laundry. Just as I reached for the handle, the door swung open, nearly hitting me.
The King stood there, fresh from training by the look of him. A light sheen of sweat covered his skin, making the tattoos seem to move across his muscles. He'd changed into loose fighting leathers, the front unlaced to expose his chest.
"Your bath is ready, Your Majesty," I said, stepping back to allow him entry.
He nodded, moving past me into the room. I waited, unsure if I was dismissed or if he required further assistance.
"You can leave those," he said, gesturing to my burdens. "The other servants will collect them."
"Yes, sire." I set them down carefully by the door.
"Wait outside. I'll have further tasks for you after my bath."
I curtsied and left the room, closing the door behind me. The guards remained at their posts, staring straight ahead, ignoring my presence. I stood awkwardly in the corridor, wondering how long I'd be waiting.
After what felt like an eternity but was probably no more than twenty minutes, one of the guards cleared his throat. "He'll be a while. He always is. You can sit if you want." He gestured to a small bench against the wall that I hadn't noticed before.
"Thank you," I said, grateful for the small kindness. My legs ached from standing.
I sat, smoothing my apron over my knees. The guard who'd spoken gave me a curious glance.
"You're the new one, then?" he asked, his voice low. "The one with no wolf?"
News traveled fast in the castle, it seemed. "Yes," I admitted, seeing no point in denying it.
He nodded, his expression difficult to read. "Good luck. You'll need it."
His words sent a chill down my spine, but before I could ask what he meant, the door opened. The King stood there, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, water still dripping from his hair and down his chest.
"Come," he commanded, turning back into the room without waiting to see if I followed.
I rose quickly, catching the guards exchanging meaningful looks before I entered the King's chambers once more. The scent of clean pine and soap filled the air, underlaid with that distinctive male musk that was uniquely his.
The King moved to the center of the room, then turned to face me, one hand casually gripping the towel at his waist. "I need fresh clothes laid out. In the chest over there." He pointed to an ornate wooden chest near the bed.
I moved to it, lifting the heavy lid to find neatly folded garments inside. "What would you prefer, Your Majesty?" I asked, surveying the options.
"The black leather and the red silk shirt."
I located the items and laid them carefully on the bed, then turned back to find the King watching me with that same unnerving intensity. His gaze made me acutely aware of my scars, of my plain appearance next to the beauty of women like Lady Cassandra.
"Is there anything else you require, sire?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.
He didn't answer immediately, still studying me with those penetrating eyes. "You're different," he said finally. "Not like the others."
I wasn't sure if that was good or bad. "Different, Your Majesty?"
"You don't fear me the way they do." He took a step closer, and I fought the urge to back away. "You're cautious, yes. Respectful, certainly. But not terrified. Why is that, I wonder?"
The truth was too dangerous to share—that after what I'd endured at Vincent's hands, very little truly frightened me anymore. That death sometimes seemed like it might be a relief.
Instead, I said, "Perhaps I haven't had reason to fear you yet, Your Majesty."
He laughed, that same short, rough sound from before. "Oh, you have. You simply don't know it." Another step closer. "Do you know what happened to my last three personal maids?"
I swallowed. "I heard they died, sire."
"They did." His voice was casual, as if discussing the weather. "The first spoke out of turn, questioning my orders. The second attempted to steal from me. And the third—" he paused, his eyes darkening, "—the third tried to wake me from a nightmare. Not wise."
My mouth went dry. "I'll be more careful, Your Majesty."
"See that you are." He moved past me toward the bed where I'd laid out his clothes, and as he did, his arm brushed against mine—a brief, electric contact that sent a strange jolt through my body.
I stepped back, confused by my reaction, and in doing so, caught my foot on the edge of a rug. I stumbled backward, arms windmilling, and instinctively reached out to grab something to steady myself.
That something turned out to be the King's towel.
It came away in my hand as I fell ungracefully to my knees, leaving the Lycan King standing before me, completely naked.
Horror washed over me in a cold wave. I'd just disrobed the King—an offense that had probably gotten others killed. I kept my eyes fixed on the floor, the towel clutched in my trembling hands, waiting for the explosion of rage.
"I—I'm so sorry, Your Majesty," I gasped, holding the towel out blindly in his direction, still not daring to look up. "Please forgive me. It was an accident."
Silence stretched between us, heavy and ominous. Then, to my utter shock, he laughed—a genuine laugh this time, deep and rumbling.
"Get up, Seraphina," he said, amusement clear in his voice. "If you're to be my personal maid, you'll need to get used to seeing me naked."
Hesitantly, I raised my eyes, immediately regretting it as I was confronted with the full glory of the Lycan King's naked body. He was magnificent—every inch of him powerful muscle covered in those intricate tattoos that seemed to shift and move across his skin. And between his legs...
I quickly averted my gaze, heat flooding my cheeks.
"I said get up," he repeated, making no move to cover himself.
I rose shakily to my feet, keeping my eyes fixed on a point somewhere over his shoulder.
"Look at me," he commanded.
I forced myself to meet his gaze, pointedly avoiding looking lower.
The corner of his mouth quirked up in a half-smile. "Are you embarrassed, little maid?"
"No, Your Majesty." The lie was obvious.
"No?" He moved closer, still gloriously naked. "Then why are your cheeks so red?"
"I—" I swallowed hard. "It's warm in here, sire."
"Is it?" He reached out, catching my chin in his large hand, tilting my face up to his. "Or is it something else?"
His touch sent another strange jolt through me, more pronounced this time. What was happening? I'd never reacted this way to any man besides Vincent, and even then, it had been different—softer, warmer. This was... electric. Dangerous.
"I'm just embarrassed by my clumsiness, Your Majesty," I managed.
He studied me for a moment longer, then released me, seemingly satisfied with my answer. "Hand me the towel."
I passed it to him, relieved when he wrapped it around his waist once more.
"You may go," he said, turning away from me. "Return after the midday meal to clean the chambers. And Seraphina—" he glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes glinting dangerously, "—try not to pull my towel off again. Unless, of course, that's your intention."
I curtsied deeply, my cheeks burning anew. "Yes, Your Majesty. I mean, no, Your Majesty. I mean—"
"Go," he cut me off, though there was amusement in his tone rather than anger.
I fled, shutting the door behind me with perhaps more force than necessary. The guards were smirking now, clearly having heard at least part of what had transpired.
"Told you you'd need luck," one muttered as I hurried past.
My heart was still racing as I made my way back to the servants' quarters. What had just happened? Not only had I completely humiliated myself, but I'd also felt... something when the King touched me. Something that shouldn't be possible.
I'd lost my mate bond when Vincent betrayed me—I'd felt it snap, a physical pain almost as intense as the wounds he'd inflicted. Without my inner wolf, I shouldn't be able to form another. And yet, that jolt, that electric current...
No. It was nothing. Just fear and embarrassment and the natural reaction of a body that had been denied touch for too long. Nothing more.
I was in the middle of convincing myself of this when a voice called out from behind me.
"Excuse me! You dropped something."
I turned to find a tall, handsome man approaching, holding a small comb—the one Eleanor had given me, which must have fallen from my pocket during my hasty retreat.
"Oh, thank you," I said, reaching for it.
Our fingers brushed as he handed it to me, a brief, innocent contact. He smiled, kind brown eyes crinkling at the corners. "You're welcome. I'm Ronan, by the way. One of the Guardians."
I dipped into a curtsy. "Seraphina. I'm—"
"The King's new personal maid, I know." His smile turned sympathetic. "Word travels fast around here."
I tucked the comb safely back into my pocket. "So I'm learning."
"If you need anything, or if you have questions about the castle, feel free to ask me. The King can be... challenging to work for."
His kindness was unexpected, especially from a Guardian—one of the elite warriors who served as the King's personal guard and council. "Thank you, that's very kind."
He shrugged. "We all started somewhere, right? Even a Guardian like me was once new and confused." He glanced over my shoulder, his expression suddenly shifting. "I should go. Good luck, Seraphina."
Before I could respond, he had turned and walked away, his stride purposeful.
"Making friends already, I see."
I whirled around to find the King standing behind me, fully dressed now in the clothes I'd laid out for him. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—a cold, hard glint that hadn't been there before.
"Your Majesty, I—"
"I don't recall giving you permission to fraternize with my Guardians," he cut me off, his voice dangerously soft.
"We weren't fraternizing, sire. He was just returning something I dropped."
"Was he now?" The