Stolen By The Lycan King

KIRA POV：

An unnatural, suffocating fever tore through my veins, setting my blood ablaze.My vision started to fade.

My palm slammed against the velvet wall of the VIP lounge, fighting to keep my balance as my knees buckled into useless cotton.

My trembling fingers reached for my phone, but another violent pulse of heat surged through my core, dropping me straight onto the plush carpet.

My inner wolf thrashed in my mind, howling in frantic confusion. This was not a natural cycle. This was a foreign, artificial storm forcefully tearing down my defenses.

The heavy lounge door clicked open.

The one coming to save me was finally here.

A tall, imposing silhouette filled the frame, cutting off the light from the corridor. Before I could see his face, his scent hit me—a wave of crisp cedar, frost, and ozone, cutting through the sweltering haze like a blizzard.

A broken whimper slipped past my lips. The sheer dominance radiating from him should have sent me running, yet every treacherous inch of my burning skin begged for his touch.

He knelt before me. A broad, calloused hand gripped my jaw, lifting my face.

The moment his skin brushed against mine, a current ripped down my spine, forcing an involuntary gasp from my throat. He let out a low, guttural growl, as if something wild had snapped inside his chest.

Before the last shred of my sanity dissolved, he scooped me into his arms and threw me onto the deep leather sofa.

He came down over me, his cold lips crashing against mine—not in a gentle kiss, but in a raw, commanding claim of ownership.

The friction was too intense, the fever too wild. Overwhelmed by the crushing power of his weight, I opened my lips and bit down hard on the corded muscle of his broad shoulder.

A sharp grunt vibrated against my collarbone.

"Ease up," he rasped, his large palms locking onto my waist with bruising force.

Knowing the sting of wolf teeth, I loosened my bite, panting against his neck.

Before I could breathe, a low, wicked chuckle brushed the shell of my ear.

"I was not talking about your teeth, sweetheart."

The words sank in, and a scorching wave of humiliation instantly set my cheeks on fire.

Beside the sofa, my discarded phone buzzed relentlessly against the carpet, the screen lighting up with a headline notification: Alpha Hayes Carlisle and Clarisa Knox spotted together at the Pack Gala.

Hayes Carlisle was my husband.

The name felt like ice down my spine. My entire body locked up, instantly turning rigid beneath him.

The sudden shift was undeniable.

The man paused, lazy hooded eyes glancing toward the glowing screen on the floor. His gaze swept over Hayes’s beaming face before settling back on me, a mocking smirk playing on his lips.

"Carlisle's heir... an acquaintance of yours?" he murmured, pressing a hot, deliberate kiss beneath my jaw.

The mention of Hayes made my stomach churn with disgust.

"Is prying into gossip part of your hourly rate?" I snapped, gasping as I tried to keep whatever dignity I had left.