The Lycan King's Affection

CAMILLE'S POV

Breathing shouldn’t be hard. But for some reason, it felt incredibly difficult. That should have been a dead ringer that something was wrong but I didn’t move a muscle until the harsh rays of the morning sun hit my face.

“Goddess,” Even my voice sounded groggy.

The weight and the pulsating ache in my temples was the first clue that this was no ordinary morning. Blinking against the blinding light, I found myself staring at a ceiling that I did not quite recognize.

The alcohol in my system had subsided so I could think clearly and I had lived in my parent’s home for more than twenty years. Drunk or not, I would recognize our home’s signature popcorn ceiling.

The ceiling I was staring at was smooth. It looked like white cement. It looked expensive.

When I tried to take a deep breath, I found it hard to take in air again and that was when I realized that the weight in my temples was not the wonderful afterglow of drinking.

I looked and a gasp escaped my mouth. I put my hand over it to muffle the sound. Explain to me how a completely naked stranger was sprawled on me, blissfully oblivious to my awakening.

Did I? I was panicking. I could practically hear my heart threaten to jump to my mouth. That stressed me out more. Because the complete stranger that had made my breast his pillow would totally hear my heart spiralling and wake up.

To make matters worse, I realized that the dark-haired stranger was not the only one who was in his birthday suit.

I looked around to see if I could make sense of what was happening. I could see clothes strewn across the room. My gown was on the floor, so close to the door that looked like it led outside and my pants were hooked to the door handle.

By some miracle, the stranger turned and rolled away from my body. I stood still and held my breath at that moment. I couldn’t have him wake up and make this moment any more awkward.

I knew what had happened. I wasn’t going to admit it. But I knew. The second I had the stranger off my body, I sprinted off the bed and attempted to gather my things.

I picked up my gown and untangled my panties from the door handle. That was when I noticed the key dangling from the door had a tag on it.

Room 56.

This was not an apartment or a studio. It was a hotel room. Somehow that made things better because if possible, I would love to avoid any interaction with the naked man behind me.

My bra was nowhere to be found so I made it my personal mission to find them. The walk of shame was unavoidable in this situation but to do them without a bra was out of the question.

I found my heels and with just enough luck, found my phone. It was on the dresser. When I tiptoed in its direction and proceeded to pick it up. I realized the condom on the dresser was unused.

Surely, he must have used a condom. Right?

I wish I had an answer to that. Because as much as I tried to remember the fragments that were at the back of my mind. All I really got were broken pieces of laughter, shared glances, and the hazy recollection of intimacy that lingered on my body like a ghostly perfume. But no matter how hard I tried, the details eluded me, slipping through my fingers like smoke.

The urgency to escape overshadowed any attempt to piece together the puzzle of the night before. Each clap of the floor beneath my careful steps echoed like a drumbeat of indiscretion.

I stole glances at the man in the bed, my heart pounding with regret. The first time I decided to get wasted was the same time I lost my virginity and to a stranger at that.

I stopped at the door and gave the dark-haired stranger one last look. His face was full and clean-shaven. He looked like he worked in the office and his body, most of what I could see at least made it clear that he took care of his body.

“At least, he’s cute.”

I dressed in silence. The moment I was done, I attempted to unlock the door but for some reason, the clicking of the opening lock sounded like a bullet in the middle of a business meeting. Then dark dark-haired stranger made a noise.

I froze at the sound of a barely audible snore. Panic seized me, urging me to quicken my pace.

I turned to his side for a brief second. He was not awake. He didn’t seem like he would even be awake for a while. When I was certain he was still asleep, I turned the key once more and the lock clicked open.

The world outside the room felt like a distant reality, and I clung to the hope that I could slip away without awakening the enigma beside me.

I stepped out of the room and shut the door behind me. Then I ran.

Wearing heels that clacked against the tiled hallway, I made a beeline for the elevator. The metallic doors slid open with a soft ding, and I stepped inside, my heart still pounding from the mad dash out of the room. The enclosed space offered a moment of respite, and I pressed the ground floor button, eager to put as much distance as possible between me and the half-naked stranger left behind.

As the elevator descended, my mind raced faster than the mechanical descent. I replayed the night's events in my head, attempting to extract some semblance of clarity from the foggy memories. A surge of anxiety coursed through me, fueled by the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

The lobby greeted me with a sterile hush as the elevator doors opened. Seven in the morning meant the world outside was still groggy, wrapped in the remnants of sleep. It was my saving grace – fewer prying eyes to witness my dishevelled state and hurried escape.

Out on the street, I hailed a cab, my gaze darting nervously around as if expecting familiar faces to materialize from the morning mist. The cab pulled up, a sanctuary on wheels that promised a getaway from the surreal situation I found myself in.

"Where to, miss?" the cab driver inquired.

I rattled off my address, the words leaving my lips almost instinctively.

The cab started moving, weaving through the quiet morning streets, and the rhythmic hum of the engine became a soothing backdrop to my chaotic thoughts.

Leaning back into the worn leather seat, I attempted to gather the scattered fragments of composure. The city passed by in a blur, similar to my clandestine night. I glanced at my reflection in the cab's window, the dishevelled hair and smudged mascara telling a tale I wasn't yet ready to comprehend.

The cab driver, perhaps sensing my unease, refrained from engaging in small talk. Silence enveloped the space, allowing me to confront the jumble of emotions without external intrusion. Questions swirled in my mind – who was he? What had possessed me to follow him into a hotel? And what awaited me at home? Mom would definitely kill me.

As we neared my destination, a knot tightened in my stomach.

It did not help matters that there was a black limousine parked outside my house like an ominous spectre. That was also the exact moment that I checked my phone. The do-not-disturb feature had been turned on. At least, I remembered doing that at the bar before I got wasted.

There were a hundred missed calls from both my mom and my dad. That was not even an exaggeration. There were literally a hundred mixed calls from them.

The cab slowed to a stop while I tried to conjure an excuse I would give to them for not coming home last night as I fumbled for cash to pay the fare, my hands betraying the tremor within. I might be an adult. But I was not really a free woman. Not while I lived under their roof.

With a quick thank you to the cab driver, I stepped out onto the familiar pavement, the weight of the night still clinging to my every step.

The cab rolled away, leaving me standing before the limousine. The first thing to catch my attention on the jet-black limousine was the plates. They were yellow, a deep contrast to the car itself and they were branded.

Flowers. Lily of the Valley to be precise.

To a man, that would just be a fun plate. But as an Omega, I knew. The plates meant it was the property of the Lily of the Valley pack.