Lycan - Chapter 5 (M)

Rip. A sharp sound tore through the air as the nightgown split apart on both sides.

As her pale chest suddenly spilled free, Lycan’s gaze darkened ominously.

The woman, her face blank with confusion, looked up at him as if she couldn’t comprehend what was happening to her.

Worried she might act out again, he grabbed both of her wrists, pinning them above her shoulders. Her long, wavy hair cascaded around her, and the body visible through the now-tattered nightgown was even whiter and more beautiful than he had imagined.

With his rough, calloused hands, he began to touch her body.

Damn it. Too soft.

Lycan grit his teeth. He had to suppress the groan rising in his throat as he gazed at her dazzlingly bare body. The sight of the small, stiff peaks atop her full breasts sent a rush of heat downward, and his restraint reached its limit. He could no longer hold back, and as he lowered his head—

“Just stab me with your sword instead.”

His lips were just about to touch her chest when Lycan froze. Slowly, he raised his eyes to meet hers.

Those eyes were no longer filled with fear. They were numb, as though the person had given up on everything, but there was a resolute light in them as she spoke.

“I’d rather be stabbed with a sword and die instantly than be crushed to death in agony.”

He couldn’t understand what she was saying. She jerked her head to the side as if the mere thought was horrifying, then muttered,

“Please, at least let me choose how I die. Someone as large as you wouldn’t have any trouble crushing someone as small as me. But this is a soft bed. It’ll take time to crush me until my insides burst. I… I can’t endure that kind of drawn-out pain.”

After finishing her words, she shut her eyes tightly.

Lycan, who had been silently watching her face, quietly asked,

“So, what you’re saying is… you think I’m going to crush you to death right now?”

She snapped her eyes open and glared at him.

“That’s what you’re going to do, isn’t it? The reason you’re on top of me… it’s because you’re planning to kill me. I… any moment now, my body will burst, and I’ll die horribly.”

Lycan was stunned.

This woman, what on earth…

Ha. Ha-ha. Hahaha.

Callie could feel the man bury his forehead in the crook of her neck and shoulder, his body shaking.

There was a strange sound—creak, creak—escaping him.

Was he laughing? In this situation?

Had he gone mad? Or was this some kind of ritual he performed before killing someone?

Callie had no choice but to endure it—the sound, the vibrations of his body as he lay over her.

Finally, the man lifted his head. His eyes, not yet completely free of amusement, gazed down at her.

The smile transformed his face.

The harsh, cold visage of the black wolf softened… morphing into an unbelievably handsome man.

Thick, dark eyebrows, long almond-shaped eyes, a high, sharp nose, and full yet thin lips.

The sharp angles of his jawline exuded both ferocity and an air of lazy elegance.

His broad shoulders, so massive they couldn’t be taken in at once, loomed over her, while the muscular arm standing like a pillar beside her face only added to the intimidating picture.

Everything about him was overwhelming.

From up close, the man’s face looked… like it had been sculpted to perfection by the hands of a god.

And his eyes—black as the deepest midnight sky. Just like his hair.

He stared into her eyes for a moment, then suddenly reached out and stroked her cheek with his hand.

“Katta. You’ve never been taught, have you?”

He’s calling me a cat.

Callie struggled to regain her composure.

He said I’ve never been taught?

Those words pricked her pride. While she hadn’t been the most obedient or diligent during her time at the convent, she had learned everything she could.

“I’ve learned enough…” she began.

“You’ve never been taught about this,” he interrupted. “Or perhaps… you’ve been taught wrong.”

What is he talking about? What ‘this’…?

The man leaned closer. She tried to turn her head away in alarm, but his large hand gripped her face firmly.

“Look at me.”

“Please…”

“You’re not going to die. At least not tonight.”

Before she could even ask if he was serious, he leaned in. Their lips collided.

As his hand tightened on her face, her lips parted involuntarily.

In that instant, something warm, soft, and alive forcefully pushed its way into her mouth.

She gasped, but before she could draw in a proper breath, that warm, muscular thing—his tongue—began to move with a smooth, deliberate rhythm.

Her head was held so firmly that she couldn’t turn away. She couldn’t breathe. And the sensation was… damn it. Too strange to comprehend.

Callie gripped his arm instinctively.

But the moment her fingers touched his solid, burning-hot muscles, she was so startled by the firmness that she quickly let go.

And then, as his tongue delved even deeper into her mouth, her hands shot back to clutch his thick arms without realizing it.

Is this how he’s going to kill me?

Just as the thought crossed her mind—that she might actually suffocate to death—he pulled his lips away.

Callie gasped for air, her breaths coming out ragged. But before she could even fully catch her breath, his lips began to descend.

The moment they touched the nape of her neck, a terrifying thought struck her:

He might bite me.

But… oh, damn it. The man was licking her neck.

His tongue dragged over her skin in a long stroke, then he grazed her with his teeth, biting lightly before sucking hard with his lips.

When his large hand squeezed her chest, Callie was overtaken by a strange, intoxicating sensation.

A fiery heat bloomed in her belly, and she felt a damp warmth spreading along the insides of her thighs. Her legs tensed, her toes curling involuntarily.

The man lifted his head.

Breathing heavily, Callie looked up at him.

Propped up on his elbow, he gazed down at her. His eyes…

They were sharp, dark, and impossibly deep.

He lowered his head again.

Callie’s eyes widened in shock as the man’s lips latched onto her chest, taking a generous mouthful and sucking with force.

His hand, which had been caressing her slender waist and flat stomach, began to move downward.

She tried to resist, tightening her thighs to hold him back, but it was useless. With unnerving ease, he pried her legs apart, and his hand plunged deep into her most intimate place in a single motion.

“Ah!”

Shocked beyond words, she flailed, trying to push him away. He didn’t budge.

She struck him with her fists.

For a moment, he lifted his head, only to immediately cover her lips with his own.

As his hand pushed further into the already damp cleft inside her, Callie let out a scream—only for the sound to be swallowed uselessly into his mouth.

This is strange… so strange.

Callie twisted her body. She no longer screamed, but strange moans kept escaping her lips.

He licked the curve of her ear, and despite flinching and her shoulders tensing, she didn’t dislike it.

No, she couldn’t even think—she was completely overwhelmed by the sensations from his hand moving below.

“Just… feel it,” he murmured softly.

His whisper sounded distant, like it came from a haze. Callie clung to his shoulders, sobbing, her hips writhing involuntarily.

“Stop… stooop…”

Her breathing grew more erratic. The hard contours of his body pressing against her skin, the heat radiating from him—it was all too much.

Everything felt like it was driving her into a corner with no way out.

She had never heard of dying like this. The unfamiliar sensation was both unsettling and strangely enticing, a contradiction she couldn’t comprehend.

By the time he finally pulled away from her body, she felt a strange sense of loss, as if something vital had been taken from her.

Haa… haa…

Breathing heavily, she looked up at him. He straightened, then casually untied his laces and pushed his pants down in one swift motion.

Her eyes widened in shock.

A distant memory surfaced—words she had overheard from women in the village:

“When a man’s… that… pierces our body, it feels like we’re going to die.”

At the time, she hadn’t understood what they meant and had dismissed it. But now… Pierces? Feels like dying?

Terror overtook her once again. Gripping the torn edge of her nightgown, Callie sat up and scrambled backward, her fear evident.

The corners of his mouth curled into a smirk.

Without hesitation, his massive body moved over hers in one powerful motion.

“No… no, don’t…”

“It’s too late. Katta.”

The man whispered quickly, grabbing one of her thighs and forcing it wide apart.

Then, he yanked away the remnants of her nightgown, the last scraps of fabric that barely clung to her body, rendering them completely useless.

And then—

“Ah!”

The massive thing she had seen moments earlier began to literally pierce through her body.

Terror consumed her. She struggled, trying to push him away, trying to escape.

“P-please… please spare me. No… aah! Hng—”

His lips covered hers again, swallowing her screams.

The massive thing began to burrow deep inside her, heavy and brutal, tearing through her flesh as it forced its way in. She wanted to push it out, to expel it, but there was nothing she could do.

Breathing heavily, he spat out a curse.

“Damn it… too tight.”

She couldn’t breathe. It hurt so much…

She couldn’t tell whose heat was whose or who was making the wounded-animal-like noises filling the room. Pinned under the weight of his body, she couldn’t move.

Then he began to move. The searing heat below felt like fire.

She clutched at the sheets, shaking her head violently as she begged, pleading for mercy, begging him not to kill her…

But there was no mercy to be found in the black wolf, Duke Lycan Warren.

He grabbed her chin, locking her lips with his to silence her cries. His hands gripped her hips tightly, holding her in place as he began to move his body savagely.

Her vision blurred with unbearable pain and tears. The candlelight flickered, and the world around her twisted and distorted.