Lycan King's Regret: Punished The Wrong Daughter

Lucien Volkov:

"What is wrong with you lately?" Mother demanded while pacing in my office. She spared me this morning because of my Beta’s presence, but now she didn’t want to let it go, "You don’t execute workers like this, Lucien. Do you intend to rule this kingdom through fear?"

I didn’t look up from the report in my hand. Her lectures had started getting to my head.

"Are you even listening, Lucien?" She placed her hands on my desk, "The entire palace is whispering. As a king, you can’t kill random people."

Interesting. Before today, she never took it that seriously. She was a cruel woman and enjoyed inflicting pain on Omegas. And today she was teaching me not to kill random people.

I placed the report on the desk and rose to my feet. Her voice faltered as I walked around the desk and stood directly in front of her. Maybe because she knew my body language better than anyone else.

"Lucien..."

"Mother," I cut her off, my voice dangerously quiet, "Among two of us... who is the king?"

Her lips parted, but nothing came out of them.

"Tell me, mother," I said silkily, "I’m waiting."

"Y...you... you are..."

"Good," I nodded at her and held her gaze for a moment before stepping around and returning to my desk, "Then maybe stop questioning my decisions for once."

Her nostrils flared in annoyance, "You think I’m questioning your authority?" she scoffed, "I’m only trying to stop you from turning this palace into a graveyard."

A humorless smile touched my lips, "No," I leaned back in my chair, "You’re making it sound like it was a mass murder. Stop panicking, mother. He was just a field supervisor. Anyone can fill his position."

For the first time, she looked confused. Maybe looking for appropriate words to convince me.

"Mother. I’m the king here, and that man was killed for a reason. Stop exaggerating it, please, and go back to attend to your palace duties."

I had rarely gotten rude to her, but today it seemed to be inevitable. Most men feared the queen, but unfortunately for her, I was the man who wore the crown.

***

Bradley was halfway through another report when my attention drifted away.

"... and the Northern Ridge Pack had agreed to send additional warriors for the council meeting..." he continued.

I stared at the document in front of me without reading a single word. The thought of my room surfaced again.

Damn it!

"Can we go back to my room?" I interrupted Brad, and my request was met by silence.

"What?"

I finally looked up and saw confusion and concern on his face.

"I know we are discussing official business, but I ... just need to go to my room... this tiredness..."

"You’re tired?" My Beta didn’t look convinced. He wanted to say more but then wisely decided not to argue, "Alright." He nodded at me.

I was already on my feet. I didn’t care about reports anymore. Something was wrong with me. Her scent. Butter croissants and fresh lime. The maddening fragrance seemed to have soaked itself into my damn head.

For the first time after becoming King, I couldn’t focus on anything but her.

"Let’s go back. Just once," Urgh. My beast was no better, "Hey. We just want to make sure that she’s alright," Zorro was giving me petty excuses now.

I rubbed my hand over my face. This was becoming a problem, and I needed to find a solution soon, or it would take over my senses.

It needed to be brought under control or it would consume my every thought.

I quickened my pace while walking to my room and could sense Brad coming after me. He didn’t remark, but he was not a fool.

***

The moment I entered my room, I found Arabella kneeling beside one of my bookshelves. A book rested in her hands.

She looked up, startled, and then hurriedly placed the book aside. Her legs seemed to go numb from kneeling. She stumbled slightly before catching herself and lowered her head, "Your Highness."

For some reason, seeing her bow felt wrong. The sight immediately put me in a foul mood, irritating me more than it should have.

"Didn’t I tell you not to bow to me?" I snapped.

Her eyes widened as she glanced at me, as if unsure what I was trying to get at by asking such an absurd question. She decided to lower her gaze and remained silent.

Bradley entered behind me and immediately looked between us. The bastard was already smiling.

Ignoring him, I took my seat at the study table while he occupied the chair across from me. Arabella slowly moved to her corner near the bookshelf on her knees. For once, I wanted to go after her and get it through her thick skull that she was not required to kneel.

"And then what?" Zorro asked me with a sarcastic grin, "Then remind her of her place by insulting her?"

"Now," Bradley’s voice pulled me into reality, "As I was saying, the neighboring pack has agreed to ..."

I nodded absentmindedly. Because my attention had already drifted elsewhere. The smell of warm croissants wasn’t letting me think clearly.

Arabella was now busy reading the book. I straightened when Brad cleared his throat. I looked at him and found him staring directly at me. And then before I could stop him, he turned towards Arabella, "Arabella."

She immediately lowered the book, "Yes, sir?"

A sweet smile appeared on his face, "Why don’t you come and sit nearby? We might need your help with something!"

"Bradley!" I sent him a warning through the mindlink, but the fucking beta chose to ignore it. We needed her help with absolutely nothing.

The bastard was abusing his authority as my beta.

"Wh...what kind of help do you want?" she asked cautiously as she moved to us on her knees and I made a mental note to replace these damned carpets with new Iranian ones.

Brad cleared his throat, "Umm. I just needed to know... what is 856781 multiplied by 763451..." Mischief was dancing in his eyes when he asked the poor thing a math question.

However, none of us was ready for what happened next. Arabella said in a small voice without the slightest hesitation, "It’s 654,110,311,231."