To Wed A King

The Need for Submission

Lucan threw his head back over the small section of the bath house. The servant bent over, washing his hair, careful not to touch him. Most times, he did specify if he wanted to be touched during his bath, but today, he was silent, his eyes closed, his fists lightly clenched.

She finished, then swallowed, unsure what to do next.

"Your Majesty... do I..." she trailed off as his fingers moved to gesture her to come around.

He had special servants for all of these sessions, and she was one of them. The most frequent, actually.

She used to be a princess from one of the smaller regions on the east of Vahrenhall. After being unable to pay the tax assigned to them for their security under Vahrenhall, the king had sent his first daughter, who was more than ready to come to Lucan. She had forever wanted to be his woman, even if she knew she was nothing more than just another w***e to him.

She ran her fingers lightly over the buttons of her plain dress, then peeled it off and let the dress fall over her shoulder.

She was still looking at his back, his luscious wet hair. She yearned to really touch him, but he never liked it. He did the touching. When he liked, how he liked it.

She walked forward, then sat on the edge of the bath.

"Your Majesty," she said in a low voice, her chest lightly heaving.

She really hoped she would see a tinge of approval in his eyes. Or at least, desire. There was none every time she had graced his bed, and even when she had paid the other women out of her salary so she could use their turns with him.

Ironically, every one of those women did love being with him, despite the knowledge of the fact that they meant nothing. All of them were fallen princesses, but the dignity of that royalty did not quite matter in the face of Lucan's majestic allure.

His eyes slowly opened, and he took her in, his eyes having the same dead look. He moved slowly, then pulled her by her hair into the bath with him. Her hands wrapped around his neck, her eyes closing, her chest heaving with anticipation.

He watched her for a long time and slowly leaned, his lips lightly teasing hers. Her chest heaved, and she swallowed, her body so submissive.

"I did not ask you to go naked. Change the water and hand me my robe."

Her eyes opened, and she immediately nodded and started to move. Lucan did not let her go, however, his fingers laced tightly in her hair.

He pulled her to him, kissing her lips hard. She gave a gasp of pain and pleasure, her eyes immediately closing, her chest heaving.

His eyes remained open, however, squinted as he thought of Adeline.

"Your Majesty," the woman under him gasped, her chest heaving, the pain slowly outweighing the pleasure.

How dare she? How dare she not only refuse him but run away, too? How dare she even do something like that?

His nails pressed down into the hair of the woman, his kisses becoming even more aggressive. He would find her. Even if it took an entire army, he would find her.

His eyes closed as the memory of her falling back unto the sand as he tackled her, her golden tresses, her endowed body...

He suddenly let go of the woman, pushing her out of the bath, his lips parting.

The maid, Claude, fell to the floor, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath, her hand coming to her chest. There was a small nip on her lip, and she touched it, a small smile lifting her lips.

"I will change the water, Your Majesty."

He shook his head. "Get out."

She nodded again, then slowly walked away, a bit disappointed. Lucan lay back in the bath, his eyes closed, his chest lightly heaving with anger. He had spent an hour in this bath, yet Angel had not brought any news of Adeline. Did this mean she had not been found? His name would not be Lucan if he let one princess bruise his ego like that.

He grabbed his robe and got out of the water, then wrapped it around his body and headed straight for his chamber. A servant was waiting to help him dress, and he watched his own reflection in the mirror as his full regalia settled on his shoulders.

"Your Majesty."

His gaze moved to Angel, who was standing by the door, his hand behind him.

"Have you found her?"

"No, Your Highness. But we have men combing Perla and all the nearby bushes. The man whom she had stabbed said she was wearing men's clothes and..."

"Enough," Lucan said, his eyes thinning. "Send my letter to the King of Perla and withdraw my soldiers. Let it be spread that I shall be going home without her."

"Yes, Your Highness. But do you think this will work? What if..."

"She is still in Perla. Where is the former Duke of Corvalon?"

Angel turned to the door, and Evander was brought in, his hands tied securely behind him, his eyes closed.

"Tie him up and put him on display in the largest square. I will wait two hours. If there is still no news, I shall come and head the execution myself."

"An execution, Your Majesty?"

Lucan gave a small smile. "It shall not happen. Hire a few danders to entertain me, too. Buy all of the foods from the market and have them for free at the grounds. Let everyone come and watch me. Adeline shall not emerge victorious over me."

Angel nodded, then turned, but he stopped and turned back. "Your Majesty, if I may ask... what makes her so special? You have so many women who would give..."

"I want Adeline," he snapped, his voice a low growl. "I want that fiery little wench. I want to see her submission. I need to see her submission. If she goes low, I shall go even lower. Until she submits."

Angel swallowed and nodded, then walked away. At this point, however, he could almost see who would win, and it was not favouring his master.