The Lycan King and his Dark Temptation novel Chapter 200

200. WHO ARE YOU?

SIGRID

Silas tensed the moment I got close, his breathing growing heavier, and I could hear the rapid hammering of his heart against my chest.

He remained rigid in my grasp as I wrapped my arms around his back, my face burying itself in his neck.

His hair tickled my nose, and that delicious citrus scent clung to his skin—like a tree heavy with ripe oranges.

For some reason, I suddenly craved a juicy orange.

"Just a few seconds. We’re only pretending, Silas," I whispered, slightly worried,

“Mmm, more... kiss me more..." My embarrassing moans echoed in the silence of the street.

Goddess, I was so grateful for the darkness—I was embarrassing myself.

"Mmm, touch me more there... faster..." I moaned against his neck.

Any second now, I expected Silas to shove me away, maybe even, choke me, but he just stood there, still, tense, enduring my grasp and my ridiculous wailing right in his ear.

Curious footsteps approached.

I spoIted some metal trash bins nearby and kicked them over, making a loud racket as I played the part of a woman being groped ina dark alley—when in reality, I was the one taking advantage of poor Silas.

Before they could step in and realize what a terrible actress I was, I took my next step.

"You stupid slave! How dare you bite me?!"

I shoved him away abruptly, grabbing my neck in mock outrage. 1 raised my hand as if to strike him, but my eyes flicked toward the shadow blocking the alley entrance.

"WhaI's going on here?"

"Who are you people?! Were you spying on us?!" I cut him off, stepping back and pulling my hood tighter, feigning nervousness

Silas melted further into the darkness.

“My apologies, my lady," another man appeared —all of them were sorcerers... and a vampire.

"Danger? Is that what they call voyeurism now? Did you enjoy listening to me moan, you perverted bastard?!"

I threw a spell at them, enraged, forcing them to leap back and blockit.

If, after all this commotion, my great-uncle didn’t react, then he was either stupid... or deaf.

I stepped into the open street, summoning a magical whip and lashing out wildly, buying myself time as they scrambled to dodge my aItacks, spuItering apologies.

‘This wasn’t unusual—witches were notorious for being volatile, crazy bitches.

"Please, your ladyship, calm down! We are soldiers of the Royal

Family! Please, stop!"

At the mention of Royal Family, I did what any sane person would

—I stopped whipping them.

They showed me a golden insignia—the real one

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