The Lycan King's Puppet-Chapter 39: Drunk Woman

Yeren held the door open for her. Hesitating briefly, she walked into the room, moving directly to the jug of wine.

The guards closed the door behind him.

He quietly moved towards the cushion at the corner of the room and sank into it, pulling off his brocade.

A small sigh escaped him as he stretched to his full length on the chair.

It was the first time he was sitting down since morning.

Yeren unclasped the buttons of his brocade and slid the garment off his shoulders, preferring to remain in his shirt.

The sound of pouring liquid disrupted the silence. The candles had already been lit, casting a warm yellow-orange glow over the whole room.

Then the pouring stopped, leaving him in perfect silence.

He sat in the silence for a while, before he realized that it was too quiet.

Extremely quiet.

Yeren rose up from his crouch and looked towards the door.

Claire just stood beside the table, hugging herself like a little girl lost in a storm.

When she noticed he was looking at her, she stepped backwards into the shadows.

"Do you need wine?"

"Not wine...you!". He wanted to say.

"Bring it, then." He finally said, his voice devoid of any emotion.

She picked the goblet from the table and approached him.

Claire’s eyes were wide, and seemingly dilated, blank.

He took the goblet from her outstretched hands.

The metal was cool in his grasp, so was the velvety liquid that followed.

When he looked up from his drink, she was undoing the front laces of her dress.

The cup nearly fell from his grip.

"What are you doing?"

She didn’t look up.

"Giving you what you want."

It took a while before she responded.

With each slide of her fingers, more of her bodice came loose.

"Are you out of your mind, Claire? Do you know what you’re doing to me."

Creamy skin slid into view as she dipped to undo the lower laces.

"Claire." He rose up and caught her hands firmly when she continued to ignore him.

Claire wriggled slightly but stilled.

Their bodies were... touching.

Her scent was intoxicating him with its flowery richness.

But when she spoke, he realized exactly what was wrong with her - she smelled faintly of strong wine.

Claire was drunk. She must have been deep in her cups before coming for dinner.

Realizing the scandalous position she was putting herself in - even if she didn’t - he stepped away, trying to put her at arm’s length.

But he backed into the chair and fell backwards.

Since when did she start drinking? Was she going through something he wasn’t knowledgeable about?

Then, she started on the laces at her back. Claire’s fingers were clumsy as she fumbled with whatever contraption that hung behind her.

"I don’t want you... not like this. Not ever."

The words seemed to reach her. She froze, her breathing becoming shallow.

She moved away, running a hand through her hair. Her eyes were more focused than before... barely.

"Forgive me, Your Grace. I don’t... I don’t know what I’m doing." Her voice was slurred.

She made for the door, but he grabbed her wrist.

"You’re not leaving this room dressed like that."

Claire spun around to face him. Her eyes were blank once again - as though he had been speaking to her through a thick ice wall.

Much to his surprise, she started pulling at her laces again.

Women undressing before him was nothing new - but a drunk woman out of her wits was another story entirely.

Grimacing, he started fixing the laces she had undone. It wasn’t as hard as it looked - it only demanded that he inserted each lace end in its designated loop.

Yeren’s fingers brushed her breast so many times.

And each time, their eyes met sparingly.

He fixed the ones at the back, trying to distract himself from the heat of her body.

He should send her to her chambers - he no longer needed her.

"You can leave now." Her hands shot out and grabbed the sleeves of his shirt.

"No. I only feel safe when you’re around." She blurted out.

Was she being honest?

"You’re my Cupbearer."

A loud yawn escaped her

"Care for more wine, My lord."

Slowly, she moved out of his grasp and walked towards the large bed in the room.

His room.

His bed.

What would people think if they heard he was sharing his private rooms with her? He told himself that he would send her back as soon as the wine wore off - but he knew he wouldn’t.

Her stockinged legs were partially visible. Her long auburn hair fanned the bed surface.

And she was asleep?

Already?

Yeren ran a hand through his hair.

Both of them couldn’t share a room, much less a bed.

Downing his goblet of fine wine, he refilled it and drained the content.

Wine somehow made things clearer to him.

He decided to give her time.

He perused harvest reports without actually reading their contents, read letters and the like until it was deep into the night.

Claire was still sleeping.

But then, she started to shake. Perspiration beaded on her forehead.

Dropping the scrolls, he dashed to where she laid.

"Come back. Don’t leave me." She kept whispering furiously.

Yeren knelt on the bed, grunting when it creaked under his weight.

Claire was lying on her side, clutching the bed linen like her life depended on it.

"Wait!"

The despair in her voice made him pause.

What sort of dreams was she having?

He hoped it was dreams of Zachary tumbling over a waterfall and drowning.

She gradually stopped convulsing.

Her long eyelashes framed her eyes, shadowing them.

"Please, don’t go." She whispered for the last time.

And she turned to face him.

Her eyes were still closed - he knew he should step away, but part of him wanted to stay for the drama he knew would happen once she woke up.

Her eyes parted slowly.

"Yeren?"