Betrayed By My Mate, Claimed By His Lycan King Uncle
Chapter 142: I’ll take responsibility for last night.

Chapter 142: I’ll take responsibility for last night.

Meanwhile, back at the inn where Anaya, Rhys, and Kisha had stayed the night..

It was already noon, but Kisha didn’t disturb either of them but continue allowing them to sleep. She had purposely given them space. She knew how much Anaya liked Rhys and didn’t want to ruin whatever fragile happiness was blooming between them. So, she stayed away waiting for them to wake up by themselves.

Inside the dimly lit room, Rhys slowly opened his eyes. His body felt drained, his limbs heavy with exhaustion. He tried to sit up, but the vivid memories of the night before came crashing into him all at once.

The kiss.

Tearing off Anaya’s clothes.

The way they’d lost control.

The way he’d claimed her. again and again without restraint.

"Damn... I really did that," Rhys muttered under his breath, voice hoarse. His eyes widened, and he quickly covered his mouth to stifle a shout. His heart pounded as his gaze shifted across the room, landing on the candles which are extingused now, those same candles he had suspected were laced with aphrodisiacs. His brows furrowed in disbelief.

"What kind of inn places aphrodisiacs in their guests’ rooms? Just because it was a ’couples suite’ doesn’t justify it," he thought, gritting his teeth. "There should’ve been a warning at least."

His gaze drifted back to the bed, where Anaya still lay beneath the thick duvet, her breathing soft and even. She looked peaceful. Innocent. Untouched by guilt.

But Rhys couldn’t unsee the things they’d done. The way her body trembled beneath him. The way he’d latched onto her nipples, how he’d explored her pink warmth with aching desire, ensuring she was slick and ready before he’d buried himself inside her.

Even without a voice, Anaya had made small sounds...quiet, breathy moans that echoed in his ears and the way her eyes had rolled back with every thrust, he couldn’t forget any of it.

She had been under the influence of the aphrodisiac too.

That much he was sure of.

Suddenly, Anaya stirred, shifting beneath the covers. Rhys froze. She sat up without a word, the duvet slipping from her shoulders to reveal her bare torso...medium-sized round breasts with soft, pink nipples exposed to the cool air.

Rhys’s eyes darted to her chest, and he immediately looked away, swallowing hard. Why do I feel even more drawn to her now? he wondered. Fine. we already had sex, but why do I still want her... this badly?

Anaya’s hand slowly reached toward him, her fingers brushing against his bare arm, snapping him from his spiraling thoughts. Her touch was light, gentle, but grounding.

Taking a shaky breath, Rhys turned to her, then reached behind her back to trace letters onto her smooth skin, letting his words come out through the language they shared in silence.

"I’ll take responsibility for last night," he wrote. "I’ve already left the palace, and I know the Queen will send people after me when she realizes I’m missing. But I’ve made up my mind. I’m done being a sex slave. And now that I’ve slept with you... I can’t just walk away. I’ll take responsibility. Kisha said we were close once, and maybe... staying near you will help me remember who I really am."

Anaya’s swallowed hard as she understood the message etched across her skin. But her heart ached at his words. No, she thought. This... this isn’t right.

She took a deep breath and gently reached behind him, her fingers carefully tracing her own message onto his back.

"You don’t have to take responsibility just because you slept with me," she wrote, slowly and clearly. "I don’t want your guilt, Rhys. I don’t want a relationship built on pity. It’s okay...we were both drugged. We’re adults. Things like this happen. It doesn’t have to mean anything if we don’t want it to."

Rhys tensed, his fingers twitching before he turned and began to trace his response on the bare skin of her back.

"But... you’re a lady," he wrote with a furrowed brow. "What man would marry a woman who’s already lost her virginity?"

"Well, there’s no one for me. I’m not getting married to any other men, so don’t worry. I’m good. Just... Kisha must not find out about this," Anaya traced slowly on Rhys’s back, her fingertips hesitant but firm with finality.

"Alright, Your Highness. I’m sorry," Rhys replied as he wrote gently on Anaya’s bare back. She nodded in response, her expression unreadable.

"Let’s hurry and leave this inn before we’re caught," she continued, her strokes deliberate now. "I don’t know where we can go next, but anywhere is better than that cursed palace."

She paused for a heartbeat, then resumed.

"I won’t return to my parents’ palace either. My aunt will surely send men to look for us there. Let’s keep traveling...we can rent a house in another pack... or build a strong straw house in the wilderness if we must."

With that final line traced onto his skin, both nodded silently to each other and rose from the bed, each quietly getting ready for the long travel. There was no regret in the air...just quiet determination.

*****

The Next Morning, back at Lupien palace...

Golden sunlight streamed gently through the ornate curtains of Dimitri’s chamber, casting a soft, warm glow across the figures of Sorayah and Dimitri as they lay tangled together in the aftermath of a carefully crafted illusion.

Their eyes fluttered open slowly, groggy from sleep or perhaps exhaustion from the emotional toll of their performance.

Sorayah blinked, confusion briefly crossing her face before she realized something.

She was lying on top of him.

Directly on top of Dimitri.

"Couldn’t keep your hands off me, huh?" Dimitri teased, raising a playful eyebrow as a familiar smirk tugged at his lips.

Startled, Sorayah quickly sat up, nearly slipping off the bed. "I..." she tried to respond, but then froze.

Her throat felt dry...raw. She coughed lightly, then winced.

"How am I supposed to talk now?" she croaked out, her voice barely louder than a whisper despite her effort to speak normally.

"I’ll do the talking," Dimitri said smoothly, letting out a low chuckle as he sat up slightly beside her, his expression amused. "And besides, you’re not done acting."

Sorayah raised a tired eyebrow, one hand instinctively clutching her aching throat. "What else do I have to do?" she asked in a strained whisper.

Dimitri’s expression softened just a little, though the glint of mischief never fully left his eyes.

"I’m sorry, Sorayah," he said, gently. "I could kiss you now and the pain would disappear. But that would ruin everything. No one knows about my healing ability. If you suddenly start speaking clearly after the entire palace heard you moaning last night, it’ll raise questions."

Though he tried to maintain a serious tone, his lips twitched, clearly holding back laughter.

Sorayah rolled her eyes. Her voice, she knew, now resembled that of a dying mouse....a soft, pitiful squeak. It was humiliating.

She tried to swallow again, only for pain to radiate down her throat.

"It’s fine, Your Highness," she whispered hoarsely. "Just tell me. What else is left for me to do?"

Dimitri tilted his head and gave her a mock-thoughtful look. "Well, you can’t spend the whole night under me, taking my dick, and still walk straight today or tomorrow."

Sorayah choked on air.

Her cheeks flushed a deep red as she turned sharply toward him, glaring. But Dimitri continued nonchalantly, saying the words without an ounce of shame.

"To sell the illusion completely...especially after Arata’s death...you’ll need to walk with your legs just slightly apart," he said matter-of-factly. "As if you’re sore. To reflect the... intensity of the night you supposedly had."

Sorayah could barely breathe, her face now red with embarrassment. She opened her mouth to respond, only to close it again in disbelief.

"No one will be seeing us today anyway," Dimitri added more seriously. "But tomorrow? I’ll need you to play the part flawlessly. Once the plan is successful, I’ll reward you. You have my word."

He leaned back against the headboard, the weight of coming responsibility falling over his features.

"The emperor’s mourning ceremony ends tomorrow," he said. "They’re rushing it as the throne can’t remain empty for long."

Sorayah listened, her hand still gently holding her throat.

Dimitri’s expression darkened as he continued. "Mira... she’ll take this opportunity to implicate you. Everyone heard you moaning last night but then no one would dare say a word except for Mira. She’ll go to the Empress Dowager and accuse you of dishonoring the late emperor by engaging in intimacy during the mourning period."

A cold chill passed through Sorayah. Of course Mira would use that.

"But don’t worry," Dimitri added firmly. "Tomorrow, I’ll be crowned. Even if Mira manages to get you thrown in the palace prison, I’ll pull you out. Liam will be watching over you until the final coronation ceremony is complete."

He turned his gaze to her, solemn now. "You’re not alone in this, Sorayah."

She swallowed hard once more, forcing back the nerves tightening in her chest, then gave a slow nod.