The Villains Must Win
Chapter 196: (+18) Lyander Wolfhart 46

Chapter 196: (+18) Lyander Wolfhart 46

[WARNING! MATURE Content Ahead!]

His wolf stepped closer, eyes dark with hunger, and nudged her with the side of his muzzle.

Gently at first. Then firmer. A silent command. She arched higher in response, breath stuttering.

"Oh . . ." she exhaled, voice barely a whisper.

He brushed against the inside of her thighs next, nudging them apart with deliberate care.

Liora responded to his guidance without resistance, her body opening up for him—entirely.

His control thinned further.

She was trembling now, not out of fear, but from sheer anticipation. Her heartbeat pulsed in the air, quick and fluttering, syncing with his own rising rhythm.

His wolf’s voice dropped, deep and rough, laced with heat and something far more tender than his wolf would admit.

"Good girl . . ."

Her breath hitched again at the praise, her fingers curling into the fur beneath her. He could sense her eagerness, her tension, her raw, unguarded want. And he matched it with his own—step for step.

But even as the heat thickened between them, Lyander took another moment to just look at her, burning the image into memory. Her courage, her grace, the way she gave herself to him fully—not just as a partner, but as his now mate. His equal. His everything.

And tonight, under the stars and surrounded by nature’s breath, he would claim her not just with instinct . . . but with soul.

His wolf took another step back, letting his gaze roam over her. Every inch of her bare skin was offered up to him, and a low growl of approval rumbled from his chest.

There was a singular thought echoing through him, unfiltered and animalistic:

"She should stay like this—naked, submissive—for the next week at least."

Lyander agreed. Entirely. If it were up to him, they would disappear for days. No distractions, no interruptions. Just the two of them, tangled in need, letting instinct and emotion lead them wherever they may.

He moved to her side, rubbing his thick fur against her exposed skin, transferring his scent. Claiming her. Marking her in the way his beast demanded.

Then, without warning, his tail lifted.

And came down.

The sharp crack of contact echoed through the cavern, catching her off guard.

Liora jolted with a sharp gasp, her breath tearing from her lips. "Ah—!"

"Be still," his wolf growled, his voice deep and commanding, edged with something dangerous.

She froze, every muscle in her body going taut. Her eyes widened, unsure at first—but not afraid. Not of him.

Lyander could feel the change in her—how her confusion gave way to realization. This wasn’t just lust. This was consequence. His wolf had decided: the punishment for her lie would come from him. Personally.

He hadn’t known he would do it. Not until this very moment. But it didn’t surprise him.

She had lied to them—hidden what she was. He understood her reasons . . . but his wolf didn’t care. To the beast, it was disobedience. Disloyalty. And that couldn’t go unanswered.

Nervous energy danced through her body. She knew this wasn’t like before—this wasn’t play.

The last time he’d used his tail on her, it had been teasing, indulgent. Firm strokes, each one followed by a soft caress on her pussy, easing the sting. But not tonight.

There was no gentleness now.

He circled around her, trailing his fur across her skin like fire and silk, his steps slow, calculating.

Once he reached her other side, the tail came down again on her pussy—sharper, more deliberate. She gasped, her fingers curling into the fur blanket, and a strained sound escaped her throat.

That was the wrong sound.

Before she could take another breath, his teeth were at her throat.

"Submit," he snarled, his canines grazing her skin—but not piercing. The threat, though, was unmistakable.

She whimpered, going completely still beneath him. Her heart raced, but deep inside, he could feel her yielding. Not from fear—but trust.

This was what it meant to give herself to him fully.

"To me," he said, his breath hot against her ear. "To us."

"I do," she whispered. "I’m yours. I won’t lie again—I swear it."

Lyander could hear her heartbeat thundering, her breath shallow and shaking. He released her slowly, his mouth lifting from her throat, satisfied with her response—for now.

He returned to his position behind her, brushing his tail slowly across the back of her thighs. A soft warning.

Then came the next stroke.

And the next.

By the fifth, her whole body trembled. Her skin was flushed, her breath ragged. Her thighs quivered from the effort of staying in place. But still—she held.

Red marks now bloomed on her cheeks and thighs, evidence of her penance. And yet, beneath the pain, there was something else—something stronger rising inside her.

Desire. Connection. A growing awareness that what they were forging wasn’t just a bond of flesh—it was soul-deep.

Lyander’s wolf hovered behind her, breathing heavy, his body taut with restraint. The scent of her filled the air—sweet, warm, and inviting. She was his.

And he would claim her fully.

But not with punishment.

Now came the reward.

His wolf’s anger had subsided.

She had accepted her punishment, submitted without resistance, and now—he was pleased. Deeply, wholly pleased.

He pushed his muzzle between her trembling arms, gently lifting her chin until her head rested atop his. A soft rumble of approval vibrated from his chest.

"You did well," he murmured, voice low and rough with praise.

Her fingers curled into the thick fur at his neck, clinging to him with quiet relief. Her tension began to melt in the wake of his approval, and he felt the subtle shift in her body—the way she leaned into him, seeking comfort and connection.

He licked her breast, teasing her nipple with his tongue in a soft flick.

"It’s time for your reward."

"Oh—" she gasped, startled by the sudden spark of pleasure that surged through her. Her arousal returned, fierce and bright, reignited by his touch and the promise in his voice.

Pulling out of her grip, he circled behind her again, his powerful body fluid and confident. With a nudge of his snout, he encouraged her hips back into position—elevated, offered, obedient. She moved without hesitation, raising her rear and arching her spine, presenting herself for him.