Claiming His Luna

Cercei’s POV

I am utterly fed up, completely and utterly done. Everyone around me has fallen into an eerie silence or become awkwardly distant. They are obviously trying their best to hold their tongues, but their behavior is a dead giveaway that something is amiss. Even Maria, who is usually so composed, is acting strangely.

This wasn’t the purpose that I came here, nor does it align with my mission. When I called Vincent for updates on my mother, he had nothing to share. Moreover, the elders are starting to grow suspicious of my whereabouts since they didn’t witness my departure, and Aunt Melanie is still in the pack.

And then there was that noise I heard in the hallway. If it weren’t for everyone acting so strangely and avoiding me, I might have dismissed it as a figment of my imagination.

I don’t know what to do with all of this. I had intended to return to that hallway, but once again, I found myself detained in my room.

“Miss, you are not allowed to leave your…” The guard stationed outside my room began as soon as I opened the door. I crossed my arms in frustration.

“I wish to see your boss,” I demanded firmly.

“Lord Lucian is…”

“I don’t give a single fuck,” I rudely interrupted. God Himself would understand my cursing, given what I’ve been through.

“Bring him to me, or I will find him myself,” I asserted impatiently. The two guards in front of me exchanged bewildered glances, unsure how to answer. I rolled my eyes in exasperation and marched forward, aiming to head to Lucian’s office.

“Miss, you can’t leave,” they said, clutching both my arms.

“Let go of me!” I tried to wrestle my arms free.

“Please, Miss, return to your room,” they begged as they forcefully ushered me back inside. As my patience wore thin, my eyes turned red, and my fangs began to grow. In the blink of an eye, I found myself engaged in a fierce fight with them. I wrenched my arm free, delivering a forceful elbow to one guard’s abdomen and landing a solid punch on his nose. The other tried to restrain me, but my speed was unmatched, and I promptly hindered him with a swift kick to his sensitive area.

I found myself surprisingly empowered, displaying skills I never knew I had as I quickly incapacitated both guards. Their radiotelephone began to ring as they writhed in pain on the ground.

While they were occupied with their discomfort, I decided to take matters into my own hands and answered the call.

“Good fight,” came Lucian’s voice on the other end. I gritted my teeth in response.

“Happy to put on a show for you,” I replied, dripping with sarcasm.

“You seem eager to see me,” he taunted.

“Indeed, I’m coming to see you, and any guard that dares to stop me will regret it,” I declared before cutting the call. I retrieved a gun from one of the guards and proceeded to Lucian’s office.

To my surprise, there were no guards in sight. It seemed they had cleared out swiftly, which was unusual considering they were usually stationed everywhere like clockwork.

I pushed open the door to Lucian’s office with a loud creak. He was leaning against his desk, one hand in his pocket and the other holding a drink. A smirk illuminated his face as he stared at me.

I loaded the gun and pointed it at him, slowly closing and locking the door, maintaining eye contact all the while. His amusement at the situation was infuriating, making me even more tempted to pull the trigger.

“Please, have mercy,” he mockingly pleaded. My jaw clenched in frustration.

“Where is my mother?” I demanded firmly. He took a sip from his drink, remaining nonchalant as if no gun was aimed at his head.

“Would you mind putting the gun down? It’s obstructing my view of your beautiful face,” he quipped, evading my question. Annoyed, I cocked the gun.

“Where is she?” I repeated with intensity, closing the distance between us until the tip of the gun touched his forehead. He calmly set down his glass.

“Somewhere, but not here,” he answered calmly. I pressed the gun harder against his head, growing impatient.

“Don’t play games with me, Lucian,” I growled in frustration.

“Ah, did I finally manage to kill the saint inside you?” he asked, amused. Little did he know that the saint in me had died long ago, the moment I stepped outside that mansion.

“Answer me, or I will blow your head,” I threatened calmly yet assertively.

In an instant, our position shifted dramatically. Swiftly, I found myself leaning against the table while he stood before me, firmly grasping the very gun I had held just moments before. The cold, menacing tip of the gun lightly touched my chin.

“Or I will blow yours,” he retorted in a chilling tone.

“You must either be exceedingly brave or utterly foolish to challenge my capacity inside my own home,” he taunted as he advanced closer. I attempted to maintain a semblance of distance, perched awkwardly on the edge of the table.

“I think I like the devil you’re turning into,” his voice, a seductive whisper, held me captive, and our nearness left me feeling somewhat lightheaded. His words seemed to cast a spell, and I found myself momentarily entranced.

“I’d miss the good old saint Cercei, but I must admit, I find the change in you rather intriguing,” he mused, his fingers gently brushing against my hair.

My instincts screamed at me to resist, and I attempted to kick him, but he effortlessly caught my legs, preventing any further action. Luckily my dress offered little protection, leaving my skin acutely aware of his touch.

The seething anger that had consumed me earlier seemed to change into something else entirely, a fierce hunger, an insatiable craving. I felt an inexplicable desperation, longing for something beyond mere control or power.

He parted my knees further with his knees. I wanted to fight, but I was slowly giving up to his lustful eyes.

“I hate you,” the words slithered from my lips, devoid of any trace of anger. Instead, it dripped with a mesmerising allure, weaving a spell of enchantment that defied conventional emotions.

“Hmm,” He slowly let his fingers glide down my thighs, then up to my flat belly, ribs, and chest.

I closed my eyes and felt the heat numbing my entire being when his finger reached the nub on my left breast. I shivered. He massaged it slowly with just one finger!

“I hate you too.” He said in a seductive voice.

I bit my tongue when he pinched it a little. “I hate you more.”

“Really,” His fingers went circular. His voice was thick, low, and pleasant to the ears.

One smooth move, and he freed my breasts from my bra and dress. I opened my eyes in astonishment, and heat went flushing down as I looked down on my two mounts. He massaged it freely as his kisses gently trailed on my neck until it reached my cleavage.

I moaned. I yielded to his embrace. I sensed his other hand deftly securing my back, preventing me from tumbling entirely off his elegant office table. I found myself submitting to the magnetic pull of his touch as if I were melting into his arms.