A Way to Tame a Clueless Lycan King!

In the dining room, Edmund sat alone at the head of the table. His expression was … how should Primrose describe it? Bad? Constipated? Murderous?

Whatever it was, he looked mad. His entire body was tense beneath his attire. 

His fists were clenched so hard that his knuckles turned white, and his jet-black hair was slightly tousled as if he'd run his hands through it too many times in frustration.

What's his deal? Primrose frowned, sneaking a glance at him.

Then, she heard his mind.

And oh.

[My wife! My wife is sitting beside me!]

[She smells so good! And she looks so damn beautiful today!]

[Did she sleep well last night? I couldn't sleep at all … my damn boner wouldn't stay down!]

[… Shit! It's happening again!] 

Edmund's entire body went rigid as she took her seat beside him. 

He inhaled sharply, the sound barely audible, but Primrose heard it. His Adam's apple bobbed, his fists tightened, and on top of any of that was he still refused to look at her.

Then, a deep growl rumbled from his throat.

Oh?

Primrose pressed her lips together to suppress a laugh.

Could it be that the Lycan King had left her in the dining room before … because he couldn't control himself around her?

Back then, he hadn't even marked her yet, and he still reacted like a complete mess around her. So what about now?

Primrose stole a glance at Edmund. He sat beside her, tense as a coiled spring, looking like he was in actual, physical pain.

The truth was, yes, his boner was suffering.

His sharp jaw was clenched so tightly she swore she could hear his teeth grinding. His hands gripped the silverware like they had offended him personally.

A slow, wicked smile curled at her lips.

This man had dared to make her suffer last night, leaving her alone to deal with the heat he ignited. 

How unfair. How cruel. Well, what kind of queen would she be if she didn't return the favor?

She reached for her glass, deliberately leaning forward just enough for the Lycan King to get an eyeful of her cleavage.

"Oh—" She gasped softly, voice laced with feigned innocence, as she accidentally knocked the fork near his plate onto the floor.

Edmund froze. His whole body was locked up like a statue carved from stone.

[Don't pick it up. Don't pick it up. Don't pick it—]

Smirking to herself, Primrose bent down to retrieve the fallen fork, ensuring her cleavage was perfectly on display, creating an irresistible view just for him.

[Oh, fuck.]

[I want to touch.]

[No, I need to touch.]

Edmund's fingers twitched around the knife, his body coiling like a predator ready to pounce. 

His blood ran scorching hot, every inch of him taut with the primal urge to grab, to feel how soft she was, to press his hands over that perfect, round breast and—

[STOP. FUCKING. THINKING.]

A violent scrape of a chair echoed through the dining hall.

"I have work," Edmund blurted, his voice hoarse with strain. His hands fisted at his sides as if physically restraining himself from flipping the entire table over.

Primrose blinked up at him innocently. "But, Your Majesty, you haven't even finished eating."

Edmund shot her a look so sharp it could slice through steel. He let out a harsh, frustrated exhale.

[If I stay one more second, I'm going to throw her over my shoulder, march back to the bedroom, and—]

Primrose furrowed her eyebrows, feigning concern. "Are you alright, Your Majesty?"

"I'm fine!" he snapped, too quickly, too harshly. His chair scraped against the floor as he pushed back. "I'm done eating!"

[No! No! Wife, I'm sorry!]

[It's not you—I just—fuck! This damn boner won't go down!]

In her first life, Primrose had let him walk away, swallowing the humiliation like a bitter pill. 

But this time? Oh, she wasn't letting him off the hook that easily.

Just as Edmund turned to leave, she spoke, her voice soft, filled with just the right amount of vulnerability.

"If you leave now, you'll make me look bad."

She let out a forlorn sigh, lowering her gaze like a woman resigned to her fate. "People will think His Majesty is avoiding his mate the morning after marking her. You might not care, but everyone else will whisper behind your back about how much you despise me."

A pause. Just long enough to let her words sink in. "But that's alright, Your Majesty."

Primrose lifted a delicate hand to the corner of her eye, rubbing at nonexistent tears. Her lashes fluttered, and her lips trembled just enough to twist the knife deeper. "I know you hate me. I know I probably don't even deserve your attention."

She hadn't expected much from her little act.

But the moment the words left her lips, Edmund froze. And within seconds, the Lycan King dropped back into his seat.

[Who the hell dared to insult my wife?!]

[If she said people were talking behind her back, then it must be true. I need to find those bastards.]

So, he really did punish anyone who dared to speak badly about her.

But what was the point?

No matter how many people he silenced, there would always be more. Haters multiplied like weeds, cutting one down only made room for another to grow.

That was exactly how it had been in her first life.

And because she and Edmund barely spoke, he never even realized it was happening. As long as people kept their insults out of his earshot, he remained unaware.

This was why communication was important in a marriage!

If Edmund hadn't spent all his time scowling or glaring at her like she was some kind of pest, maybe, just maybe, Primrose would've had the courage to talk to him.

She was only human, okay?

Living among powerful beasts meant she had to be careful with every single step. The last thing she wanted was to piss off the Lycan King.

Yes, she had embraced death when it came for her, but that didn't mean she was suicidal!

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

Primrose deliberately placed her hand over Edmund's, rubbing it gently, almost like she was stroking a dog's paw. "You're really thoughtful."

In this life, she had a plan.

If she wanted to silence the gossip and make them choke on their own words, she had to make sure the Lycan King looked utterly, hopelessly in love with her.

Everyone needed to see it.

They needed to see that Edmund cherished her, adored her, and couldn't live without her.

But first … she really had to teach this damn man how to communicate properly!

"Don't touch my hand!" He yanked his hand away, turning his face away from her.

[MY WIFE TOUCHED ME! Her hand is so soft! But if she keeps doing that, I might lose control!]

[Oh no. I acted like a complete beast! She must be upset. I have to say something! Quick!]

Edmund coughed, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. 

He looked like a man desperately trying to fix something but having no idea what to say.

Primrose tilted her head, watching him squirm.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

"Ah, I'm sorry, Your Majesty."

Primrose quickly hid her hands under the table, lowering her head so deeply that Edmund could no longer see her face. "I was being inappropriate. You must be disgusted by my touch."

Her voice trembled, not because she wanted to cry, but because she had tried her best not to laugh.

But to Edmund?

It sounded like he had made her wife super-duper upset to the point of making her cry in the middle of breakfast!

[Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. I made her cry?!]

Panic appeared across his face. His mind was a storm of frantic thoughts—

[Shit, what do I do?! Do I apologize? Do I hold her hand? Wait, no, if I touch her, I might lose control—]

Edmund swallowed hard. "I-I didn't mean—"

He hesitated, the words dying in his throat. What was he even trying to say?

Primrose lifted her head so slowly, letting a single tear slip down her cheek.

"Yes, Your Majesty?" she asked, her voice trembling just enough to sound wounded.

Her round, glistening eyes locked onto his, and Edmund's entire body tensed.

[Shit. Shit. Shit.]

[Did I just make my wife cry?]

[Look at her! Those big, teary eyes, that trembling lip—fuck, she's adorable.]

[Wait. No. Focus. She's sad because of me?]

[What do I do? What should I say?!]

[Wife, please, don't cry! If you cry, I might actually throw myself out the window.]

"I-I didn't mean to yell at you," Edmund said stiffly, forcing the words out. "My hand was just greasy from the food."

Oh, nice! Finally, he was speaking to her without barking like an angry beast.

Wait … could she push this further? Could she make him stop yelling at her forever?

Well, well. Let's find out.

Primrose sniffled delicately, letting another tear slide down her cheek. 

Her voice trembled just enough to sound heartbreakingly fragile. "Is that so?" she softened her voice. "Your Majesty … actually, I have a weak heart. Whenever someone raises their voice at me, my chest aches so badly."

Edmund's face lost its color. His entire body went rigid, frozen in place as if his brain had stopped functioning from shock.

Even his damn boner—his stubborn, uncontrollable boner—immediately admitted defeat.

[I ... I ALMOST KILLED MY WIFE!]

[I deserve to die! Someone bring me a sword. No, maybe a guillotine!]