A Dangerous Obsession
Chapter 108 - 107

Chapter 108: Chapter 107

LYCAN KING CASSIAN

The crimson glow of the hearth flickered across the stone walls, casting shadows that danced like phantoms. The warmth barely touched the cold that coiled around my bones. I lay sprawled on my bed, head tilted back against the carved wooden headboard, a goblet of wine in my hands. The deep red liquid swirled lazily as I rolled my wrist, watching it slosh against the sides, thick as blood.

A sip burned down my throat, the sensation dull compared to the storm brewing in my chest. It had been restless all evening, like a caged beast pacing behind my ribs.

A knock at the door.

I didn’t move immediately. I simply let my fingers tighten around the goblet, relishing the way the glass threatened to splinter. Then, with a slow breath, I spoke.

"Enter."

The door creaked open, and Sabastine stepped inside, his movements as precise as ever. His dark hair was slicked back, not a strand out of place, and his expression unreadable, though I knew better than to think him unaffected.

He closed the door behind him and bowed slightly. "Your Majesty."

My gaze flicked to him over the rim of my goblet as I took another sip. I let the silence stretch, let the tension settle like a thick fog between us. Then I exhaled, setting the drink down on the side table with a soft clink.

"Have she eaten?"

Sabastine stilled for the briefest moment before shaking his head. "No, Your Majesty."

My jaw clenched. That fucking goddess.

What did she tell her?!

The wine on my tongue turned bitter. I should not have expected anything less. I had given her the simplest command—to eat, to take care of herself. And yet, she defied me, as though she could exist on sheer stubbornness alone.

I exhaled slowly through my nose, keeping my expression carefully composed.

"Did I spoil her?"

Sabastine’s lips curved, barely a shift, but I caught it. He knew exactly what I was asking. And he knew how much the answer would infuriate me.

"This is the first time you’ve ever paid such close attention to someone," he mused, his voice smooth. "And yet, you ask a question you already know the answer to."

My fingers curled against the sheets. "And?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," he admitted. "You spoiled her."

A muscle in my jaw jumped, irritation prickling at my skin. Of course, I had. I had given her exactly what she wanted, letting her get away with far too much.

I reached for my goblet again, taking a slow sip, letting the wine sit on my tongue before swallowing.

"Is it because I love her?"

The words tasted foreign, like something poisonous. I almost laughed as they left my lips, a sharp, humorless sound that never fully materialized. Love. What an absurd notion. I was not created with love in the mix. If anything, I was molded into the very opposite. Love was soft, delicate. I was cruel, brutal. To think that I, of all creatures, could be capable of something so gentle... it was stupid.

Yet I had asked the question.

Sabastine remained impassive, his hands clasped neatly behind his back, his stance utterly unshaken.

"Your Majesty, you do not love her."

I dragged my eyes to him, watching for any flicker of uncertainty. There was none.

"You didn’t even hesitate, Sabastine," I murmured, taking another sip. "You wound me."

He inclined his head. "I am only being honest, Your Majesty."

I hummed, tipping my goblet slightly, watching the liquid shift. "And what do you believe I feel, then?"

Sabastine’s gaze didn’t waver. "Obsession."

I paused mid-sip.

Obsession.

The word settled into me, coiling around my ribs, fitting into place like a piece of a puzzle I hadn’t realized was missing.

"Is that so?"

"Yes, Your Majesty." Sabastine’s voice remained steady. "A very dangerous obsession."

I set the goblet down again, this time with more force than necessary. The sound rang out in the silence, sharp and final. My fingers drummed against my thigh as I let the weight of his words settle over me.

Obsession.

He wasn’t wrong.

It wasn’t love that coiled in my chest when I thought of her. It wasn’t love that made my blood heat, that made my thoughts revolve around her like a planet locked in orbit. It wasn’t love that made me crave the sight of her, the scent of her, the sound of her voice even when it was laced with defiance.

It was possession.

She was mine, whether she accepted it yet or not.

And if she thought she could keep pushing my limits, testing the boundaries of my patience...

She would learn.

One way or another.

I leaned back against the pillows, exhaling through my nose. "And what do you suggest I do about this... obsession, Sabastine?"

His lips twitched in something that almost resembled amusement. "I suggest, Your Majesty, that you proceed with caution."

I chuckled, low and dark. "Caution?"

Sabastine tilted his head slightly. "Yes. Because obsessions, when left unchecked, tend to consume."

I smirked, fingers tracing the rim of my goblet. "And you think I am someone who allows himself to be consumed?"

Sabastine didn’t answer immediately. Then, with a slight bow of his head, he turned on his heel.

"May I leave Your Majesty?!"

I scoffed. "Leave."

"Good night, Your Majesty."

I watched him leave, the door clicking shut behind him.

Alone again, I reached for the goblet, lifting it to my lips. But this time, as the wine slid down my throat, it did nothing to quench the fire burning in my chest.

I stood up and I walked toward the window.

The heavy drapes had been drawn back, revealing the moonlit garden below. It stretched vast and untamed, the towering hedges swallowing the pathways, the ivy creeping like greedy fingers over the statues of forgotten deities. The scent of night-blooming jasmine lingered in the air, thick and cloying, mixing with the damp earth.

My gaze swept over the garden, my thoughts unwillingly drifting to her. The defiant tilt of her chin, the fire in her eyes whenever she looked at me. She was a thorn buried deep in my side, pressing in further each time I tried to remove it.

Then, before I could react, I felt the touch.

Slender arms wrapped around my waist, fingers splaying against my bare stomach. The touch was light, teasing, as if testing the limits of my patience.

A scoff left my lips, slow and deliberate. My voice, when I spoke, was soft but edged with the kind of warning that preceded bloodshed.

"Remove your hands," I murmured, "or I might have to cut them off."

A light, silken chuckle followed, warm breath brushing against my back before the hands slipped away.

"Still so cruel," she mused, her voice honeyed, taunting. "You wound me, dear mate."

I turned my head slightly, catching a glimpse of her from the corner of my eye.

The goddess.

She stood beside me now, her long, silvery hair streaming over her bare shoulders, her lips curved in that ever-present smirk. Her beauty was not of this world—because she was not of this world. Everything about her shimmered with an unnatural glow, like moonlight captured in flesh.

She was temptation wrapped in divinity. And I had never been someone who entertained the idea of worship.

She tilted her head, eyes glinting with amusement. "How’s that pet of yours?"

The moment the words left her lips, my fingers were around her throat.

Her smirk didn’t falter, not even as my grip tightened.

"How many times," I murmured, my voice dangerously low, "have I told you not to lay your flirty hands on what’s mine?"

Her laughter was a whisper against the night air, unfazed, as if she reveled in my fury. "So possessive," she teased, her fingers brushing lightly against my wrist. "But then again, you always were."

I squeezed, just enough to make her breath hitch.

Her silver eyes gleamed, reflecting the light of the moon. She was immortal, untouchable in ways I could not begin to grasp, but that did not mean she was immune to pain. And I would remind her of that, should she ever need a lesson.

Her lips parted, a ghost of a sigh slipping past them. "Tell me, dear mate... do you even know what it is you claim as yours?"

My grip tightened, red bleeding into my vision. "You talk too much."

A sharp grin split her lips. "And you, my love, feel too much."

I released her with a shove, watching as she staggered back with a laugh. She rubbed her throat, as if savoring the sensation.

"You always did have a temper," she mused. "One of the traits I so much love about you."