A Dangerous Obsession
Chapter 114 - 113

Chapter 114: Chapter 113

LYCAN KING CASSIAN

~

The sky was a bleak shade of gray, heavy with the promise of rain, but my bride didn’t seem to care.

She strolled leisurely through the castle gardens, the hem of her dress barely brushing the dewy grass, her hair catching what little light the overcast sky allowed. But it wasn’t the sight of her alone that twisted something deep inside my chest—it was the presence of the stray walking beside her.

My jaw clenched as I watched them from my study window.

He was a wiry thing, lean and sharp-eyed, with a casual stance that reeked of misplaced familiarity. His presence irritated me enough, but what infuriated me most was the way she smiled at him.

Not the hesitant, polite smiles she wore in my presence.

Not the defiant, tight-lipped smirks when she tried to challenge me.

No.

This was different.

Genuine. Unrestrained.

It was the kind of smile that made my grip tighten on the windowsill, my claws threatening to pierce the wood.

He was speaking to her in a low voice, his hands moving expressively as he spoke, and she—she—was laughing. Laughing.

I took a slow, steadying breath, forcing myself to exhale through my nose.

This was what she wanted, wasn’t it? A piece of home. A glimpse of something familiar.

And so I had given it to her.

Even if it burned.

Even if the sight of her standing beside someone else made my blood roar in my ears.

The least I could do was give her this.

After all, she was angry at me.

I let out a sharp exhale, dragging my hand through my hair.

Perhaps this stray would prove useful.

Would at the very least make her forget about the gardener.

Perhaps... this wiry stray could replace him.

My lips curled at the thought.

I heard the soft, hesitant knock at my door but didn’t turn away from the window.

When no response came, the door creaked open, and my ever-faithful servant stepped inside.

Sabastine moved with his quiet confidence, his steps measured. Careful. Yet, there was something almost bold in the way he approached.

"I know letting her meet someone from her pack would make her remember her hometown and bring a smile to her lips..." He paused, watching me. "But do you think this is for the best, Your Majesty?"

A low, dark chuckle rumbled from my chest.

How daring he was becoming as of late.

I turned my head slightly, just enough to catch the flicker of doubt in his expression.

"Showing your concerns so openly, Sabastine?" My lips twitched into a smirk. "How bold of you."

His expression remained unreadable. "It is only boldness if it is unwelcome, Your Majesty."

I hummed in amusement before turning back to the window, watching as she tilted her head, listening intently to whatever nonsense the stray was whispering to her.

"Let her play with her new toy," I murmured.

It was the least I could do.

The silence stretched between us, thick and heavy, as I continued watching my bride. Her laughter had died down now, replaced with something softer—a quiet, content smile as the stray spoke to her.

I let out a quiet scoffed but Sabastine, ever observant, did not miss a thing.

"And what of the goddess?" he asked, his voice careful.

The air in the room seemed to shift.

Stillness.

A dangerous, lingering stillness.

I did not answer.

Sabastine, to his credit, did not falter. Instead, he exhaled slowly, pressing forward. "You have made it quite obvious," he said, "that you no longer intend on keeping the lady only to infuriate the goddess."

My fingers flexed against the window ledge.

Slowly, deliberately, I turned to face him.

I did not need to speak.

The weight of my stare was enough.

Sabastine inhaled sharply, realization flickering across his face. His lips parted—perhaps to excuse himself, perhaps to justify his words—but instead, he bowed his head.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty."

Then, without waiting for dismissal, he turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

The room fell into silence once more.

I exhaled slowly, my eyes drifting back to the garden.

And my bride.

A slow smirk curved my lips as I leaned against the window frame.

How should I punish her for making me crave her so?

It was infuriating—the way she affected me. The way my mind refused to be free of her.

I traced the rim of my goblet with a single finger, considering.

"You are rather cruel, darling," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

As if she heard me, she suddenly stiffened, her laughter faltering.

Then, slowly, she turned.

Her gaze lifted, seeking—until it met mine.

Ah.

The air between us tensed, stretched impossibly thin despite the distance.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

Then, a flicker of something unreadable passed through her eyes before she turned away, her attention returning to the stray at her side.

I swirled the wine in my goblet, amusement flickering through me.

So she had felt my stare.

How delightful.

I lifted up my goblet to my lip to take a sip but paused when she lifted her gaze to meet mine again and this time she did not look away.

Neither did I.

The distance between us did not matter.

Her lips parted slightly, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her dress as if bracing herself. Then, just before her gaze returned to the stray, she shot me a fleeting glare.

For what, little bride?

She knew better than to play with fire.

And yet, she still hadn’t learned that she belonged to the flame.

"Very charming," I mumbled as I drank from my goblet.

I would let her hold my gaze a moment longer, let her believe she had some power in this silent battle of wills. But it was an illusion, and soon enough, she would learn that.

With a final glance, I stepped away from the window, turning my back on her.

Let her think she was free of me, even for just a little while.

The illusion of freedom would make the chains feel all the heavier when they tightened around her throat.

I moved through my study with slow, deliberate steps, my mind an unquiet storm. The candlelight flickered against the dark wood, casting long, wavering shadows across the floor. The air still held the faintest trace of wine, a lingering ghost of my earlier indulgence.

How foolish of me to think that would dull my hunger.

Not for blood.

Not for war.

But for her.

She was under my roof, sleeping in my bedchambers, breathing the air I allowed her to breathe—yet it was not enough.

I wanted her unraveled.

I wanted her to look at me the way she had looked at me before.

Soft. Trusting. Open.

She had once given me those glimpses, those little cracks in her armor, moments where she had faltered in her anger. A touch here. A hesitant glance there. The way her breath would catch when my fingers skimmed too close.

But now?

She resisted.

She dared to keep parts of herself from me.

That would not do.

A slow exhale left my lips as I reached for the heavy cloak draped over the chair. My fingers curled around the fabric, the movement calm, measured. I fastened it over my shoulders, feeling the weight of it settle across my frame.

This game of hers—this stubborn need to defy me—it would end.

She would come to understand the truth soon enough.

Not through force.

No, I had long abandoned that crude method. She would come willingly, her body betraying her mind. Her heart betraying her words.

Because no matter how much she fought, no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, she belonged to me.

She always had.

A smirk curled at the edges of my lips as I moved through the dimly lit corridors, the flickering torches casting jagged shadows along the stone walls.

I have been far too patient with this game.

Indulging her defiance. Allowing her to dance at the edges of my control.

But patience had its limits.

When the time came—when she finally learned—I would ensure she rewarded me properly.

A very deserving present.

Something befitting a king.

Befitting a man who had spent far too long craving what was already his.