A Dangerous Obsession
Chapter 27 - 26

Chapter 27: Chapter 26

The blood drained from my face. "What happened?" My voice was barely more than a whisper, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Dorian ran a hand through his hair, his normally composed demeanor shattered, his face tight with worry. "I don’t know—she collapsed. She was fine, and then... she just... went down. I need the physician, but he won’t come without an order from His Majesty."

My mind was spinning, but I forced myself to stay calm. Elara needed me. "Take me to her," I said, my voice steady despite the panic rising in my chest.

We rushed down the hall and out into the tower’s estate, where most of the servants and workers lived. Dorian led the way to their home and into Elara’s chambers. The moment I stepped inside, I saw Elara lying on the bed, her face flushed with fever and her breath labored. She was drenched in sweat, her eyes half-closed, barely conscious.

My heart clenched. "Elara..."

"She’s burning up," Dorian said, his voice tight with frustration and fear. He stood near the bed, hands clenched at his sides as he watched Elara’s fevered form. "I’ve done what I can, but it’s not enough." His usually steady hands trembled slightly, betraying the helplessness he was trying so hard to hide. The flickering candlelight cast shadows across his face, deepening the worry lines etched on his facial features.

"Call the physician," I ordered Dorian, my voice trembling. "Now."

He hesitated, his expression pained. "I tried. He said he only takes orders from His Majesty. He won’t come without his permission."

I clenched my fists, fury boiling inside me. "I am the Lycan king’s match!" I snapped. "And by that authority, you will bring him here. Now."

Dorian didn’t waste another second. He ran from the room, his footsteps fading into the distance as I turned back to Elara, kneeling beside her bed. I reached out, taking her cold hand in mine. "Hold on," I whispered, my voice breaking. "Just hold on, Elara."

I grabbed a basin of cold water and a cloth, knowing I had to cool her down until the physician arrived. With a steady hand, I began the painstaking process of trying to bring Elara’s fever down. The moments stretched on, agonizingly slow, each second feeling like an eternity. I wiped her face, her arms, and her neck—any exposed skin that might find some relief. Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, and her skin was scorching beneath my touch, as if a fire raged just beneath the surface.

Every breath I took felt like a battle against the overwhelming fear threatening to consume me, each inhale tight and shaky, as if the weight of my worry pressed down on my chest. The room seemed to close in around me, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sickness, amplifying the sense of helplessness that gnawed at the edges of my mind. I wasn’t a healer. Hell, I was barely even a werewolf.

After what felt like eternity, the door finally flew open and Dorian walked in with the physician in tow. The physician glanced at me warily, his bag already in hand, but said nothing as he set to work, his hands moving swiftly, administering what potions and remedies he had brought. I watched, heart in my throat, as he checked her pulse, her breathing, his expression unreadable. After what felt like an eternity, he turned to me.

"She’s stable," he said, his voice professional. "But she’s weakened. I’ll need to monitor her closely, but for now, she needs rest and time."

Relief flooded me, She was going to be okay. I hadn’t realized how tense my body had been until that moment, and I let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight lift from my chest.

As the physician gathered his things, I looked over at Dorian, who had been standing silently by the door, watching everything with an intensity that only deepened the ache in my chest.

"She would be okay," I said softly, though the words felt hollow. I didn’t know if we had saved her yet.

Dorian’s face softened with relief, but there was still worry in his eyes. "Thank you, my lady," he said, his voice thick with emotion. Then, without thinking, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me in a tight embrace, his face buried in my shoulder. "You saved her, My lady," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you so much."

I froze, caught off guard by the embrace. My arms hovered in the air for a moment before I awkwardly patted his back, feeling a mix of emotions. Relief, yes, but also something warmer, something that stirred in my chest at the gratitude in his voice.

For a moment, we stood like that, united in our shared fear for Elara. The bond she shared with him was something I could never fully understand, but right now, we were both fighting for the same thing—her survival.

But before I could fully process the moment, a shadow fell over us. The room seemed to darken, the warmth replaced by a cold chill that prickled my skin. Slowly, I turned, my heart sinking as I saw him.

The Lycan King stood in the doorway.

His imposing figure filled the doorway, his expression unreadable. His piercing eyes swept over the room, landing on me, then Dorian, then finally Elara’s still form.

He said nothing, but the air in the room shifted, heavy with the weight of his presence.

Dorian immediately released me, stepping back, his face pale as he realized what had just happened. "Your Majesty," he stammered, bowing his head quickly, but the Lycan King didn’t acknowledge him.

His eyes were still on me, dark and unreadable, and in that moment, I felt the air grow heavy between us. I straightened, forcing myself to meet his gaze, but my heart was pounding in my chest.

"Layla," he said, his voice low, cutting through the quiet like a blade. "What, exactly, is going on here?"