A Dangerous Obsession
Chapter 43 - 42

Chapter 43: Chapter 42

The words hit me like a slap, and I felt my heart skip a beat, anger flaring up before I could stop it. How dare he? How dare he assume he knew what I was thinking, what I was feeling? But even as the anger simmered, a small part of me knew he wasn’t entirely wrong. The thought made my cheeks burn with humiliation. But he was wrong if he thought it was in that kind of way.

I lifted my chin, forcing myself to meet his gaze, even though it made my skin prickle with unease. "Believe what you will, Your Majesty," I said, my voice colder than before, "but I assure you, I was merely following your summons."

His smirk widened, a dark, almost wicked gleam in his eyes as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You know, I could make this easier for you," he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, laced with something dangerously soft. "I could give you exactly what you want... if only you would admit it."

The intensity of his gaze made my breath hitch, a twisted mixture of emotions churning in my chest. Part of me wanted to lash out, to shout at him, to finally tell him exactly what I thought of his games. But another part, the part that had always been just a little too drawn to the danger he embodied, held me in place, frozen under his gaze.

He watched me for a long moment, his eyes dark and unreadable, before he finally leaned back, his smirk softening into something almost contemplative. "Very well," he said softly, his tone carrying a hint of amusement. "We’ll play this your way... for now."

Without another word, he stood up, brushing past me with a casualness that belied the tension that had filled the room just moments before. The faintest brush of his fingers against my arm sent a shiver down my spine, a reminder of the power he held, of the game he was playing—and of the twisted, undeniable fact that a part of me was still caught in it, whether I liked it or not.

As he left the room, leaving me standing there in the dim candlelight, I felt a strange mixture of relief and frustration wash over me. I hated that he had this effect on me, that he could unnerve me with just a look, a smirk, a few carefully chosen words. And yet, as much as I wanted to hate him, to despise him for every cruel, calculated move he made, I couldn’t deny the bitter truth—that somewhere, deep down, a part of me craved his attention, even if it meant stepping into the darkness he so willingly wielded.

And that truth, more than anything, terrified me.

I let out a breath I hadn’t even realized was holding in. The weight of his presence still lingered, like a shadow stretching across the floor, even though he had long since disappeared through the doorway. My cheeks burned as the words he said played over in my head, each one more infuriating than the last.

I hated how he got under my skin, how he could twist a simple question into a loaded dare, how he used every moment to remind me of the power he held over me. But what made it worse—what made me grind my teeth in quiet shame—was that I had been waiting, hoping, even feeling a spark of... something when Sabastine had knocked on my door. It hurt to admit, even to myself.

The quiet of the room felt louder than any silence had a right to. It pressed against my thoughts, forced me to face the truth I had been trying so hard to ignore. I crossed my arms over my chest, hugging myself against the cold realization sinking in.

Before this place, I would have laughed if anyone had suggested I would one day feel even the slightest glimmer of... interest in someone as cruel as the Lycan King. Someone as calculated, as domineering, as insufferable as he was. But here I was, left standing alone in his chamber, feeling an unsteady mix of relief, frustration, and something that bordered dangerously close to longing.

I shook my head, trying to dispel the feeling, but it clung to me like a fog that refused to lift. I made my way toward the window, hoping the view outside might clear my thoughts. From here, I could see the dark expanse of the forest stretching out beyond the castle grounds, a sprawling, untamed wilderness that mirrored the storm brewing in my chest. It was strange to feel trapped and yet so... boundless all at once, like one wrong move could unravel everything I had ever known.

A slight creak sounded behind me, pulling me out of my thoughts. I turned, half expecting to see him standing there again, that familiar smirk on his lips, as if he had somehow sensed that I wasn’t quite done with him. But no, it was just Sabastine, stepping in as quietly as ever, his gaze lowered as he carried a tray of tea and pastries.

"My lady," he said, his tone respectful but distant, as if he had perfected the art of remaining detached from whatever chaos was unfolding around him. He set the tray on a small table by the window and then retreated a step.

"Thank you, Sabastine," I murmured, taking a seat near the tray, more for something to do than out of any real desire for tea. I poured myself a cup, watching the steam curl up into the air like tendrils of a ghost.

For a while, we stayed in silence, each lost in our own thoughts. It was strange, really, how easily he blended into the background, like a shadow that knew its place. I found myself wondering if he ever thought about leaving this place, about escaping from under the King’s iron grip. But then, maybe he was more comfortable in this role than I would ever be.

Eventually, the silence became too much, and I cleared my throat, glancing up at him. "Sabastine... Do you ever get tired of... this?" I gestured vaguely around the room, hoping he would understand what I meant.

His eyes flickered, just a hint of something hidden beneath the surface, but his expression remained unreadable. "I serve as I am required, My lady," he replied smoothly, his voice devoid of any hint of rebellion or dissatisfaction.

I wasn’t sure what I was even expecting Sabastine to say. "Right," I muttered, taking a sip of the tea, the warmth a stark contrast to the chill seeping through me.

As I sat there, I felt a faint tug of exhaustion pull at me. Today had been... intense, to say the least. I glanced down at the bracelet on my wrist, the protection charm he had given me. It was simple, unassuming, yet somehow it felt heavier than anything else I owned. I couldn’t help but remember Elara’s words.

My chest tightened as I thought of her, her familiar smile and the gentle way she had always looked out for me. It made me miss her even more, a dull ache spreading through me as I realized just how much I had relied on her steady presence. She would have known what to say right now, how to ease the confusion swirling in my mind.

But she wasn’t here. I was alone, facing the twisted, layered world of the Lycan King with no one to guide me, no one to tell me when to step forward or pull back. I sighed, rubbing a thumb over the charm, as if the motion could somehow ground me.

The silence shattered when Sabastine spoke, his voice soft but laced with irritation. "It would be best if I just say it and gets this over with," he said, a hint of annoyance slipping through. The sharpness of his tone startled me.

What...?

Was he talking to me or himself.

Sabastine shifted, his gaze sharpening as he studied me. "I serve His Majesty, my lady and though I understand how... unfortunate your situation may be, I would rather he gets bored of you—or breaks you entirely. It would be best for everyone."

His words sent a chill through me. The calmness in his voice, the almost businesslike tone—it was as if he were simply stating a fact, as if my fate were an inevitable nuisance.

"This is only the second time His Majesty has shown interest in a female, you know," he continued, his face unreadable. "The last time didn’t... exactly end well."

I swallowed, feeling my pulse quicken as he let that sentence hang in the air.

"He’ll probably start spending most of his time with you from now on," Sabastine added, a glint of something unreadable flashing in his eyes. "Let us hope he tires of you quickly, before things escalate. Do us both a favor, my lady—behave."

There was no threat in his voice, not exactly, but his words held a weight that told me more than enough. The message was clear: every single soul in the dark tower probably wanted me gone for a certain reason. A reason no one is yet to tell me about.

Sabastine’s expression softened, if only slightly, as he looked at me, almost as if he pitied me for being caught in the King’s orbit. "You may return to your chambers, my lady," he said, and without another word, he turned and slipped from the room, leaving me alone with the unsteady mix of dread and anger churning inside me.

Then I remembered the Lycan kings word. This is a game and I wonder how long you will last.

Whatever flicker of interest I was having for him vanish in thin air.