A Dangerous Obsession
Chapter 56 - 55

Chapter 56: Chapter 55

The walk to the Lycan King’s chambers felt like a journey into madness. Sabastine led the way, silent as ever, his long strides forcing me to keep pace. I trailed behind, my mind racing with one very important question: Why the hell was I doing this?

I mean, seriously—what did I care if the Lycan King was holed up in his room, licking his wounds after his latest spat with the goddess? It wasn’t like he had ever shown any regard for my well-being. If anything, this felt like walking straight into the lion’s den. The logical thing would have been to say no, to slam the door in Sabastine’s face and go back to my book and my cats.

And yet, here I was, trudging down these cold, winding halls, letting Sabastine drag me deeper into the belly of the beast. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was stupidity. Probably both.

When we finally stopped in front of the heavy, ornate door, Sabastine turned to me and bowed. Bowed. Again. What the hell was up with that?

Before I could even ask, he straightened and walked away, leaving me standing there alone.

I stared at the door, my feet rooted to the ground. The air here was thick, oppressive, as though the very walls were holding their breath. My hand hovered over the wood, hesitating. I didn’t want to knock. Every instinct screamed at me to turn back, to let the Lycan King deal with his mess on his own. But another part of me—a reckless, stupid part—pushed me forward.

With a deep breath, I knocked.

Nothing.

No shuffling inside, no gruff "enter," no acknowledgment of any kind. My heart hammered in my chest, but I knocked again, louder this time. Still nothing.

Frustration began to creep in, mixing with my nerves. Balling my fist, I pounded on the door, and that’s when his voice cut through the silence, sharp and low.

"Leave, Sabastine."

The words were a growl, laced with annoyance and pain. I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry, but I forced myself to speak. "I’m not Sabastine."

There was a pause, and for a moment, I thought he hadn’t heard me. Then, without warning, the door swung open with such force I instinctively stepped back.

And there he was.

The Lycan King towered over me, his massive frame blocking out the dim light from his chamber. He was shirtless, his broad chest glistening with sweat, every inch of him a tapestry of scars. Fresh wounds crisscrossed his torso, some still oozing blood, others already scabbing over. The raw brutality of his appearance hit me like a punch to the gut, but it wasn’t just the injuries that left me speechless.

It was his face.

For the first time since I had met him, the ever-composed, ever-terrifying Lycan King looked... shocked. His red eyes widened slightly, his mouth parting as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. The expression was so uncharacteristic, so ordinary, that I almost forgot to breathe.

But then, as quickly as it appeared, the shock melted away. Slowly, his lips curled into a smile—not a smirk, not the cold, mocking grin I was used to, but something else entirely. It was almost... satisfied.

"My bride," he said, his voice low and smooth, and somehow even more dangerous than his usual growl.

The words hit me like a slap, and I couldn’t stop the way my heart sped up, pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it.

"What—" I started, but the words died in my throat.

He leaned casually against the doorframe, his gaze sweeping over me in a way that made my skin prickle. His hair was damp, sticking to his forehead, and his entire presence seemed larger than life, like the air itself couldn’t contain him.

"You came to see me," he said, as if the very idea amused him. "How unexpected."

I blinked, struggling to find my voice. "I—I didn’t want to, your majesty," I blurted out before I could stop myself. "Sabastine practically dragged me here."

The smile widened, and there it was—the hint of mischief I was more accustomed to. "Is that so?"

"Yes," I said, clearing my throat and willing my voice to steady. "He said you were hurt and that you wouldn’t let anyone in."

His gaze darkened, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. "And you thought I would let you in?"

I hesitated, suddenly very aware of how close he was, of how the heat radiating off his body mixed with the metallic tang of blood and sweat. "If I’m being honest, your majesty, no. But Sabastine seemed to think so."

The Lycan King let out a low chuckle, the sound reverberating in his chest. "Sabastine always did have a twisted sense of humor."

I shifted uncomfortably, my eyes darting to the fresh wounds on his chest. "You should sit down. You’re bleeding everywhere."

His expression shifted again, the amusement dimming slightly as his eyes narrowed. "You think you can order me around now, bride?"

"I think you’ll collapse if you don’t," I shot back before I could stop myself.

The room went silent, the tension crackling like a live wire. For a moment, I thought I had crossed a line, that he would snarl or lunge or do something to remind me just how out of my depth I was. But instead, he did something far worse.

He laughed.

It wasn’t a cold or cruel laugh—it was rich and deep, like the sound itself was mocking my existence.

"Still bold even after our last encounter," he said, his ruby red eyes locking onto mine. "I like that."

I swallowed hard, my pulse racing. "I’m not trying to impress you, your Majesty."

"Oh, but you do," he said, his voice soft and dangerous, the kind of tone that sent shivers down my spine. "More than you know."

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. The weight of his gaze, the intensity of his presence—it was suffocating. And yet, for some inexplicable reason, I didn’t want to look away.

Finally, he stepped aside, gesturing for me to enter. "Come in, bride. If you’re going to lecture me, you might as well do it properly."

I hesitated, every instinct screaming at me to turn and run.

With a deep breath, I stepped inside, crossing the threshold into the Lycan King’s lair. Whatever came next, I had a sinking feeling there was no turning back.