A Dangerous Obsession
Chapter 78 - 77

Chapter 78: Chapter 77

LAYLA

I lay on the bed, picking at the meal the maid had left for me earlier. The smell of warm bread and some sort of stew was enticing enough to pull me out of my haze, but every bite felt mechanical. I wasn’t hungry, not in the way I should have been, but I knew better than to let myself waste away. If nothing else, eating gave me something to do, something to distract me from the swirling thoughts and aches that refused to leave me alone.

I swallowed another spoonful of the stew, its warmth doing little to fill the emptiness gnawing at me. The food was fine—good even—but it might as well have been ash on my tongue. The maid had smiled at me earlier, as if her cheery disposition could somehow crack through my gloom. She had fussed over the meal, muttering about the need for me to keep my strength up. I had nodded, murmured some noncommittal thanks, and waited for her to leave before sinking back into my bed like a stone.

As I sat there, staring at the half-empty bowl on the tray, I couldn’t help but think about my cats. It had been days since I had last seen them, and the ache of their absence was sharper than I expected. I missed the way they would curl up beside me, their purring a soothing balm to my fractured nerves. Their company had been a quiet comfort, a rare constant in a life that felt increasingly unmoored.

But, of course, His Majesty had seen fit to take even that from me.

"It’s not safe," he had said in that maddeningly calm, authoritative tone. "Cats have a mana-draining nature, and you’ve barely enough to sustain yourself as it is. Keeping them close will only weaken you further."

I wanted to argue, to tell him that the cats had never been anything but loyal companions to me. But what was the point? His word was law, and I was in no position to challenge it. So the cats were gone, spirited away to some distant corner of the palace where they couldn’t harm me—or so he claimed. And I was left alone in this bedchamber that felt more like a gilded cage with every passing hour.

My eyes drifted to the walls, their intricate carvings and gold accents doing little to cheer me. The bed was luxurious, with silken sheets and enough pillows to drown in, but it offered no real comfort. Everything here felt cold, impersonal, like it belonged to someone else entirely. Maybe it did. Maybe I was the intruder in this space, just another oddity in a life that had been anything but normal since I lost my wolf.

I sighed, setting the tray aside as I leaned back against the headboard. My hands rested on my stomach, and I closed my eyes, trying to conjure some sense of peace. But all I could see was His Majesty’s face, his piercing eyes and that infuriating smirk that seemed to haunt me even when he wasn’t around.

And no, he hadn’t come back.

For all his hovering and cryptic reassurances, His Majesty hadn’t returned after he left earlier. I had half expected him to, though I couldn’t say why. Maybe it was the way he lingered in my thoughts, the way his presence seemed to fill the room even when he wasn’t there. Or maybe it was the memory of his thumb brushing against my lips, the warmth of his hand against my chin. The thought sent a rush of heat to my cheeks, and I cursed under my breath.

Why was I thinking about him like this? He was the Lycan King, a being far removed from anything resembling decency. He had said it himself—he didn’t care about mortal bonds, about anything that tied him to beings like me. And yet, he had been there, hadn’t he? Holding me up when I couldn’t stand, ensuring I ate, keeping watch over me as though I were something precious.

I shook my head, trying to banish the thought. Precious? Hardly. I was a burden, a broken creature barely clinging to life. If he stayed by my side, it wasn’t out of affection or care. It was obligation, plain and simple.

But then why did it feel like more?

I groaned, rolling onto my side as I buried my face in the pillow. The silk was cool against my flushed skin, but it did nothing to calm the storm in my head. I hated this, hated how weak I felt, how every little thing seemed to rattle me. I hated being alone in this room, trapped with my thoughts and nothing else.

A faint knock at the door pulled me from my brooding, and I sat up just as the maid entered. She moved quickly, clearing away the tray without a word. Her eyes darted to me briefly, and I saw the flicker of worry there before she turned and left.

And then it was quiet again. Too quiet.

I glanced at the window, the pale light of the moon filtering through the heavy curtains. It was beautiful, the way the light danced on the floor, casting faint shadows that shifted with the breeze. But even that beauty felt distant, unreachable.

I sighed, lying back down as I let the silence envelop me. My hand drifted to the empty space beside me, and I thought again of my cats. If they were here, at least I wouldn’t feel so utterly alone. But they weren’t, and His Majesty hadn’t returned, and I was left with nothing but the echo of my own thoughts.

Closing my eyes, I tried to will myself to sleep, though I knew it wouldn’t come easily. My mind was too restless, too caught up in the ache of what I had lost and the uncertainty of what lay ahead. All I could do was wait, and hope, and try to remember what it felt like to be whole.