A Dangerous Obsession
Chapter 79 - 78

Chapter 79: Chapter 78

I lay on the bed, my eyes fixed on the ceiling as if it held the answers to all my questions. The room was still quiet except for the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth.

My mind wandered, as it often did these days, and I found myself thinking of Elara. I had no idea why she came to mind so often, especially now when I was at my lowest. Maybe it was because, for all her faults, she had once been a constant in my life. A selfish, maddening constant, but a constant nonetheless.

For some weird reason, I thought she would at least visit me. I wasn’t sure why I expected it, but part of me still held onto the idea that she might care enough to check on me. I scoffed at the thought, shaking my head slightly.

My fingers toyed with the edge of the blanket as I tried to distract myself from the growing ache in my chest. I hated how weak I felt. Hated how much time I had to think now that I was confined to this bed.

The door creaked open, and I snapped my attention toward it. My heart betrayed me by skipping a beat, and I cursed myself for the rush of relief that surged through me when I saw him.

His Majesty.

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t happy to see him. There was something about his presence that grounded me, even if I didn’t want to admit it. But at the same time, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of annoyance. He had taken his sweet time, hadn’t he? Which was absolutely insane for me to think. This was the Lycan King—The fact that he had even been here as much as he had was surprising.

But still, my mind twisted his actions into something darker. He was probably playing a game. Maybe another of his elaborate manipulation. He wasn’t someone who could genuinely care—not about me, not about anyone. The thought dug into my chest like a thorn as I looked away from him, my gaze returning to the ceiling.

"Hiding your beautiful face from me, darling?" His deep, velvety voice filled the room, laced with a teasing edge that made my skin prickle. "How much torment are you going to inflict on me today?"

I turned my head slightly, just enough to catch the faint smirk playing on his lips.

I watched him carefully as he stepped into my bedchamber, his broad figure commanding the space with effortless confidence. The firelight danced across his sharp features, highlighting the shadow of a smirk that always seemed to play on his lips. I tried to ignore the flutter in my chest at his presence and turned my attention to the ceiling, pretending I didn’t care that he had finally decided to grace me with his company.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him pause beside the small table near my bed, his attention snagging on something. My breath hitched as I followed his gaze to the book I had foolishly left there. My cheeks burned, and I immediately regretted not putting it away.

The book wasn’t like the ones I usually read. It was... different. Explicit. I wasn’t even sure why I told the maid to pick it up in the first place, but after the charged moment we had shared earlier—the dream, his presence, the brush of his thumb against my lips, the way he looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered—I’d been left with this strange, aching curiosity. I wanted to understand it. Understand him.

But now, seeing him notice it, I wished I could melt into the bed and disappear.

"Another one of your books," he said, his voice laced with amusement as he picked up the book.

My heart stopped. No. Please don’t open it.

I forced myself to remain still, knowing that any protest would only pique his interest further. If I acted like it didn’t matter, maybe—just maybe—he would put it down.

He didn’t.

Instead, he flipped it open, his long fingers brushing against the pages as he skimmed the contents. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying he would just laugh it off and move on. But when I dared to peek at him, his smirk had deepened, and his dark eyes were practically alight with mischief.

He turned another page.

I wanted to die.

The silence stretched unbearably, broken only by the faint rustle of paper as he continued to read. My heart pounded so loudly I was sure he could hear it. Why did he have to be so damn curious?

"Darling..." His deep voice cut through the tension like a knife.

My cheeks burned hotter than the fire in the hearth, and before I could stop myself, I threw my hands over my face, groaning in mortification.

This is the most embarrassing moment of my life.

I could hear the smugness in his tone as he said, "I had no idea you were interested in... such topics."

"Put it down!" I snapped, my face still hidden.

He laughed softly, the sound rich and teasing. "Why? I think it’s fascinating. Though I must admit, I’m surprised. I didn’t think you were the type."

"I’m not!" I said quickly, lowering my hands just enough to glare at him. "It’s not like that!"

He arched a brow, clearly unconvinced. "Is that so? Then why is your face as red as the cover of this book?"

I glared at him, wishing I could conjure some witty retort, but my brain was too frazzled to think of anything. Instead, I yanked the blanket up over my head, retreating into the safety of my cocoon.

"You’re adorable when you’re flustered, you know that?" he said, his voice closer now.

I peeked out from under the blanket to find him standing at the edge of the bed, the book still in his hand. He looked far too pleased with himself, and it only made me feel more exposed.

"Why are you even here?" I demanded, trying to divert the conversation. "Don’t you have something better to do than torment me?"

"Ah, but tormenting you is the highlight of my day," he replied, his smirk never faltering. He set the book down on the nightstand and leaned slightly closer, his dark eyes locking onto mine. "Besides, I couldn’t stay away for too long. You have a way of... occupying my thoughts."

I hated how his words made my heart skip a beat. Hated how my body betrayed me, reacting to every little thing he did. He was too much—too overwhelming, too infuriating, too intoxicating.

He straightened, giving me a moment to breathe, and I thought the teasing was over. But then he added, almost casually, "I must admit, though, I’m curious. Which part of the book was your favorite?"

I groaned, pulling the blanket back over my head as he laughed again. He was impossible, and I hated that a part of me didn’t really mind.