A Dangerous Obsession
Chapter 90 - 89

Chapter 90: Chapter 89

A gentle breeze stirred the delicate drapes by the window, bringing with it the subtle fragrance of blooming flowers from the garden below. It was the kind of day that should have felt peaceful, maybe even comforting, but instead, a quiet restlessness settled over me. I pulled my knees to my chest, resting my chin atop them, fingers absently tracing the worn edge of the book in my lap. Not that I was actually reading it—I hadn’t been for a while now.

My eyes drifted over the page, pretending to focus, but none of the words sank in. They blurred together, meaningless and distant, as my thoughts wandered back to the one thing I desperately wanted to avoid. No matter how much I tried to distract myself, it was always there, lurking at the edges of my mind, waiting for the slightest opening to take over.

Him.

His Majesty.

I wouldn’t kid myself by pretending I don’t love His Majesty—I love him far more than is probably wise, more than is safe for someone in my position. It’s the kind of love that feels like a weight in my chest, something I can’t shake no matter how hard I try. But at least I’ve made an effort to hide it, to keep it buried where no one—especially he—can see.

I told myself I had done a decent job of masking it, that I had kept my feelings safely locked behind a composed exterior. Still, a nagging part of me whispered otherwise, that maybe I hadn’t been as careful as I thought. Maybe he already knew. And if he did... well, I didn’t even want to consider what that might mean.

Leaning back into the plush cushions, I let out a weary sigh, the book teetering on the edge of my fingers before settling limply on my lap. Maybe it’s foolish—maybe I’m just deluding myself—but a part of me clings to the hope that I mean something to him. That I’m not just another play things. I want to believe I’m special to him, even if it feels like a lie I tell myself to keep breathing.

My heart ached with the weight of it all, the emotions swirling inside me like a storm I couldn’t control. I shifted, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and letting my bare feet rest on the cool floor. The sensation grounded me, if only for a moment.

The last time I felt anything close to this was with Thane. His memory struck me like a fist to the gut—sharp, relentless, and impossible to ignore. Thane, the first person who ever chose me. Despite being a half-shifter, he made me believe I was worth something, made me feel, even if just for a fleeting moment, that I was deserving of love.

I shut my eyes, forcing down the familiar bitterness clawing its way up. I had once thought he was my fairytale—the perfect love story I had secretly yearned for but never believed I’d have. Then, he rejected me, discarded me like I was nothing. That pain never truly left, clinging like a scar that never fully fades, no matter how much time passes.

With a quiet breath, I crossed the room, fingers brushing against the heavy drapes as I pulled them aside. Sunlight streamed in, golden and bright, bathing the space in warmth. Yet, even with its glow on my skin, it failed to thaw the cold knot sitting stubbornly in my chest.

Maybe that’s why I keep my feelings for His Majesty locked away, buried beneath layers of careful indifference. Because deep down, I’m terrified—terrified that if he ever finds out, it’ll change everything. That I’ll stop being someone worth noticing and become just another fleeting distraction. Another momentary amusement, discarded the second something more intriguing catches his eye. And honestly, I don’t think I could survive being cast aside again. Not by him.

I rested my forehead against the windowpane, the cool glass a stark contrast to the heat rising in my cheeks. Maybe the reason he’s shown so much interest is that he loves the chase. The thrill of trying to have me. And if he realizes he already has, I’m afraid he won’t find me fun or thrilling anymore.

So, I’ll keep running. I’ll run until the very end if I have to. Because stopping—letting myself hope—felt far too dangerous.

I turned away from the window, pacing back toward the bed. My fingers brushed over the spine of the book I had abandoned, and I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly at myself. Even when I read, I couldn’t escape him. Every time I opened a story, I ended up picturing the hero as His Majesty, and myself as the heroine. It was ridiculous. Embarrassing, even.

Dropping onto the bed, I buried my face in my hands. I was a mess—a lovesick fool caught up in something I didn’t fully understand. And yet, despite everything, I couldn’t bring myself to stop feeling this way.

A knock at the door snapped me out of my spiraling thoughts. I sat up straight, quickly smoothing down my dress and brushing a hand through my hair. "Come in," I called, my voice more composed than I felt.

The door opened, and one of the maids entered, carrying a tray with a pot of tea and some light snacks. She set it down on the small table by the window, offering me a polite smile. "Shall I pour you a cup, my lady?"

I nodded, grateful for the distraction. "Yes, please. Thank you."

As she busied herself with the tea, I tried to calm my racing heart. The warm, fragrant aroma filled the room, and I wrapped my hands around the delicate porcelain cup she handed me. The heat seeped into my palms, grounding me once more.

"Will that be all, my lady?" the maid asked, her tone respectful but curious. I realized I must have looked a little out of sorts—my hair slightly disheveled, my expression distant.

"Yes, thank you," I said, offering her a weak smile. She curtsied and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

Alone again, I sipped my tea, letting the warmth spread through me. The tea cup trembled slightly in my hand as I set it down on the table, the delicate clink of porcelain against wood barely registering in my mind. Despite the soothing warmth of the tea, my heart hadn’t calmed. I stood up, restless energy coursing through me, making it impossible to sit still.

Pacing the length of the room, I found myself once again caught in the web of thoughts I had been trying to escape.

Stopping by the window again, I leaned against the frame, letting the cool breeze wash over my heated skin. The memory of his touch surfaced, unbidden and unwelcome, making my breath hitch slightly. His hands had been so sure, so confident, as if he knew exactly how to unravel me. And I hated how much I craved that feeling again.

I closed my eyes tightly, as if that would somehow push the thoughts away. Get a grip, Layla. He’s the Lycan King—powerful, untouchable—and you... well, you’re just you. Whatever this is, it’s probably nothing more than a passing whim for him, a fleeting amusement. He’s likely already moved on, while I’m stuck here, drowning in emotions I have no business feeling, clinging to something that was never mine to hold onto.

I’m here, falling deeply inlove with the very monster I should be running from.

I’m truly am a lost cause.