A Dangerous Obsession
Chapter 97 - 96

Chapter 97: Chapter 96

LAYLA

A wolfless werewolf.

Sometimes, the weight of that realization hit me out of nowhere, like a cold gust of wind cutting through a warm afternoon. It wasn’t just a label—it was a truth I carried, one that had shaped so much of who I was. Back in Sy, I was at the very least a Half-shifter. But somehow, here... where I was less than that... I felt happier.

The thought made me chuckle softly as I wove the stems of wildflowers together, their vibrant petals brushing against my fingers. I sat cross-legged in the soft grass, the sunlight filtering through the canopy of trees above me. It felt almost surreal, this moment of peace. My hands moved instinctively, crafting a crown of daisies and lavender blooms.

As I bent down to pick another flower, something made me pause. That sense of being watched crawled up my spine, sending a shiver through me. Slowly, I turned—and there he was.

His Majesty.

He leaned casually against the thick trunk of an ancient oak tree, the dappled sunlight highlighting the sharp angles of his face. His crimson eyes, always so piercing, were fixed on me with an expression I couldn’t quite decipher. Around him, my three cats were sprawled out lazily, their fur glinting in the sunlight. One of them had curled up on his lap, and I couldn’t help but laugh at the sight.

The Lycan King—the person I had once feared as a ruthless monster, someone who could snap his fingers and end me—was sitting under a tree surrounded by cats.

The sound of my laughter must have broken whatever spell had held him still because he scoffed, his lips curling into something that was almost a smirk.

I grinned and stood, brushing the dirt off my skirts. The flower crown dangled from my fingers as I made my way over to him, each step deliberate. He watched me approach, one brow raising slightly, as though he were daring me to continue.

When I reached him, I didn’t give him the chance to speak. Instead, I placed the flower crown on his head, tipping it slightly so it sat just off-center. The absurdity of it made me laugh again, the sound bubbling out of me before I could stop it.

"A crown for the King?" I teased, taking a step back to admire my work.

He raised a hand to the crown, as if to adjust it, but instead shook his head, letting it slide off. Before I could protest, he caught it and reached for me. I barely had time to react before he set the crown gently on my head.

"It suits you better, darling," he murmured, his voice low and smooth.

My cheeks burned instantly, the warmth spreading like wildfire. He stepped back, clearly amused by my reaction, while I struggled to find words that wouldn’t betray just how flustered I felt.

How on earth could I hate this man?

I turned away, desperate to focus on something—anything—else. My gaze fell on the gardens stretching out before us, a familiar sight that brought with it an unexpected wave of nostalgia.

The weeds were starting to creep in, their wiry tendrils curling around the bases of once-proud blooms. It wasn’t much, just a few patches here and there, but it was enough to spark a memory.

James.

I swallowed hard, the image of his kind smile flashing in my mind. He used to brighten my days by leaving flowers on my windowsill—simple gestures that had meant so much more than I had ever let on.

And then there was Elara.

She would have hated this, I realized. She had always been particular about the garden, insisting on perfection even in the smallest corners. I crouched down, brushing my fingers over a wild sprout that had invaded a bed of lavender.

She had always been the first to wake me, pulling me out of bed with her infectious energy. This garden had been our favorite place, a sanctuary where we had spent countless mornings.

I missed them.

The ache in my chest was sharp, sudden, and I realized I hadn’t thought about them in weeks. How had I let myself drift so far from the people who had once been my world?

"Something on your mind?" His Majesty’s voice pulled me back to the present.

I blinked, turning to find him watching me again, his expression unreadable.

"No," I lied, forcing a smile. "Just... memories."

He didn’t press further, though the way his gaze lingered made me wonder if he saw through my pretense. Instead, he shifted his attention to the cats, one of which had taken to batting at his sleeve with tiny, determined paws.

The sight was enough to draw a small laugh from me, easing some of the tension that had built up inside. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. Maybe, just for a little while, I could allow myself to exist in this strange, confusing space—between the past I couldn’t let go of and the future I wasn’t sure I wanted.

For now, I would simply be.

A soft chuckle escaped me as I plucked the sprout carefully, holding it up like a prize.

"You’re laughing again," came His Majesty’s voice, smooth as silk.

I froze, the weed still in my hand. He was standing now, his imposing frame casting a shadow over me. The sun caught in his crimson eyes, making them shimmer like molten rubies. He wasn’t smirking this time, though—his expression was softer, almost curious.

"Am I not allowed to?" I asked lightly, brushing off the dirt from my hands as I stood.

He tilted his head, considering me in that unnervingly intense way of his. "You’ve been laughing a lot lately. It’s strange."

I raised an eyebrow. "Strange, Your Majesty? Or... annoying?"

His lips curved upward, just slightly. "Perhaps both."

I rolled my eyes at him—something I never would have dared to do a month ago. "Then I’ll try to keep my joy to myself. Wouldn’t want to offend your royal sensibilities."

He chuckled, low and deep, and for a moment, I forgot to breathe. That sound... it was so rare.

Xylara broke the tension, leaping off the oak tree and landing neatly at my feet. I bent to scratch behind its ears, grinning as it leaned into my touch.

"Are you planning to keep ignoring me for them?" he asked, his tone laced with irritation as he glared at Xylara.

"Maybe," I teased, standing again. "They’re far less demanding."

The corners of his eyes crinkled ever so slightly, the barest hint of amusement flickering there. "Demanding? You wound me, darling."

I felt my cheeks flush, and I quickly turned away, pretending to inspect another patch of flowers.

"You’re lucky I haven’t demanded your exile," I shot back, though my voice lacked any real venom.

He hummed thoughtfully, as if weighing the possibility. "True. But I suspect you would miss me."

I snorted. "Miss the person who used to terrify me every time he walked into a room? Hardly."

"Used to?"

I froze again, realizing too late what I had admitted. When I glanced back at him, his expression had shifted—still playful, but there was something sharper beneath it, something that sent a chill down my spine.

"You’re not afraid of me anymore?" he asked, his voice soft but carrying an edge that made my heart race.

"I..." I trailed off, searching for the right words. "I didn’t say that."

He stepped closer, and for a moment, I was acutely aware of just how tall he was, how much space he seemed to occupy. The cats darted out of his way as he stopped mere inches from me, his crimson gaze locking onto mine.

"Good," he murmured, his voice dropping lower. "Fear keeps things... interesting."