Cursed Lycan's Scarred Mate
Chapter 62: Almost Caught

Chapter 62: Almost Caught

Bashful, Vivian buried her face in the large expanse of his hard chest covered by a layer of stark fur. As usual, the beast was utterly shameless and a master at putting her into embarrassing situations.

"Do you detest the idea of being mine, little wolf?" The Lycan teased, his claws tenderly coursing through the strands of her hair.

Vivian was perfect where she was. She belonged there. In his arms, where no one would dare touch her.

The icy night air rustled his fur, but it was a cold sensation that he welcomed regardless. Relating the history of the cursed Lycans was far more unsettling than he expected.

It was a time of darkness and ruin. A time he lived through and no longer possessed much memory of.

After all, he was a spirit born of the primordial beast power the humans sought. Gaining a conscience and mind of his own, he emerged from the remnants of beast spirits lurking within that power.

Thus, he was passed on from generation to generation as the only unique spirit that possessed the sons of the Wolfsbane clan, bringing upon them a greater calamity than what they already had to face within themselves.

He was basically a double-edged curse upon those he possessed.

"I don’t detest it," Vivian admitted, her voice muffled by his chest. "I just don’t understand anything between us yet, and I’m not sure what I’m ready for and what I’m not ready for."

Good. Her honesty was all that he needed.

While there was still some suspicion about her knowledge of the Old World, he didn’t wish to doubt Vivian.

At some point, he may question her. But not now.

"We won’t rush into anything you aren’t comfortable with," the Lycan said reassuringly. "Truth be told, I don’t know how a fated mate can break a Lycan’s curse. It’s never been done before."

Vivian’s head perked up immediately, and the Lycan could detect the obvious question in her eyes.

What did he mean that a Lycan’s curse had never been broken before? What of all the fated mates that came before her to the other Lycans?

"The Lycans of my clan...met very unfortunate fates in previous generations," the Lycan revealed, his gaze darkening. "As did their mates."

"What...happened?" Vivian found the courage to ask. She could sense the anguished feeling oozing from the Lycan. His body stiffened, and his jaw shifted tensely.

He must be talking about the massacres Moonborn committed. Soran assumed. His position and presence were nearly discovered when a large black spider crawled up his arm, startling him.

He jolted back into the bushes, causing the leaves to rustle and alerting the Lycan’s attention. Cursing under his breath, Soran singed the spider to burnt crisp with a flame spell, dusting off its ashes from his arm.

The Lycan carefully set Vivian on the bank before taking off into a violent charge towards the treeline, canines bared and growling.

Great. Just what I needed. Soran remarked mentally. He swiftly retrieved a vial containing a shining blue liquid from the confines of his attire. He broke the vial into pieces by throwing it with tremendous force to the ground, and a cloud of blue smoke erupted.

By the time the Lycan arrived, tearing through the bushes, Soran was already gone without a single trace other than the broken vial and spilt liquid on the grass.

Alarmed, Vivian trailed after the Lycan to investigate the sound. He held her back to avoid her feet from trampling over the shattered glass shards.

"One of the Wickans was here," the Lycan stated, lifting his head to sniff the air for any scents. "I should have smelt them if they followed us, but there was no scent other than our own."

"Why would they follow us?" Vivian examined the blue liquid without moving closer; her eyes narrowed in question. "I thought they wouldn’t dare to come close to you."

"Wickans are too curious for their own good. They pry too much where they shouldn’t," the Lycan remarked, lowering his head to sniff the liquid. "It won’t be difficult to find which one used this vanishing concoction. Each Wickan specialises in a certain aspect of magic. Ronan can enquire from Morgana in the morning."

"What will you do when you find out who it is?" Vivian leaned against one of the trees, crossing her arms under her bosom.

"Like what I do with wolves and Wickans who wandered into my territory uninvited." The Lycan grinned menacingly again, a glint of pride in his eyes as he stood upright. "Eat them."

"So you do eat werewolves!" Vivian exclaimed, breaking away from the tree and clasping her hands together upon hearing his revelation. "When I asked before, you were vague. I knew you were eating them!"

A loud roar of laughter erupted from the Lycan’s throat as he threw his head back.

"Ronan beats around the bush with words, but not I," the Lycan affirmed. "I assumed you would have found it obvious by now that I eat wolves, considering I’ve eaten you twice now."

Vivian had never witnessed him laugh so freely and unrestrained before. She had to admit that although his laugh was rather beastly, it was also somewhat seductive to the ear.

She liked it.

However, her face heated up from his lewd remark a moment later.

"That’s a different kind of eat!" Vivian protested, blowing air into her cheeks to puff them up.

"Doesn’t change the fact that I still ate you like I do with other wolves." The Lycan shrugged, tugging her closer into his arms. "And I’ll eat you every morning henceforth. I will eat you till you can’t move or even remember your own name." His words were a dark, husky promise that toyed with her heart, prompting it to beat wildly.

"You’re changing the topic," Vivian reminded him, blushing subtly. "What happened to the other Lycans and their mates?"

The Lycan’s gaze hardened intensely again.

It was almost as if he was defensive about the topic and wanted to avoid it entirely.

"That is a story for Ronan to relate to you, princess," the Lycan objected, shaking his head. "It’s his tale to tell, not mine. Just as the curse was my story to share and not his."