The Lunar Crest Academy: Marked by The Lycans
Chapter 38: The Pulse Between

Chapter 38: Chapter 38: The Pulse Between

"How dare you keep me waiting."

The words were a growl, low, dangerous, and unrestrained.

Before Lorraine could open her mouth to explain, Kieran had already moved. One second, the room was silent. The next, she was pinned to the wall with such speed and force that the air escaped her lungs in a startled gasp.

His hand clamped around her throat, not enough to choke, but enough to hold. Enough to remind her of the imbalance between them. His thumb pressed against the side of her jaw as his red eyes locked onto hers, burning with fury. He was taller, his presence overwhelming, consuming the very air between them.

Lorraine’s hands instinctively went to his wrist, but she didn’t struggle

She couldn’t.

Not when her body had gone traitorously still.

Not when her breath hitched from something she couldn’t name.

His bare chest pressed against hers, radiating intense heat, too hot, too close. She could feel every breath he took, feel the thudding rhythm of his heart against her ribcage. Hers pounded back in frantic confusion.

This was Kieran Valerius Hunter. The Lycan prince. A creature of lethal instinct. A nightmare dressed in flesh.

She should be afraid.

And she was.

But that wasn’t all.

The space between them was electrified, thick with an invisible charge that clung to her skin and made her pulse race. Her body was confused, no, betraying her. Her chest rose and fell in shallow pants, her knees felt unsteady, her skin flushed.

What was this?

She had no name for it. No understanding.

Just the undeniable, maddening awareness of him.

His skin was flawless, sun-kissed bronze stretched over coiled muscle and ancient strength. His chest was broad, every line of it carved like a sculpture come to life, his shoulders wide and intimidating. His abs rippled as he moved, hard and defined, and a faint trail of dark hair ran from below his navel down into the black pants that hung dangerously low on his hips.

Lorraine’s eyes lingered there a second too long.

Her shame arrived a heartbeat later.

What the hell was wrong with her?

Then Kieran let go.

Lorraine stumbled forward slightly, gulping in air as the pressure on her throat vanished. Kieran stepped back, expression unreadable.

"The next time you keep me waiting," he muttered, his voice like thunder on the edge of a storm, "I might actually rip your throat out."

The lights snapped on.

Lorraine blinked rapidly, her eyes adjusting, and then freezing all over again.

He was still shirtless. Still every bit the threat he had been in the dark, but now bathed in harsh golden light, every inch of his physique was clearer, more impossible. The way his muscles flexed when he reached for the black shirt slung over a chair. The sharp cut of his hips, the faint sheen of sweat across his chest. He was war personified. And far too enticing.

Kieran caught her staring.

A smirk lifted the corner of his mouth. "If you keep staring like that," he said, slipping into the shirt slowly, deliberately, "you might just start drooling."

"I wasn’t staring," Lorraine snapped, voice higher than intended as she yanked her eyes away.

"Sure," he said lazily, buttoning his shirt without looking

Her cheeks burned.

She crossed her arms and looked anywhere but at him.

Kieran walked past her, the heat of his body brushing hers again. Even clothed, his presence filled the room like fire and smoke.

"Come on," he said. "We’re late."

Lorraine frowned. "Late for what?"

He paused at the door and looked over his shoulder. The amusement in his eyes had dimmed now, replaced by something harder. Something colder.

"Somewhere important."

And with that, the door opened.

I stepped out of the study room, heart still hammering in my chest from what just happened. Kieran didn’t even spare me a glance. He just started walking..... no, storming, down the hall like he owned the damn place. Which, I suppose, he kind of did.

I had to jog to keep up with him, my legs aching, my ribs sore, my head still pounding from earlier. He didn’t slow down. Of course not. Lycans weren’t built for mercy. Especially not this one.

"Where are we going?" I asked, breathless, trying not to sound as exhausted as I felt.

Silence.

I tried again. "Kieran—"

"Keep up." His voice was sharp. Cold. "You’re my servant now. You need to learn how to walk beside me, not behind me like a whimpering stray."

I stopped for half a second, the words slicing through me like blades. Servant. Stray.

I clenched my fists and forced my legs to move. My entire body screamed for rest, but I didn’t give it the satisfaction. I wouldn’t fall behind. Not now. Not in front of him

The hallway stretched endlessly ahead of us, dark and quiet, save for the echo of our footsteps. Mine frantic. His calm. Like he hadn’t just threatened to rip out my throat a few minutes ago. Like pinning me to a wall had been just another normal thing for him

I hated how easily he could throw my world off balance.

When we finally stopped, I was panting hard, barely able to stand upright. I looked up, and I was confused. We were standing in front of the administrative building, cold, imposing, with its high arched doors and intricate black stone walls.

"What... what are we doing here?" I managed, wiping the sweat from my my brow.

Kieran finally turned to look at me, his silver eyes glinting beneath the moonlight. "We’re going to Astrid Voss’s office."

I blinked. "Why? Do you intend on helping me get justice for my people?"

He didn’t answer at first. He just stared at the door, jaw clenched.

"She’s your enemy Lorraine Anderson, not mine," he said finally. "And I told you before, I don’t care about justice for the ferals."

My heart twisted. I wanted to yell at him. Scream. How could he say that after everything that happened?

But before I could say anything, he added, "But this is my territory. This Academy is my turf right now. And I don’t like when things happen on my turf without my knowledge. If Astrid Voss is hiding something from me, then I intend to find out."

His voice had changed. Still cold, still sharp, but there was something underneath it. A quiet, simmering fury. And not the kind that burned for justice, but for control. Power.

I stared at him, unsure how to respond. Part of me wanted to argue. Remind him that ferals died. That this wasn’t just about turf. But another part of me, the part that still had blood on her hands and grief in her bones, was just relieved someone like him wanted to dig deeper. Even if it wasn’t for the right reasons.

"So this isn’t about helping me," I said quietly. "Or the others."

He looked me dead in the eye. "No."

And yet, here we were.

I followed him as he stepped toward the doors. I didn’t know what we were going to find. Maybe nothing. Maybe something worse.

But if Astrid Voss was hiding something, anything, that could explain the deaths, the silence, the cruelty... then I wanted to know. I needed to know.

Even if it meant doing it with the Lycan Prince by my side.

Even if it meant stepping deeper into his world.

Even if it meant getting my hands dirtier than they already were.