The Lycan King's Forbidden Craving - Chapter 167: Chapter 167

Lord Valoreth stood frozen, jaw slack. The goblet in his hand would have fallen if he hadn’t gathered himself in the next second.
Lord Damaris wore the same expression, the color drained from his face.
Both ancient Lycans stared at the messenger, who had just finished reading from the small scroll, their eyes wide as if waiting for him to laugh and admit it was a fucking joke.
“Are you certain?” Damaris finally managed to speak.
“Yes, my Lord—” the messenger’s words were cut off as Valoreth snatched the paper, its sympathetic ink revealed, from his hands.
Reading through it, anger flared through Valoreth’s bones and he smashed his goblet against the nearest wall, sending its pieces scattering.
“Fuucckkk!!!” he roared, raking his thick, long brown hair back.
Damaris was barely holding himself together, his fists clenched with rage.
Valoreth cursed under his breath over and over, searching for something else to destroy but, finding nothing, forced himself to stay calm.
“Could that be a trick? We all saw the mark on her wasn't complete. How is that possible?” Valoreth asked more to himself than to the others present in the room.
Silence and tension clouded the air.
“We’ll lose the game if she steps out and manages to convince many. I mean, she’s really good with words,” Damaris said.
“Fuck,” Valoreth muttered.
A knock sounded, breaking their conversation.
“My Lord. Lady Mearina is here,” came the announcement.
Within minutes, Valoreth stepped into the luxurious room, meeting his wife’s raging gaze.
She rose from her chair, walked toward him, and without warning, struck him across the face.
Her personal maid almost gasped but quickly shut her mouth and lowered her head.
Valoreth’s eyes dilated, a low guttural sneer vibrating through his throat.
“Cor Triantha? You bastards are taking things too far. You're all planning to go through with that disgusting, godforsaken forbidden sacrifice… Cor Triantha? Have you gone insane?!” Mearina yelled.
Swiftly, Lord Valoreth grabbed her neck and slammed her against the wall.
This time, Mearina’s personal maid gasped, her eyes wide.
“First, don’t you ever fucking lay your hands on me again. Second, if anyone hears of this, I’ll make you watch me kill your children and then torture you until your last breath. Why the fuck did you leave the South and come here, huh?! Just take your ass and go back.”
The anger in Mearina’s moist eyes didn’t waver, even as he choked her harder.
“Who is the caster? Is it going to be you?” she struggled to speak,
Lord Valoreth refused to reply. He simply smirked and released her before storming out of the room.
“My lady!” the maid rushed to Mearina, who tried to catch her breath.
“I’m fine, Oren,” Mearina assured, but the middle-aged woman was panicking.
Mearina was nowhere near fine, and Oren had worked for her long enough to know it.
“My children…” Mearina croaked as she slid to the floor. “They’re in trouble. Valoreth could be the caster—and use them for the fucking ritual.”
“What ritual, my lady?” the maid asked, but something else clicked in Mearina’s mind.
“Oren. I need you to do me a favor. The Beta… I need his help. I need to save my children before Valoreth gets to them.”
Oren looked confused.
“I’ll write you a letter. He’ll understand once he reads it. We need to stop him befire things falls apart,” Mearina assured, and the maid nodded.
“Yes, my lady.”
••••••••
LUNARIS CITEDAL.
Ready to work, Lucas stepped into his study with Falcon and halted upon sighting a paper on his desk.
Opening the small sheet, he read:
*I hope you have a great day ahead, dear Grand Handsome Lord. Love, Lylah.*
Lucas folded it back immediately, shut his eyes, and let out a deep breath.
“Did Lylah step into my study?” he asked Falcon.
“She insisted on cleaning the room for you, and I allowed her since she’s done it once before.”
Lucas sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. She might be the end of him.
“Why? Why isn’t she afraid of me after everything I said that night? She should be terrified by those words,” Lucas rambled.
“I… I don’t think Lylah has ever been afraid of anything, my Lord,” Falcon said, and Lucas caught the amused tone laced in his voice.
“Yeah, right,” Lucas clicked his tongue. A girl who broke out of prison and then challenged her captor to a duel, once, definitely doesn’t seem afraid.
“She’s certainly something else. I’ve never met a female like her,” Lucas mumbled.
Falcon snickered behind him. “Me too.”
Lucas looked at him, and Falcon’s smile vanished immediately. The Grand Lord’s stare made him freeze.
“I didn’t mean that… I mean—” he stuttered.
“Don’t you have some work to do, Falcon?” Lucas asked, and the guard’s face paled.
“I’ll take my leave,” he bowed and quickly left.
•••••••••
After finishing his work early, Lucas strode to the barracks, intending to check on the warriors’ training progress.
Well, that wasn’t entirely the original reason… but still.
He just couldn't stop himself.
Training was still ongoing, with an hour left before they called it a day. The warriors were being taught how to properly handle a sword. There were five levels to their training.
Levels one to five, classified according to each warrior’s strength, and all had wolves. Lylah was in level two due to her wolf not being present, but still… it was quite an achievement to be at that stage.
With one look, Lucas could tell Lylah was struggling with sword handling. She had skill with speed, and daggers were simply more suited to her.
But this training was necessary, in case of emergency. A warrior should learn how to use anything as a weapon.
Lylah suddenly flicked her gaze toward Lucas’ direction. From afar, Lucas could tell her face had lit up with excitement.
“My Lord,” the head warrior came to greet him. “You summoned me.”
“How is my student doing?” Lucas asked, and the head warrior smiled.
“She’s doing great. Stubborn but one can't deny her skills. She'll be perfect in no time.”
“Details. And tell me while we take a stroll,” Lucas ordered, and with that, they both walked off.
Lylah, however, rushed to the spot only to find them gone. She had left training and dashed over, ignoring her teacher’s calls.
Yeah, she’s troublesome.
“Lylah Greystone!” her teacher barked.
“I’ll be right there!” Lylah shot back, fully aware she’d be punished for this. Her teacher was probably fed up with her, the poor male might end up developing a fever for days.
Deciding she’d see the Grand Lord after training, she turned to head back—only to come face-to-face with a familiar female.
The woman who had been with Lucas during the full moon.
Lylah’s lips twitched, one brow rising.
“Lylah Greystone,” Yvonne stepped forward, head held high. Her expression wasn’t what Lylah would call friendly.
She was slightly taller than Lylah, clad in a fine grey silk gown that revealed her well-endowed body. She was beautiful. Lylah wouldn’t deny that.
“You know my name,” Lylah said, feigning familiarity.
“Yeah. You’re popular in the Citadel. Everyone knows the eighteen-year-old girl pulling all kinds of stunts.”
Lylah nodded. “Cool. And how may I help you, my Lady?”
“Help?” Yvonne snickered, then her expression dropped to something cold and sharp. She stepped in front of Lylah. “I’m not here for help. I’m here to warn you.”
Lylah blinked, her lips pressed into a thin line.
Yvonne’s voice dropped, low and threatening. “I know you like the Grand Lord. I see the way he looks at you, and that night... I know he left because you showed up all of a sudden. I believe you were once his student. I suggest you don’t cross the line.”
Lylah nodded. “Is that all?” Her voice was calm.
Yvonne continued.
“I’m the only one who can handle him, little one. He doesn’t take a woman twice, but with me—he does. Plenty of times. Because I can take him and scream for him for as long as he wants. Something a wolfless little girl could never do.” Yvonne’s gaze dropped to Lylah’s feet, then slowly lifted back to her face, clearly mocking her.
“So, Lylah Greystone, don’t cross the line.”
Lylah acted as if she were intimidated. “Or… what?”
“Or you’ll pay for it,” Yvonne said through clenched teeth.
“How am I going to pay? You mean, like—money, gold or something?” Lylah raised a brow.
Yvonne scoffed. “Don’t fuck with me. If you don’t know what I mean, then you’re dumb.”
“I think you and I have different definitions of dumb, my Lady,” Lylah said, swinging a finger between them. “Mine would be—threatening an eighteen-year-old girl over some fucked-up obsession.”
Yvonne sneered lowly.
“Control yourself miss. I let you talk. Now it’s my turn.” Lylah stepped forward, ignoring the dangerous pheromones radiating off the female.
She then placed a hand on Yvonne’s shoulder and said:
“There are three things you should know about me, so listen carefully Miss Valkyrie Number Two.”
Yvonne’s brows furrowed at the nickname, but Lylah began to list:
“One—I don’t like you. Two—the Grand Lord is mine. And three—go fuck yourself.” She tapped Yvonne’s shoulder gently once more before walking past her.
Yvonne’s jaw clenched, her eyes glowing yellow, her chest heaving.
“That little—”
She spun around to face Lylah, only to see the young warrior walking backward, both middle fingers raised in the air.
Lylah mouthed:
“Fuck you, cûnt.”