The Lycan King's Forbidden Craving - Chapter 217: Chapter 217

Palace.
Meetings here and there. So many things happening at the same damn time. Valoreth couldn't rest. The more he tried to suppress the secret that had been exposed, the more the fire grew.
The reason? He didn’t know. It was as if someone out there was fueling the flame.
The realm was turning against the seat, and that was the one damn thing he had been trying to avoid. The question was—who?
Was it the leader of the protest, whom he had already sent his soldiers to eliminate?
One of the other Lords of the Emissaries?
One of the palace elites?
Or some invisible enemy he couldn’t pinpoint… and none of this would’ve happened if it weren’t for Toran fucking Venis spilling the beans.
“The king?” Valoreth asked Head Maid Gatha.
“Still imprisoned, my Lord. You haven’t said what to do with him,” she replied, keeping her head low.
“Why are you here anyway?” he shot her a look.
“Mistress Yvonne has gone into labor. I thought to inform you, my Lord.”
Lord Valoreth scoffed. “That information is useless. Get out.”
Gatha bowed, but before leaving, she spoke again. “The queen has woken up.”
Valoreth didn’t respond, so the head maid left to check on the queen, who had regained consciousness thirty minutes earlier.
Brigid lay weak in bed, tended by maids who tried to get her to drink some herbs, she resisted.
“Why did you save me? You should have left me to die,” the queen said weakly.
“You can’t die, my lady,” old Gatha replied. “You still have a purpose to serve in the palace.”
“You mean giving birth so you can kill my children? You old fucking bitch,” Brigid growled. If it weren’t for her condition, she would’ve lashed out and torn the old woman apart.
“The mistress is in labor. She’ll give birth to a girl, and I won’t kill her,” Gatha said, and Brigid’s brows furrowed deeply.
“What… what do you mean?” Her eyes flared. “Why did you kill mine then?!”
Gatha chuckled, her grin twisted and eerie. “Because you chose the wrong side your majesty. You’re simply reaping what you sow. But don’t worry—the mistress has hers coming as well.”
Brigid couldn’t speak until the woman had left.
What in the world did she just say?
•
Meanwhile, Toran was asleep in the prison when a sudden movement stirred in the cell. His eyes flew open, but he saw nothing.
He stood and checked the corridor outside the cell. It was empty. But the air was chilling.
Someone was definitely there. He could sense the aura through his wolf.
“Hello?” he called, only to be met by the echo of his own voice.
The chill in the air doubled, making his heart race for no clear reason.
“Is anyone there?!” he shouted louder. He expected the guards outside the passage gate to respond, but none of them did.
A sheen of sweat trailed down cheek as he swallowed excessive saliva.
“I never expected the almighty, cunning Toran Venis to end up a pawn in someone else’s game.”
The voice was light, soft, powerful—and terrifyingly familiar. He’d recognize it anywhere.
Ever so slowly, Toran turned his head, and his gaze settled on a pair of silver eyes. Cold. Merciless. Taunting.
He barely had time to react before she surged forward, gripping him by the collar. A harsh wind slammed into his skin, forcing his eyes shut. When he opened them again, they were on top of the castle.
Arianna stood there, holding a single rope that marked his fate—one wrong move, and he’d fall from a 150-foot-high brick building.
Toran convulsed.
“Fuuucckk!!! Fuck!!” he screamed, not knowing what terrified him more—Arianna’s ghost or the fact that his bones were about to shatter on impact.
“Missed me?” she asked, a devilish grin playing on her lips.
•
{Dragon realm}
“Has mother sent a letter?” Rheal peeked through Lylah’s window. He did that every single day.
Lylah stepped out to hold him. “She… hasn’t sent a letter yet.”
The boy's smile faltered. Lylah had also been dying to get Arianna’s letter as well.
“But she will soon. I bet.”
Rheal nodded. “I'll go play with Lily so I won’t miss mother very much.”
“Huh? Since when have you been playing with the dragon?”
“Since mother left. Lily is like a source of connection to her. See you around, Auntie,” he ran off before she could speak.
“Be careful! And don’t take too long, it’s getting late!” she shouted.
“Don’t worry, I’ll watch over him.”
Lylah turned to see Cal, then lifted a brow. “Wow, you’ve cut your hair.”
“Yup. It looks better anyway. Thanks for the advice,” he shrugged, and Lylah agreed with a nod. Then he ran off to join Rheal.
Lylah stepped back inside, her eyes settling on unconscious Lucas on the bed around the corner. She had brought him here to take care of him herself. His frame was returning, his once pale skin was beginning to regain its color.
She smiled, preparing herself for bed. She decided to lay beside Lucas this time around, talking about their past and her feelings over the years as if he could hear her.
It helped ease the weight on her chest. Time passed, and she turned to the side, facing Lucas directly. Her fingers reached out to caress the curve of his face. His thick brows, sharp nose, and well-chiseled lips—lips she dreamt of kissing.
The one he gave her that night he left wasn’t enough. She’d seen King Duncan kiss Arianna and had once imagined Lucas doing the same to her.
*We’ll do a lot of kissing once mate wakes up.*
“Must you interrupt my thoughts, Nyx? I thought you were buried in whatever slab you came from, since I haven’t heard from you since morning,” Lylah muttered.
*Is that your way of saying you miss me so damn much you can’t do without me?*
“If I knew inner wolves were this annoying, I wouldn’t have prayed to the goddess for one.”
*I’m you, Lylah. I have your personality. It’s like speaking to yourself, but in another person’s form. Gosh, I’ve said this a million times.*
“Does that mean I’m annoying, stubborn, rebellious, and love saying whatever comes to mind before thinking it through?”
*Yup. That is the definition of Lylah Greystone.*
“Fuck you, Nyx.”
*Fuck you, Lylah.*
“Go back!” she almost screamed and was thankful Nyx recoiled, though with a chuckle that annoyed her. That damn wolf.
She turned back to Lucas, continuing to observe the masterpiece before her. Her mate.
She giggled at the thought and then sat up to pressed a kiss to his cheek. She wrapped her arms around his large one.
“Goodnight. I hope you wake up tomorrow,” she muttered and slowly shut her eyes.
The night felt short. The morning sun peeked through her window, kissing her face.
Lylah groaned in resistance and rolled to the other side, not wanting to rise yet, but her brows furrowed with the reminder that she had lain in the same bed with Lucas—and the other side felt empty.
Her eyes flew open wide. The other side was indeed empty.
She rose from the bed in haste, to check if he hadn’t rolled off to the ground, but that was empty as well.
“Is he—” she paled. Grabbing her cloak, she stormed out of the room.
Her eyes frantically darted around the place, searching. She ran around, wanting to scream his name but halted when she heard:
“You’re the dying master,” a feminine voice said excitedly.
“Oh, I know you won’t remember me, but I did brush your hair every morning… once,” another feminine voice added.
Then she sighted them. Four female Ouroboros surrounding a male who looked so confused as he stared at them with bewilderment.
Under normal circumstances, she would have flared at the females drooling over him, but not now—not with the overwhelming emotions at the sight of him.
He seemed to sense her and turned to meet her gaze. Her heart skipped a beat, eyes tearing up immediately.
“Lylah?” he whispered, and the tears flowed down.
Lylah couldn’t believe her eyes and ears.
“Lucas,” she croaked.
He stepped forward, and she didn’t wait to do the same.
Her body crashed into his in a deep hug, face buried in his chest. She cried, chest heaving as emotions bubbled inside her.
“You’re finally awake… you’re awake..."