The Lycan King's Forbidden Craving - Chapter 225: Chapter 225

When her bloodline was first exposed, Selene had once talked about Brigid. The head maid was worried that the girl she took in as a daughter might be facing some challenges.
“Brigid has always been the type to stay away from people. Stubborn but soft-hearted. Ever since her parents died, she’s hardly been able to get used to people. Hardly likes or lives, but once she does—she gets obsessed.”
Even though Arianna had been mad about what Brigid did, for Selene's sake, she slightly understood her.
Soft clicks echoed as Arianna’s boots stopped in front of the sobbing Brigid, who had her hands clamped over her ears.
Nyra's words echoed in her head. Perhaps by doing this, it would set Brigid free from the cruel chain she called love and teach her to live again. That is, if she ever healed—something that might be the hardest thing to do.
She had been there. Had loved wrong before. Blind to see the cracks, even when they were slightly obvious.
Arianna outstretched a hand to Brigid, who slowly looked up at her—cheeks wet with tears, eyes red and carved by deep pain.
"Let's go. Until they finish," Arianna said, Toran's dying screams echoing behind them.
Before Brigid could take her hand, the mage cleared his throat.
"I'm sorry, Lady Arianna. She has to witness it all… it's part of the ritual."
Arianna shot a glare at him over her shoulder.
Brigid gently tugged on her clothing. “It's okay. I… can take it.”
Arianna stood. “Hold my hand, then.”
Brigid took her hand and stood but flinched at the gruesome sight. Toran was staring at her—betrayal, regret, guilt, and love all swirling in those teary eyes.
Brigid forced herself to focus on that. Just that.
•••••••••
{Dragon realm}
Lylah stepped into the room to check on Lucas. He was lying there, staring at the ceiling with an arm draped over his face.
Lucas opened his eyes, barely. “Lylah,” he said, sitting up, his trembling hands clenching.
“Are you alright?” Lylah asked, dropping the tools she had used to farm with the others.
“Yes… I am.”
“Liar. It's full moon.”
He met her gaze, jaw tightening. “I can take it.”
“Bullshit,” she muttered. “You really have to keep doing this?”
He stared at her for many beats of silence before finally speaking.
“Why do I feel like you're still mad at me?”
Lylah stiffened and blinked. “Why would you say that?”
“For the past few days, you've been taking care of me, but barely here. You refuse to talk about yourself, pushing me to either Rheal or the others to spend time with. You got yourself way too busy with farming, refusing to let me join you. Whenever I mention going back to the moon realm, you avoid it.”
“That's because you need to heal completely, and we have to wait until Arianna sends a message.”
“That's not it, Lylah. You know it,” he said, voice soft. He stood and approached her with slow steps. “Either you're still mad at me or something happened to you in the moon realm.”
He stopped in front of her. “Something you won’t tell me.”
“Nothing really,” she said, shifting. “You're mistaken. I was just a prisoner and… I was saved by Lord Atheon and the Ouroboros.”
Lucas watched her, as if her eyes would be the ones to tell the story.
She had easily told Arianna the whole thing about what happened, but with Lucas—she didn’t know why she kept hesitating.
He moved closer, his built frame towering over hers. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Electricity spread across her skin, stealing her breath.
“Whatever happened to you, I'm really sorry, little wolf.”
“Don’t call me that,” she whispered before she could stop herself.
His body tensed. She immediately looked up to explain.
“I mean… I haven’t heard someone call me that… in a long time. I… didn't mean it in a weird way.”
“Someone called you little wolf besides me?”
Her jaw dropped. Fuck.
“I mean… it’s been years since I heard that… I… just don’t really know.”
He crooked his neck, lifting a hand and trailing a finger along her shoulder.
“Yet, you have that name branded on your skin.”
Wait—how did he—
She turned her head to her left shoulder. The cloak had slipped loose, revealing that part. She quickly covered it back up.
“That… I… I'm just here to satisfy your rut. I can feel my heat creeping in…”
“I don’t want tonight to be about just our rut and heat. I want it to be me and you.”
He shifted even closer, causing the remaining words to hang on her throat. Her breath seized as she felt the cold wall against her back.
“They told me how you spent days and nights by my side while I was unconscious. How you endured my terrifying state and saved me from the death sleep. And now that I’m in front of you…” his voice dropped lower, as if the words hurt, “why are you pushing me away?”
Lylah’s mouth opened and closed, then she swallowed, not sure how to start.
“I just… uh… I don’t know what you’ll think of me. A lot happened, Lucas.”
His lips tugged slightly. “Whatever version of you—I don’t mind. You’ll still be that little stubborn wolf that stalked me, called me hers, and wouldn’t stop being in my head.”
She blinked. “You… thought about me?”
“A lot,” he muttered.
Butterflies flooded her stomach.
“So let me see you, Lylah. Your scars.”
“W-What scars?” She held her cloak tighter. How did he know that?
“The ones you're hiding beneath that cloak you always wear. I tried to wait until you opened up, but it turns out I’m not really that patient. Not with our bond driving me crazy,” his voice was smooth, pulsing through her veins. “I want to see them.”
The bond had driven her crazy too. She couldn’t count the number of times she had wanted to run into his arms, kiss him, and let herself drown in the pleasure of his touch.
“No… I killed a lot of people, Lucas. I did dark things I’m not proud of. They—” she paused, catching her breath. “They remind me of it.”
“Even if you became the devil, Lylah, I would still draw you into my arms. That’s how crazy I am when it comes to you… I just didn’t realize that sooner.”
Lylah felt a warm tear slide down her cheek. He reached up and wiped it away with his thumb.
“I’ve got scars myself. Fought strong Lycan rogues one season and got deeply wounded. Sometimes… I let it happen.”
She sniffled. “Why?”
If he had a scar, then the wound must have been really critical.
“It was a long time ago. I was still healing from Mother’s death. I took it out on myself… out of guilt. Duncan was mad at me for a whole week,” he explained. “It’s part of us. Whether they bring bad memories, they’re what shaped us. Whether inside or outside.”
She had never heard much about him. Hearing him speak about his past for the first time made her heart warm. Now she was curious to see his scar too.
“Let me see you,” he whispered. “Not because I want to count them, but because I want to heal them.”