Curves And Claws: The Lycan King's Relentless Claim novel Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Cassian.

For the first time in a decade—ten long years—I slept deeply, as if I were lifeless. Nine uninterrupted hours of rest, free from the usual torment and restlessness that had haunted me for so long.

I had always heard tales about this phenomenon: the scent of a mate would intoxicate you, ensnare you like a drug, and calm your restless soul. But I never believed such stories. Throughout my thirty years, I dismissed them as mere superstition.

I was certain that no one in this cursed world could soothe my Lycan, much less grant him peaceful sleep.

Yet yesterday changed everything. Every ounce of skepticism and pride I harbored about this so-called mate’s scent shattered completely. While she sat there, wasting breath on self-loathing, despising her very existence, convincing herself she could never be anyone’s priority, my Lycan was awakening—hungry, feral. He craved her with a fierce intensity. He wanted to sink his teeth into her skin, to claim her utterly, and to tear apart anyone foolish enough to even glance her way.

Her scent—just one scent—Jasmine—burned through my lungs like smoke from fires burning in the dead of night. I had never encountered anyone whose scent was so pure, so sharp, so unblemished. Others carried scents layered with floral notes tangled in musk, or citrus tainted by desperation. But hers?

Only Jasmine. As if she had been born to carry it.

She was direct, brutally honest, and above all, fearless. No one had ever met my gaze without trembling, yet she held my stare firmly, as if commanding it, as if she owned it.

Other she-wolves would have clung to me like desperate dogs in heat. But not her. She understood the gravity of what she faced and met it on equal terms.

I needed a woman like her—not some pathetic soul who would shake, beg, and act pitiful for my attention.

“She really is something, isn’t she?” my Lycan, Cyrus, growled, his voice thick with hunger. “She looks like a doll, but one without an ounce of fear.”

I let out a humorless chuckle. Doll, yes—fragile in appearance but not in spirit. Her hazel eyes cut sharper than blades, and her lips were ripe, like the succulent segments inside a tangerine.

“Did you notice how she never acted like she didn’t know us? I expected her to be scared, to pretend she didn’t recognize us. But she didn’t hide who she was. I just love her,” Cyrus purred, hunger still echoing in his tone. His mind replayed every moment from yesterday’s encounter.

“Your Majesty! There you are! Good morning!”

The voice of Lorenzo interrupted my thoughts as he entered my chamber carrying a tray of breakfast and a stack of files. My mood soured immediately when I saw the weight of papers in his hands.

“You seem to be in an excellent mood today, Your Majesty. Did you forget you were supposed to meet the Alphas from Sea Origin?”

I fixed him with a cold, steel-like glare. “Do I look like I forgot? Cancel it. I have other matters to attend to.”

Reaching for my robe, I was stopped as Lorenzo grabbed it first and helped me put it on. I allowed it, though irritation bubbled beneath the surface—I could have ripped his hand away without hesitation.

“I don’t know what you’re planning, Your Majesty, but now is not the time for trouble. The conflict between the two regions has escalated.”

“I said cancel it,” I repeated, my voice dropping into a dangerous calm. “If I create trouble, those foolish enough to provoke me will drown in it. That’s not my concern.”

Lorenzo’s jaw clenched tightly. “When will you decide to take a Luna to support you? The former Beta’s daughter has done everything to earn your favor. Maybe it’s time to give her a chance—”

“I already chose.”

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