Curves And Claws: The Lycan King's Relentless Claim novel Chapter 14

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Chapter 14

Roana,

The car ride was enveloped in a heavy silence, the kind that presses down on your chest and feels like the eerie stillness before a snowstorm unleashes its fury. The only sounds were the gentle hum of the engine and the occasional crunch of tires rolling over the wet pavement. I sat there, clad in pajamas, stripped of every familiar comfort—my phone left behind at home, Candy forgotten in another place. Without her, it felt as though a fragment of my heart had been ripped away and abandoned somewhere far behind me.

I rested my hand on my lap, attempting to anchor myself in the moment, but the weight in my chest only intensified. A suffocating sense of being trapped gnawed at me, like a child confined, yearning desperately to taste the freedom life promised but refused to grant.

Taking a slow, deep breath, I gazed out the window as the world outside blurred past in muted shades. The forest closed in on us, tall trees whispering secrets as we sped through their midst, but their presence offered no comfort. Instead, they felt like towering walls—endless, impenetrable barriers I could never hope to climb. Once again, the harsh truth settled over me: I was ensnared, caught in a cage of my own making and circumstance.

“I won’t go back on my word,” Cassian’s voice cut sharply through my spiraling thoughts.

—

His tone was low and resolute, edged with a hardness that made the air between us feel even heavier. I turned to meet his gaze, and found his dark, commanding eyes fixed on me. They didn’t simply look; they pierced through me, as if he could see every secret I was desperately trying to keep hidden. And in that moment, I knew—he read my mind.

“I won’t cage you, nor be a barrier to your freedom,” he said, his voice colder than usual, each word clipped and forced, like a man wrestling with an unwilling truth. It sounded like he had made a painful decision—that keeping his distance was the only way to survive being near me. Perhaps he understood that my spirit longed for freedom and that he could never hold it captive. Or maybe, beneath it all, he respected me.

I dropped my eyes, a tightness constricting my throat. Of course. I had managed to anger His Majesty.

“It’s fine,” I murmured, trying to steady my trembling voice. “Life has its own way of imprisoning the soul.” I slumped against the armrest, drained and hollow, as if even sitting upright demanded too much energy.

I no longer knew how to make sense of anything. My heart was tangled in a chaotic web of emotions—raw hatred toward Alexander, sharp and painful, yet tangled with a deeper, more persistent ache I couldn’t shake. The most piercing sting was a quiet disappointment: the bitter realization that I had never truly been loved. Every whispered word in the dead of night, every moment of reassurance, every stolen second with Alexander where I believed I was cherished—had all been nothing but lies.

But I loved him. That truth refused to be denied. My feelings for Alexander were pure and honest, perhaps even foolish. He was my first taste of love—the fragile light in a world I feared would remain shrouded in darkness forever.

I recalled those quiet afternoons in my study, watching animated stories unfold on the screen. Tales where children stumbled into innocent love, where girls blushed at their first crush, where heroines were treasured and protected. I had once thought it silly, but deep inside, I craved that kind of affection—to be loved without condition, to be chosen.

Yet the years passed, and no one came. I grew older, and while others savored the sweetness of young love, I learned the bitterness of being overlooked.

Then Alexander entered my life. The man I was to marry, bound to me by duty and fate. Still, I gave him everything—my heart, my trust, my loyalty. Everything.

And now, here I sat beside my mate—five long years together—and all I felt was emptiness.

The man fate had tied me to—

Whom I hadn’t seen in twenty days—

At the end of it all, no matter how much I gave, I had never been truly loved. That thought echoed relentlessly inside me, a cruel truth I couldn’t escape. Maybe it was destiny. Maybe love was never meant for me.

I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, the car’s interior filled with the scent of wildflowers and fresh wood.

Cassian’s scent was raw and overpowering, wrapping around me like a physical presence. It was a bitter irony: here I was, mourning the end of a love that had never truly belonged to me, sitting next to the mate who was supposed to hold me, cherish me, and build the future the Goddess had destined for us. Yet even to him, I was just another face—temporary, expendable, a mere side character in his story.

So be it. If love had never chosen me, then I would choose myself. For once, I would be the guardian of my own heart. I would refuse to let anyone wound me again.

The car slowed as we approached a towering entrance gate. Beyond it stretched the vast territory of the Lycan King.

Curiosity flickered despite the heaviness in my chest as I turned to look out the window. His land was unlike anything I had ever seen—not like my own pack’s home, nor like Alexander’s domain. It was alive, vibrant, and breathtaking.