Curves And Claws: The Lycan King's Relentless Claim novel Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Cassian,

“Bastard!” Cyrus’s voice thundered inside my mind, raw and uncontrollable with fury. “How dare you raise your voice and frighten our mate?” His anger clawed at the walls of my consciousness, restless and biting, as if he wanted to tear his way free from my skull.

I didn’t respond. Silence was my only defense against his rage. I leaned heavily against the edge of the desk, my fingers digging in until the wood groaned beneath my grip. My gaze remained fixed on the doorway where she had just disappeared, her retreating figure swallowed by the shadows beyond. My chest rose and fell in slow, measured breaths, but beneath the surface, every vein in my body simmered with heat.

My fingers twisted in frustration—not at her, but at myself. Why had I lost control so abruptly? Why had I snapped at her like some wild, reckless pup unable to manage his instincts?

I could still hear the sharpness in my own voice, the way she had flinched, the shock widening her eyes.

Cyrus spat curses again, furious that I had driven her away in favor of another woman.

Carolyn’s face flickered through my thoughts—the hatred etched in her gaze when she looked at Roana, the way she didn’t even bother to mask her disdain. Roana hadn’t been lying when she said Carolyn disliked her.

I remained rooted to the spot, silent, forcing myself to sort through the tangled emotions. Carolyn and I shared a history deeper than most bonds. She was the only one who had stood by me when I was utterly alone. My parents—both Alphas, both proud, both merciless—had abandoned me. My father carried the Lycan gene, and fate had marked me as its bearer. But in their eyes, that was never a blessing.

Whispers circulated that Lycans were superior to wolves—stronger, more feared. But superiority meant nothing when acceptance was withheld. No one wanted a Lycan to lead them. The day my beast surfaced, I ceased to be their son. To them, I was a mistake, a stain on their perfect bloodline.

Their pride rested in my brother—their chosen Alpha King, the firstborn who fit seamlessly into their world, a world I never belonged to.

At sixteen, they left me behind. They forged a new life, a new Pack built around him, and slammed the door shut on me without a second thought. I became nothing more than a forgotten memory.

That was when Carolyn’s family stepped in. They steadied me when I was on the verge of collapse. They stood beside me when the weight of the crown threatened to crush my spirit. At sixteen, they helped me rise to a throne I had never been prepared to claim.

But Carolyn herself—she was always there. More than a friend, she was the one who reminded me I wasn’t alone, who urged me to stand when I wanted to fall.

Over time, I grew accustomed to protecting her, placing her above all others. She was the only family I had left after her younger sister. And habits—especially those forged in blood and survival—were not easily broken.

Even so, now she stood opposed to Roana. Opposed to my mate. And I understood why: Roana had taken her sister’s place.

I drew in a deep breath, though my fury refused to settle.

Voices drifted into the room, breaking the heavy silence. I tensed, ears straining. Roana and Keane—outside the door.

My jaw clenched tightly. Keane—my left hand, my most trusted blade—was a man of few words, a man who had never let a woman close. He had rejected his fated mate without hesitation, believing family was a distraction, a waste of time.

Yet now, he spoke to Roana with a softness I had never heard before. Inviting her to walk with him?

“If you don’t mind, would you like to have breakfast with me? Clearly, you haven’t eaten,” Keane said, his tone laced with something that made my blood boil anew.

The muscles in my jaw tightened until I feared they might snap. She hadn’t eaten?

“It’s fine, Commander Keane,” Roana replied, her voice steady but cold and distant. “I’m not hungry. And if possible, please let your King know I may reconsider my role in this household.”

My eyes widened—a rare crack in my composure. Reconsider her role? What was she trying to say? She had agreed to it, promised she would do it. Now she wanted to change her mind? Just because I had lost my temper once?

The air felt thick and suffocating. I stood frozen, every muscle taut, until her footsteps echoed away, each one pulling her further from me. My wolf howled inside, demanding I follow her, demanding I drag her back until she gave me answers and I could apologize.

Cyrus cursed my hesitation, snarling for me to stop her. “Ask for forgiveness! You idiot!” he growled.

I nearly flung the door open, ready to storm out and confront her. But before I could move, Keane’s voice cut through the silence.

“Your Majesty. May I come in?”

I clenched my jaw, swallowing the fury rising in my throat. “Yes. Enter.”

I returned to my desk, lowering myself into the chair with a deliberate calm that masked the storm raging within. My posture radiated authority. My gaze was sharp enough to pierce steel.

Keane stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind him. His movements were measured, disciplined. Though he approached with his usual composure, I caught a subtle shift in his expression—a heaviness in his eyes.

“I have submitted all the belongings to Her Highness, and—”

“How long have you known her?” I interrupted, my voice cold and commanding.

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