Curves And Claws: The Lycan King's Relentless Claim novel Chapter 33

**Fireflies in Winter Rain — Neil A. Varma 33**

**Chapter 33**

Cassian,

“What’s wrong with her?” I asked, urgency lacing my voice as I transitioned back to my human form. The weight of worry pressed heavily on my chest, and yet before I could make any sudden movements, Asroh insisted that I promise to allow him to shift back after he had treated her.

Reluctantly, I agreed, fully aware that Cyrus’s colossal wolf form would barely fit in the cramped confines of the healer’s home.

Healer Asroh, a man of middle age who had been our trusted healer for many years, scrutinized Roana’s injury with a meticulous gaze. His brow furrowed deeply, and his lips pressed into a thin line of concentration before he finally met my anxious eyes. “The wound should have been stitched, but surprisingly, it’s healing rather quickly. However, the arrow has caused damage to some veins. Thankfully, whoever applied the bandage did a commendable job. Otherwise, we might have faced the grim prospect of amputation.”

My jaw tightened, the muscles clenching as I balled my fists at my sides, a tempest of anger and fear swirling within me.

“Then why on earth is she burning up? Look at her nails; they’re turning blue!” I demanded, my voice slicing through the thick tension in the air, leaving no room for hesitation or delay.

Asroh explained cautiously, “It was a bit late when she received treatment. The nails were the first to exhibit symptoms. But it’s stabilizing now. She’s taken antidotes, and the fever is a side effect of the medicine.” He carefully injected her with something, his fingers trembling slightly under the weight of my intense gaze. “I’m administering painkillers and fever reducers. Her wolf is actively battling the poison; she should be alright by tomorrow.”

A sharp breath escaped me, a rush of relief mingling with my worry. She looked utterly drained—her skin pale and clammy with sweat, her lips trembling faintly with each shallow breath she took.

But then—

“Your Majesty!” Asroh’s voice wavered with uncertainty as he glanced nervously between me and Roana. “Who is she? It’s the first time I’ve seen your Lycan go feral over anyone!” He didn’t hesitate to voice his astonishment.

It was true. I had never witnessed Cyrus display such ferocity for anyone—not even for my first love. Well, my first love. Cyrus had tolerated her presence, even agreeing to mark her if it brought me happiness. But this was the first instance where he openly defied my authority, taking matters into his own paws.

“This is Roana Milestones. My Luna.”

Asroh froze mid-action, pressing cotton gently against her skin. His eyes widened, his mouth agape in shock as he darted glances between me and Roana. “Since when, Your Majesty?”

A cold, half-smile crept onto my lips. “Why does it concern you?”

Suddenly, Cyrus growled low and dangerously, shifting only his head, the rumble reverberating through the room. “Why does it matter to you?”

The healer’s breath caught in his throat, and he immediately dropped to his knees, bowing his head in submission. “My apologies, Your Majesty! I was merely surprised!”

“Keep your surprise to yourself. I want to take her home, Cassian. I don’t trust him,” Cyrus pressed into my mind, his restlessness palpable.

“Calm down, Cyrus!” I commanded firmly, my voice as unyielding as steel. “She needs the IV drip. Also… Healer Asroh, we haven’t made it official yet, but she is my mate—legally married to me. So be mindful of how you address her in the future.”

“Certainly. I would never dare to disrespect our Luna.” He bowed again, this time toward Roana, who remained asleep, her chest rising and falling with shallow, rapid breaths.

“I want to take her home. This room reeks of some foul scent. She should only have my scent,” Cyrus insisted, his urgency pressing against my consciousness, demanding to shift.

I exhaled heavily through gritted teeth, knowing full well that he wouldn’t allow me any peace tonight. “We’re taking her home with us.”

“Understood, Your Majesty! I will accompany you to properly set the IV drip.”

I nodded, lifting Roana carefully into my arms. Her body was searing hot, fever coursing through her fragile frame. My grip instinctively tightened as I held her close. Truthfully, I didn’t want to leave her alone—not merely because I couldn’t sleep without her scent, but because the thought of anyone else’s scent mingling with hers set my blood ablaze. The earlier encounter with Sean left a bitter taste in my mouth.

And I couldn’t grasp why. Why did I feel so disturbed when all I had ever acknowledged was the contract between us? We didn’t love each other. Yes, our mate bond was robust, but both of us had managed to maintain our boundaries without crossing lines.

We soon arrived home, Roana still cradled in my arms. As I stepped inside, my eyes immediately found Carolyn, who was engaged in conversation with Lorenzo. Her face was pale with worry, and the moment our eyes locked, her lips trembled, tears pooling in her gaze as she rushed toward me. But she froze the instant she noticed Roana in my arms.

“What’s going on?” Her voice sharpened with disdain. “Why are you carrying her like that? Where have you been?”

Her questions came fast and sharp, like needles piercing the air. Her eyes narrowed with contempt as they flicked over Roana’s unconscious form, as if she were nothing more than dirt.

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