Curves And Claws: The Lycan King's Relentless Claim novel Chapter 37

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

**Chapter 37**

“Your Highness, His Majesty requests your presence indoors. The Pack doctor has arrived to evaluate your condition,” Butler Taylor announced, his polite smile unwavering as he approached me. His gloved hands were neatly folded, and his voice had that smooth, rehearsed quality which felt oddly soothing yet unsettling given the weight of my anxiety.

I closed my phone slowly, lingering on the screen as if it held answers to the swirling questions in my mind. How had my parents managed to get my number? The realization twisted in my gut, a knot of confusion and unease that refused to loosen. Anger wasn’t quite the right word; it was more a gnawing curiosity mixed with an unsettling dread that coiled tightly within me.

As I stepped back into the house, the familiar scent of polished wood and faint spices from the kitchen enveloped me like a comforting embrace. Yet, the atmosphere felt charged, thick with unspoken tension. My eyes were drawn to Cassian, who stood near the entrance of his study, surrounded by several unfamiliar men. They were sharply dressed in dark suits, their expressions stony and unreadable, like statues carved from granite. One by one, they slipped silently into the study, merging seamlessly with the shadows that enveloped the room.

The door clicked shut behind them, leaving only Carolyn and Healer Asroh lingering in the hallway. Veronica, usually a steady presence at my side, was conspicuously absent. A flicker of concern—or perhaps irritation—flashed through me. Where could she have gone?

“Your Highness,” Healer Asroh greeted me gently, his voice a balm to my frayed nerves. His face bore the creases of age, a testament to years of wisdom and experience. “May I examine your hand?”

“Of course,” I replied, extending my bandaged arm toward him, feeling a mix of vulnerability and trust.

His touch was both gentle and firm as he rotated my wrist, his fingers probing lightly at my nails. He hummed thoughtfully, his brow furrowing as he assessed my injury. “The antidote you took last night was the most effective option. Please ensure you take it again. It’s crucial for your recovery.”

“Alright,” I murmured, my voice almost lost in the air.

“And please don’t skip your meals. You must eat more fruit. You’ve lost a significant amount of blood, and it will take time for you to regain your strength,” he advised, his eyes sincere.

“I will,” I promised, nodding earnestly.

He straightened, bowing slightly before excusing himself, the soft rustle of his robes fading down the hall.

Carolyn stepped forward, her practiced grace on full display. Her hair was perfectly styled, and her smile had a sweetness that felt dangerously deceptive. “How are you feeling?” she inquired, her tone warm but laced with an underlying sharpness.

I hesitated, not wanting to engage, yet the weight of politeness pressed down on me. “Much better,” I replied, keeping my tone neutral.

“I see,” she said, her eyes flicking to my arm, a subtle glint of curiosity in her gaze. “What exactly happened to you last night? Where were you with Cassian?”

Her question, though softly spoken, carried an edge that cut through my defenses.

“Why do you ask?” I countered, tilting my head slightly to meet her gaze. “Are you concerned I might take my husband on some illicit adventure?”

For a fleeting moment, surprise flitted across her features, breaking the facade she wore. But she quickly masked it, her lips curling into a playful smirk. “I can’t stop you lovebirds from getting into mischief. You’re young and in love, after all.” She sighed dramatically, as if reminiscing about her own lost youth.

“Anyway, what would you like to eat today? Let’s share a meal together. Cassian will join us too!”

Ah, Cassian. The invisible thread connecting her actions to his decisions was unmistakable. It seemed he had insisted she prepare my meal as well.

“I’m not picky. Whatever’s fine,” I replied, already moving toward the stairs, eager to escape her probing gaze.

Her sudden shift in demeanor sent a chill creeping down my spine. Sweetness like hers always came with a hidden cost. Keeping my distance wasn’t cowardice; it was a necessary form of self-preservation.

Once upstairs, I closed the door behind me and leaned against it for a moment, exhaling slowly. The room was infused with a faint scent of lavender mixed with Cassian’s cologne—a combination that felt both comforting and foreign. A shower was in order to clear the fog clouding my mind. I let the warm water cascade over me, watching the steam rise until the mirror fogged over.

I found myself yearning for my old studio with the café—the clinking of cups, the aroma of fresh bread, sunlight streaming through the windows. Those small comforts now felt like distant memories, symbols of a freedom I could hardly remember. But returning to that life seemed impossible now, especially with my parents having my number. They might show up just to see me.

I lay down for a quick nap, but sleep eluded me, my thoughts drifting aimlessly until I finally slipped into a shallow slumber.

When I awoke, my stomach growled loudly, breaking the silence. Blinking open my eyes, still hazy from sleep, I was startled to find Cassian sitting on the couch, engrossed in reading documents. He hadn’t looked up, but his presence filled the room with an undeniable warmth. Dark hair fell over his eyes as he flipped through the pages with a deliberate smoothness.

He must have heard my stomach. Without lifting his gaze, his voice came out calm and steady. “Lunch is ready. You can go eat.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks. He had been here the entire time, while I had assumed he was locked away in his study with officials.

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