Curves And Claws: The Lycan King's Relentless Claim novel Chapter 9

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Chapter 9

It was as if a violent storm had just passed when His Majesty finally chose to depart. Strangely, he seemed at peace in my presence, as if my scent had calmed him. That closeness felt almost too personal, too intimate to be comfortable.

Especially coming from the very man who had confided in me that his woman was held captive by his enemies.

Yet, I wasn’t the least bit saddened by that revelation. Whether he called me his mate or not, I never wanted to be the one chosen over someone truly loved. If Alexander had been honest with me from the start, perhaps I would have quietly walked away long ago.

Still, during that last hour watching him sleep in the quiet café, I couldn’t deny the pull I felt toward him. Who wouldn’t be drawn to someone like Alexander? He was undeniably stunning—tall, handsome, with chiseled features that made hearts skip a beat. That alone was enough to captivate anyone. And then there was the deep, cold timbre of his voice, those piercing red eyes that seemed to glow, and the scent he carried—the woody, musky aroma infused with something lethal and raw, like blood itself. His very essence screamed Warlord.

I tried to keep my feelings in check, drawing a line between self-love and harsh reality. No matter his words or how much he claimed to need me, at the end of the day, people gravitate toward beauty, perfection, and brilliance.

And I had none of that. This wasn’t me boasting or complaining—it was a simple truth I reminded myself of daily.

After closing the café that night, I left without overthinking my plans. To me, the comfort of a warm meal, a few episodes of dramas on my phone, and the softness of my bed held far more importance than worrying about what tomorrow might bring.

That night, I slept deeply—no nightmares, no restless dreams—just the quiet embrace of my cozy bed.

But the next morning, my peace shattered when the doorbell rang incessantly. Irritation flared inside me as I swung open the door, ready to shout at whoever dared disturb me.

Instead, I froze.

There stood my landlord on the porch, her hair tousled and pajama-clad, her face etched with worry—as if she had just glimpsed a demon.

“Sorry to bother you at this hour, Ms. Roana. It’s urgent!” she said breathlessly.

The word “urgent” made me fully alert. I took in her disheveled state—clearly, she had just gotten out of bed herself.

Before I could ask what was going on, a figure appeared behind me.

My eyes widened in shock as I recognized her immediately. How could I not? She boldly exposed her pregnant belly to the world, as if announcing to everyone that she was expecting.

“Hope I didn’t come at a bad time, Luna Roana,” she said with a sly smile.

Utter disbelief washed over me. I was stunned beyond words. I had heard of some people having the audacity to act like they owned everything, but this woman was on a whole different level.

“Seems like you don’t recognize me well,” she said, brushing past my landlord, who quickly retreated as if chased by a ghost, and locked eyes with me.

I caught the foul scent of Alexander lingering on her skin. But mingled with it was another man’s scent.

“I’m Emily Bennett,” she declared proudly. “I am your husband’s mate and the mother of his child.” She extended her hand for a handshake.

I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms over my chest. “Oh, I remember that face. The mistress who’s been spreading her legs for my husband,” I scoffed. “So, what brings you here?”

Her face darkened as she withdrew her hand and clenched it into a fist. “Can we talk?” she asked, her sweet facade slipping to reveal a stern edge.

“Oh, sure. I wouldn’t want a heavily pregnant woman standing in my doorway all day,” I said, stepping aside and motioning her in. “Please, come in. Sit wherever you like. It’s not like you need permission to use someone else’s garbage.”

“Are you always this bitter?” she snarled suddenly. “Let’s talk like adults.”

I laughed softly, heading toward the kitchen. “I thought you were far from being an adult. Adults don’t sleep with married men.”

“I know!” she snapped. “But since it happened, instead of running away, you should deal with it—with your husband.”

I turned, grabbed my instant coffee, and poured the granules into warm water. “And who exactly are you to tell me how to handle things?”

Her teeth clenched tightly, her frustration barely contained. “My son needs a permanent home. Since you’re the Luna and not his mother, he’ll be cast aside by the pack. So come back and fix this.”

I sat down on the couch, sipping my coffee slowly as I watched her audacity unfold. “What was your name again?”

“What?” she shrieked. “I just—”

“Whatever. Listen carefully, woman. I don’t know how you found my address, and frankly, I don’t care. But right now, I’m furious. Go back to Alexander and tell him to marry you. Problem solved.”