Lycan - Chapter 6

As Lycan rose, the woman curled up tightly, pulling the sheet around her body as if to shield herself. She looked like a small, wounded animal trembling in fear.

Turning his gaze away from her, Lycan put on his pants, strode across the room, and threw the door open.

Outside, Wyatt and Owen were lounging lazily on the stairs. Lycan barked out an order.

“Bring clothes for the Duchess.”

“What? Oh, yes, sir.”

Having issued his command, Lycan spun on his heel and returned to the room.

The woman was now sitting up on the bed, clutching the sheet tightly to her chest.

Her disheveled hair fell around her face, her wide, startled eyes staring at him. The delicate curve of her shoulders, her full chest rising visibly beneath the sheet—it all painted a striking picture of vulnerability and allure.

Lycan’s lips tightened as he silently observed the woman.

Her body had been shockingly warm, and as he recalled the pleasure he’d felt inside her, he could feel blood rushing again below his navel.

There’s time for one more round. If I make it quick…

As he took a step forward, his eyes caught the bottle of liquor on the table—and the spilled chicken blood on the floor.

Desire cooled instantly.

His gaze shifted back to her. On the bed where she had lain, a vivid red stain marked the sheets.

She was a virgin.

Wasn’t her fiancé supposed to be a knight-in-training? That young fiancé of hers likely never had the chance to touch her.

Lycan’s lips twisted into a smirk.

Will he give her up now that she’s lost her virginity to her new husband?

A sudden memory of her wielding a sword came to mind. Despite her fear, her movements had been precise and disciplined.

And she’d had the courage to raise her blade against him.

Would someone like her abandon her goals simply because she’d lost her virginity?

He met her eyes.

Her face was pale, her trembling hands clutching the sheet tightly. But her gaze… it burned with intensity, like the glare of a wildcat facing its enemy.

That’s right. Eyes like those never give up.

Knock, knock.

A cautious knock at the door drew Lycan’s attention.

He turned and opened it to find a maid standing there. She froze upon seeing him up close, stumbling back with wide, fearful eyes, her lips parting in terror.

Now this reaction… this is normal.

A faintly bitter smile tugged at his lips as he grabbed the clothes from the stiff maid’s hands and slammed the door shut.

He strode back to the bed. The woman flinched and edged back instinctively.

Suppressing a bitter smile, Lycan tossed the clothes onto the bed.

“Put them on and come out.”

Without sparing her another glance, he turned away, dressed himself, grabbed his sword, and walked straight out of the room.

At the base of the stairs, the gathered knights looked up at him, their eyes brimming with curiosity. Wyatt Gordon, in particular, had a grin plastered across his face as if he couldn’t be more entertained.

As Lycan descended the steps, Wyatt took the opportunity to speak, clearly eager.

“Well, what did I tell you? I told you to think about your bride’s feelings. You rushed the wedding so much it’s no wonder she’s upset!”

“Shut it, Wyatt.”

His cold threat didn’t faze the oafish barbarian in the slightest.

“Hey, Jeffrey, bring some medicine for the wounds. Your Duke here got stabbed—”

“Damn it,” Lycan snarled, stepping closer and gritting his teeth as he loomed over Wyatt.

“Do I have to cut out your tongue to make you stop?”

“Whoa, why so harsh? I’m only worried about you, Duke,” Wyatt replied mockingly.

It was then that the knights, as one, suddenly looked up the stairs.

Lycan and Wyatt both followed their gaze.

There she was—the woman, pale-faced and unsteady, standing at the top of the stairs.

As her eyes landed on the knights below, fear washed over her face.

Seeing this, Lycan sighed inwardly.

She slowly began descending the stairs.

“Why don’t you go help her? You should try to ease her mood, you know. Unless you want to get stabbed in the bedroom again,” Wyatt whispered, a grin tugging at his lips.

Lycan shot him a glare that could kill. Wyatt ducked his head, stifling his laughter.

Lycan turned his gaze back to her.

She looked unsteady, as though she might tumble down at any moment.

And… she was painfully slow. At this rate, he wasn’t sure they’d even make it to the camp outside the castle.

Damn it.

With a growl of frustration, Lycan strode up the stairs and stopped in front of her.

“We’ll be here until dawn at this rate,” he muttered gruffly.

Without another word, he scooped her up into his arms.

Her eyes widened in shock, but he ignored her reaction and briskly carried her back down the stairs and through the hall.

“Well, well. What if your stab wound gets worse from all that heavy lifting?” Wyatt’s mocking voice floated up from behind, followed by stifled chuckles.

One thing was for sure:

That fool of a bear, Wyatt, had just been handed enough material to tease him for years to come.

 

*

 

Lycan had walked all the way out to the courtyard before coming to a stop in front of a carriage waiting beside the horses. As soon as he set the woman down, Wyatt, who had followed close behind, spoke quietly.

“The lady… I mean, the Duchess, can’t ride a horse.”

For a moment, Lycan looked at her.

Draped in a cloak, the woman quickly pulled up the hood when she felt his gaze on her.

A woman who could handle a sword couldn’t ride a horse?

Lycan’s lips twisted into a faint smirk.

She avoided his eyes, clearly not wanting to meet his gaze.

He stared at her sharply, as though he could see through her intentions.

Just then, a loud fluttering sound filled the air, the flapping of bird wings. Lycan turned his head toward the noise and spotted a dwarf holding a birdcage.

Behind the dwarf stood the count and his retainers.

The count’s gaze landed on the woman, his eyes dark and damp with something unreadable.

Lycan ignored the count and shifted his focus to the dwarf.

The dwarf had pointed ears and a ridiculously crooked nose that seemed exaggerated even by normal standards.

What’s this?

As if answering his unspoken question, Wyatt muttered in a bored tone,

“A servant sent by the count. He’s from a race of dwarves who can create light to illuminate their surroundings, supposedly to make traveling easier.”

Then, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear, Wyatt added sarcastically, “Not actual flames, just light. What’s the point of that?”

“I can illuminate dark paths for you, my lord,” the dwarf interjected quickly, as if to counter Wyatt’s complaint.

Lycan ignored the explanation and turned his attention to the bird in the cage.

“A pheasant?” he asked.

At that moment, the bird flapped its wings violently, as though it were angry.

One of Lycan’s thick eyebrows shot up.

Could it understand what I said? Of course not… but still.

“It’s not a pheasant, actually,” the dwarf explained hesitantly. “No one knows what kind of bird it is. Perhaps it’s some kind of crossbreed, like a mix of a pheasant and a chicken…”

The bird flapped its wings again, more aggressively this time.

Lycan frowned deeply, his expression hardening.

“There’s no need to take along a bird we can’t even identify. Let it go and—”

“It’s my bird.”

The woman suddenly interrupted, stepping forward. Taking the cage from the dwarf, she looked up at Lycan with a determined expression.

“I care for this bird. I must bring it with me.”

Lycan looked down at her, stunned not only by her cutting him off but also by her outright defiance of his order.

For a brief moment, he was tempted to open the cage door and release the bird right in front of her, just to provoke her. But the thought of dealing with her anger made the whole thing feel tiresome.

One thing was clear: she had made her point. She wasn’t someone to be easily pushed around.

“Do as you like,” he muttered dismissively, turning away.

He strode toward his black stallion, which snorted and stomped the ground restlessly, clearly agitated.

“Seems Ventus doesn’t care much for the smell around here,” Wyatt commented. “He’s been uneasy this whole time.”

Lycan scanned their surroundings. Just as when they had first arrived, thick fog blanketed the area. The moonlight that had illuminated the sky when he’d entered the bedchamber was now completely gone, replaced by suffocating darkness. Only the scattered torches provided some visibility.

It would probably be wiser not to leave the castle on a night like this.

But Lycan didn’t hesitate. He mounted his horse without a second thought.

The knights, as if awaiting his lead, immediately followed suit, climbing onto their own steeds.

Lycan’s gaze shifted toward the woman, who was climbing into the carriage. She clutched the birdcage tightly to her chest, her pale face seeming almost ghostly in the faint torchlight.

With a sharp tug, Lycan turned his horse’s head and gave the signal.

Wyatt, ever loud, bellowed, “Open the gates!”

 

***

 

Callie climbed into the carriage with some difficulty. Thankfully—truly, thankfully—the interior was comfortable. Layers of plush mats were laid across the floor, and soft cushions were positioned for support. It was as if the count had arranged this in gratitude for marrying in his daughter’s place.

With a groan, she let herself sink onto the mats, a sigh slipping out unconsciously.

“How did you survive?”

Sheila’s voice was low, almost a whisper, as though she feared being overheard. Callie had no energy to answer. Besides, what could she even say?

How was she supposed to explain that strange and painful experience? And to a bird, no less.

“I heard horrifying screams. Was it that painful? Did you get stabbed or something?”

Callie let out a bitter chuckle.

“I’m the one who did the stabbing,” she replied.

Sheila’s eyes widened.

“You stabbed that brute? Oh, the wound on his arm—is that your doing?”

She sounded almost impressed.

“When you’re about to die, you do whatever you can,” Callie muttered, almost to herself.

It was true. In that moment, she’d been consumed by the overwhelming terror of death. To think she had swung a blade at that enormous, terrifying man…

“To stab a brute like him and still not have your neck snapped… You’re lucky,” Sheila murmured, her tone laced with disbelief as she clicked her tongue.

At that, a laugh escaped Callie’s lips.

Lucky? Me?

That word felt like it didn’t belong to her at all.

A girl who didn’t even know if she was human or elven. Someone who had no idea who her parents were and had lived her entire life completely alone.

Lucky? What a joke, Sheila.

And yet…

It had been less than an hour.

Less than an hour since she had narrowly escaped death beneath that man.

Katta.

The way he had whispered softly, yet piercingly, as he entered her—it still echoed vividly in her mind.

The unfamiliar sensations she had felt as he drove deeper and deeper were still etched into her memory. It had been sharp and excruciating, like a spear, yet burning hot like fire.

The mixture of her pained whimpers and the shaky, breathless noises that escaped her lips despite herself. The relentless movements of his body, powerful and unyielding like a demon’s, had stirred up strange, overwhelming feelings inside her.

“Why are you zoning out like that?”

Sheila’s voice jolted Callie back to the present.

“Your face is red. Do you have a fever? What did that brute do to you?”

What did he do…? Yes, he had done something to her. But she didn’t know what to call it or how to explain it.

“Callie. Tell me. What happened back there?”

Sheila pressed her, but Callie weakly shook her head.

“I’m sorry, Sheila. I need to rest. I don’t even have the energy to talk right now.”

Leaning her head back against the cushion, Callie closed her eyes.

The carriage jolted, its wheels creaking as it began to move.

But the moment she shut her eyes, the man’s crimson gaze flashed vividly in her mind—the way he had looked down at her, unrelenting and overpowering.

‘Stop. Please. Please stop…’

She had begged through her sobs, more afraid of the strange sensations surging through her body than of the searing pain.

‘It’s too late.’

His rough, forceful movements and the scorching kisses he had pressed onto her skin came flooding back, clear as day.