Curves And Claws: The Lycan King's Relentless Claim novel Chapter 109

**Fireflies in Winter Rain — Neil A. Varma**
**Chapter 109**

For a brief, disorienting moment, the world around me faded into a haze. The magnificent palace walls, the expansive courtyard, even the dimming sky that loomed behind Cyrus—all of it dissolved under the overwhelming weight of his presence. His golden eyes, fierce and unwavering, seemed to pierce through me, holding me in place, demanding stillness as if time itself had come to a halt.

My knee brushed against the thick fur of his massive form.

A rush of warmth surged up my spine, flooding my lungs before I could even think to contain it. My wolf howled with joy within me, her exuberance crashing through my chest like an unstoppable wave. Cyrus leaned down, lowering his colossal head until his nose grazed my cheek once more—this time closer, slower, each movement deliberate.

I should have taken a step back, should have uttered some words to break the spell. But I found myself frozen in place.

Without even a conscious thought, my hand lifted, driven by an instinct deeper than reason, and landed on the thick fur along his jawline. It was warmer and softer than I had ever imagined. My fingers curled into the strands, and the moment our skin connected, the bond between us erupted with an intensity that stole my breath away.

Cyrus inhaled sharply, a sound that reverberated through my entire arm, sending shivers cascading down my spine.

His head dipped lower, still reeling from the impact of my kiss. His breath ghosted across my lips, creating a tension that crackled in the air between us.

And before my mind could catch up with my actions—

I kissed him again. It was as if my mind, my wolf, and my very body conspired together, yearning for him more than I craved the air in my lungs.

This was not a planned action; it was instinctual. My body acted first, drawn forward by an invisible force. My lips pressed against the soft fur and warm muzzle of the towering Lycan. He stiffened, momentarily shocked, but only for a heartbeat.

Then the bond tightened, snapping into place with a force that was palpable.

Cyrus released a low, trembling growl that resonated through my bones, sending a thrill of excitement coursing through me. His fur bristled, claws lightly digging into the stone floor, and his tail flicked sharply behind him in a possessive arc. He lowered his forehead to mine, breath coming in heavy, labored gasps, as if he were struggling to contain something primal within him.

My chest constricted painfully, and I exhaled shakily.

“Cyrus.”

The name slipped from my lips, but it was not spoken aloud; it thrummed through the bond that connected us. His golden eyes locked onto mine from mere inches away, filled with a tumult of emotions—wildness, devotion, territoriality, and an undercurrent of jealousy all swirling together.

The bond pulsed again, but this time it was not just our connection. It was a second heartbeat—no, it was Cassian’s heartbeat.

Cyrus’s massive form flinched as if the very air around him thickened, absorbing something vital.

The transformation occurred too quickly for me to react. One moment, Cyrus loomed above me, a magnificent creature of fur and muscle radiating overwhelming heat. The next, the energy in the air snapped inward, compressing sharply. His form shifted, shrinking, reshaping before my eyes. Bones realigned, fur receded.

I stumbled back a half step, my heart racing, as Cassian stood where Cyrus had just been, panting heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His shirt hung in tatters, hair tousled, and his eyes glowed with the same golden fire that had burned in Cyrus.

He regarded me with an intensity that felt almost like he was peering into my very soul.

It was as if he could still feel the warmth of my kiss lingering on his skin.

His jaw tightened, hands clenching at his sides as if he were wrestling with the urge to reach for me—or perhaps someone else. Jealousy radiated off him in waves so potent it felt like a physical force pressing against my skin.

“Cyrus pushed too hard,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “He shouldn’t have… forced the bond?”

Forced?

A laugh threatened to escape my lips. If anything, I had been the one drawn toward Cyrus, not the other way around.

But Cassian’s expression was anything but calm. It was wild, uncontrolled, and devoid of the regal composure I was used to.

He was furious.

Furious, hurt, and ravenous all at once.

“You kissed him,” he said quietly, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. “Why didn’t you kiss me too?”

What the hell! Now he was feeling jealousy over his own Lycan?

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