Curves And Claws: The Lycan King's Relentless Claim novel Chapter 49

**Chapter 49**

I stood before the mirror, staring at my reflection, grappling with the whirlwind of emotions that had just engulfed me. The hickey on my neck pulsed with a reminder of last night, and every beat of my heart felt like a drum echoing the chaos inside.

What had unfolded? How had we crossed that delicate line? Did we truly step beyond the boundaries we had set? Why had Cassian acted that way? And what about me?

A strange warmth spread through me at the realization that I didn’t truly mind it—not even a fraction. Why was I always so vulnerable when he held me?

Last night, when I had dissolved into tears in his embrace, it felt like a sanctuary, a place I wished to inhabit for eternity. Since that moment, every time I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I could no longer see myself as lesser than anyone else.

Yet, every memory of being enveloped in Cassian’s arms tightened my throat. He had cradled me as if I were made of glass, his lips tracing the contours of my body with a reverence that felt sacred. It was as if we were intoxicated, lost in the allure of one another, more than just the pull of the mate bond.

What lay ahead for us? Crossing those lines was a breach of our unspoken rules. Who would bear the blame? We both had surrendered to the moment.

What if Cassian believed I had seduced him with my cooking?

Wait, could someone actually be seduced by a meal? All I had prepared was steak—my absolute favorite, but was it truly that enticing?

“Shut up!” Rye growled from within me. “Can’t you be serious for once?”

I couldn’t help but scoff. “Someone’s feeling quite cheerful today,” I retorted, half-amused by the absurdity of it all.

Rye purred softly, unbothered by the turmoil. But I—

I sighed deeply, rubbing my temples in an attempt to dispel the remnants of the night before. My fingers brushed over the hickey, a faint bruise that throbbed with each swallow. My body felt heavy, still warm in places that should have forgotten him by now. Every nerve ending sparked with vivid memories, burning like a ghost that refused to depart.

Wrapping the towel tighter around myself, I stepped out of the bathroom, expecting to find him asleep. I pictured him curled up, chest rising and falling rhythmically, hair tousled across his forehead. The image brought a wave of relief, easing the tension in my shoulders. At least something felt familiar.

Except it didn’t.

Cassian wasn’t asleep. He leaned casually against the doorway, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on me in a way that made my stomach twist. It wasn’t the possessive, claiming look I had witnessed earlier; it was blank, almost indifferent. And somehow, that made my heart race faster.

“Good morning,” I managed to say, my voice wavering despite my desperate attempt to sound composed.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he shifted his weight and walked past me toward the kitchen, as if I were merely an afterthought in my towel-clad state. A sharp, stinging pressure gripped my chest—a sensation akin to betrayal.

For reasons I couldn’t quite grasp, I wasn’t shocked.

I blinked at the empty space he had left behind, my heart racing, cheeks flushing. Did he regret what had happened? Was that why he was avoiding me? My mind spun, replaying every moment from the night before: the way he had held me like I was fragile porcelain, the whispers of my name, the warmth that had enveloped my skin, and now—this silence.

He was simply ignoring me?

I sank into a chair beside the bed, wrapping my arms around myself. The towel felt flimsy against the weight of my swirling emotions.

I rubbed the back of my neck, my heart racing.

Cassian offered a small nod in return, his expression inscrutable, before he continued walking past me, leaving me standing there, towel clutched tightly around my body.

His lingering scent hung in the air, enveloping me like a ghost, and it made my chest ache even more.

I sank back into the chair, exhaling shakily. “Boundaries,” I whispered again, as if uttering it aloud could solidify my control over my own body and emotions. Yet, my fingers trembled, betraying my resolve. Every memory of last night and this morning pressed against my skin, demanding acknowledgment.

Rye muttered from the depths of my mind, “You’re not fooling anyone, Roana. Least of all yourself.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration. “I don’t care,” I murmured. “I just… have to survive today without… losing my mind.”

I clenched my fists against the table. “It was a mistake,” I whispered, though my throat tightened at the admission. “It has to be a mistake. A lapse. Something… temporary.”

But even as I spoke those words, I knew the undeniable truth: my body, my mind, my soul—pieces of me had never felt so alive, so seen, so… desired. And now, I had to battle against that. Against the gravity of his presence, the ache of his quiet gaze, the lingering ghost of his hands on my skin.

I wrapped my arms around myself once more, staring down at the floor, as if it held the answers I sought. “Boundaries,” I whispered for the final time. “Yes… strong boundaries. From now on.”

I hadn’t anticipated that just one moment could unravel me so completely. Even earlier, when he had held me close, I hadn’t expected to feel this way. I understood it was meant to be a singular experience. I understood that he was under some influence, or whatever it was. But seeing his face—cold, unreadable, and filled with regret—made the situation infinitely worse than I had ever imagined.