Curves And Claws: The Lycan King's Relentless Claim novel Chapter 74

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

**Chapter 74**

Roana,

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Once the others had left, I found myself staring blankly at the ceiling of the cold, sterile room, my thoughts drifting aimlessly. The harsh, fluorescent light above flickered intermittently, casting unsettling shadows that danced across the walls. A breath, tight and constricted, escaped my lips, barely more than a whisper in the stillness. The lingering aroma of BBQ chicken hung in the air, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within me. It clung to the blankets and lingered in the corners, a reminder of the fleeting moments of warmth we had shared. But Cassian was gone, and deep down, I knew better than to cling to the hope that he would return. A sharp twitch ran through my jaw at the thought, a dull ache blossoming behind my sternum as the reality of his absence settled heavily on my chest.

Carolyn’s erratic behavior replayed in my mind like a haunting melody, each note striking a chord of unease. With every blink, I could see her desperate eyes flitting around the room, her lips trembling as if caught in a tragic performance. Her voice quaked, dripping with a theatricality that felt almost sinister. It was as though she was trying to ensnare me in her chaotic web, to pull me into whatever dark game she was orchestrating.

Then, there was that absurd moment when she slapped herself, collapsing to the floor with a sickening thud that echoed in my memory. Who in their right mind would go to such lengths to hurt themselves just to manipulate others? I had always thought such behavior belonged to the pages of fiction, far removed from my reality. Yet here I was, grappling with the nausea that her antics had stirred within me. My nose scrunched in distaste, and my brows knitted tightly together as the memory replayed, sending a chill creeping down my arms, goosebumps rising in response to the secondhand embarrassment I felt.

Alone in this sterile room, my thoughts began to collide like storm clouds, each wave crashing into the next. The kidnapping, the revelation of my identity as a silver wolf, the drugs that had muddied my mind… and the disorienting experience of wandering into a valley of Black Moon Flowers? Was such a place even real? The more I pondered, the heavier the throbbing in my temples became. My fingers clenched into the bedsheet, knuckles whitening with the pressure of my thoughts.

And those figures—those practitioners of witchcraft—haunted my mind. I had only heard whispers of such things in hushed tones, yet I had witnessed it firsthand. That night had felt like a waking nightmare, my breath hitching in my throat as the memory of fear echoed through my chest, a constant reminder that danger lurked just beyond the veil of my understanding.

The pain from my past ordeal was still present, a dull throb beneath my skin that refused to fade. It pulsed like a heartbeat, a reminder of my vulnerability. The thought of having stumbled into a hidden valley of Black Moon Flowers, flowers that were not even native to this area, gnawed at me. Only my pack and a few smaller ones harvested them for their illicit uses.

How had I found myself in such a secretive place? My throat constricted as I swallowed hard, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on me.

“Maybe we should go there to check it ourselves again!” Rye suggested, her voice cutting through the tempest of my spiraling thoughts.

I tensed at the sound of her voice, the suggestion igniting a flicker of panic within me.

“It wouldn’t be wise! Cassian is trying to trust me, but I’m still an outsider. One wrong move could jeopardize everything!” I replied, my tone sharper than I intended, the urgency of my words hanging in the air.

Rye hummed thoughtfully, her expression contemplative as she considered my words. “And Lorenzo has some bad blood with us. For some reason, I suspect he’s a bit too involved with Carolyn. I think he likes her!” she added, incredulity lacing her tone.

“I thought he was interested in Veronica!” I muttered, surprise etched across my features.

“Veronica? Oh, she hasn’t shown her face since we arrived at the Royal Packhouse!” Rye settled comfortably beside me on the bed, her warmth radiating a soft glow that eased the tension coiling in my shoulders.

I rested my head against her fluffy belly, nuzzling into her, exhaling a slow breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “We’re in a precarious situation, aren’t we?” I whispered, my voice calm yet trembling at the edges.

“I don’t think so. We both know we can handle whatever comes our way,” she replied, a grin illuminating her face, her eyes sparkling with a golden fire that momentarily dispelled the darkness.

“Let’s not do anything reckless, Rye. We can’t afford to make people hate us even more!” I rubbed my face, dragging my palms down my cheeks, my fingertips cold against the warmth of my skin. “And we absolutely cannot let anyone discover our true identities, can we?”

She howled cheerfully, her spirit infectious as she inserted herself into my thoughts. “Nobody will ever know!”

A chuckle escaped my lips, a soft, shaky sound that broke the tension. I turned my attention to the television, the movies flickering on the screen. They were mind-numbingly dull, yet somehow they became more engaging as the hours drifted lazily by. I remained still, attempting to focus on the film until a soft, sweet scent began to permeate the room.

My eyes fluttered closed, lashes brushing against one another as a heavy fog of drowsiness enveloped me. I wasn’t fully asleep, but I felt as though I were sinking into an abyss of lethargy. My fingers twitched against the blanket, my limbs growing heavier with each passing second.

But then, something shifted in the room. A sudden rush of wind swept through, despite the window being firmly shut. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled with an instinctive alarm. Then, like that fateful night, the sweet, nectar-like scent mingled with an undertone of ashes, invading my senses.

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