Curves And Claws: The Lycan King's Relentless Claim novel Chapter 83

**Fireflies in Winter Rain — Neil A. Varma**
**Chapter 83**

The gentle warmth of a woman’s embrace enveloped me, igniting a primal fire deep within my chest. I nestled my face into the tender curve of her neck, savoring the sweet fragrance that lingered on her skin. There was something enchanting about mornings like this—when a woman, her scent reminiscent of honey and blossoms, shared my bed. In those moments, the chaos of the outside world faded into oblivion, leaving behind only the cocoon of warmth and intimacy.

But that blissful tranquility was abruptly shattered.

“Young Master! Team C has returned. Your presence is urgently required in the throne room!” Marco’s voice sliced through the serenity like a sharp blade, jarring me from my reverie.

I felt my jaw clench involuntarily, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. The comfort I had been basking in drained away, replaced by a rising tide of annoyance. I pressed my lips against the soft skin of the woman’s cleavage, allowing myself a moment longer in this cocoon of warmth before reluctantly lifting my gaze to Marco. His expression was as impassive as ever, yet it only served to stoke the embers of my anger.

“I specifically instructed you not to disturb my morning ritual. Have you lost your senses?” I growled, the low rumble emanating from my chest usually enough to send most men cowering. But not Marco. He remained steadfast, his resolve unshaken.

“It’s urgent, Young Master. I wouldn’t have intruded if it wasn’t.”

My fingers clenched the sheets, my knuckles turning white with the pressure of my rising frustration. “You mean to tell me there’s something more critical than my rest? Marco, have you forgotten the rules I set for you?”

“Cove has been taken down. He is dead.”

The words fell heavily, like stones dropped into a still pond, sending ripples of shock through my mind. My breath caught in my throat, rendering me momentarily speechless. “What the hell did you just say?” My voice emerged, eerily soft yet laced with a razor-sharp edge. “This isn’t the time for jokes.”

But Marco’s stance was rigid, his shoulders betraying a weight of grief that hung heavily in the air. “Team C is here. Please, come downstairs as quickly as you can.”

A chill crept up my spine, an icy throb that made my heart pound with a slow, heavy rhythm against my ribs. “Wait, Marco. Are you absolutely certain he’s dead?”

His expression darkened further, shadows of sorrow creeping into his features. “Yes, Young Master. You must come downstairs.”

A tempest of fury and confusion surged within me. Cove? Dead? My strongest Commander? The very thought was unthinkable, unacceptable.

“Let me assist you with a bath, Young Master!” The woman beside me reached out, her hand gliding across my chest, her touch feeling like an unwelcome intrusion.

Before she could register my intent, my palm struck her face with a sharp crack, the sound echoing in the room. “Shut up, bitch. Get out.” My voice was a guttural snarl, a reflection of the rage that roared beneath my skin, my wolf restless and pacing within me.

Cove and Marco were the only two I trusted implicitly. And now Cove was… simply gone?

I didn’t bother to change. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, my feet hitting the floor with a heavy thud that reverberated through the silence. My aura expanded outward, thick and frigid, wrapping the air in an oppressive shroud of darkness.

As I entered the throne room, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. Everyone sprang to their feet, their faces tightening with fear, dread, and uncertainty. I scanned their expressions, noting their unblemished bodies and pristine clothing. But how could Cove be dead?

“Good mor—”

I raised a hand to silence them, dropping heavily onto the throne. My voice slithered across the room, low and menacing. “Where is Cove?”

None of them dared to meet my gaze. Their discomfort only fueled the fire of my anger. I slammed my hand against the table beside me, the wood splintering under the force of my blow.

“I said,” my voice dropped to an icy whisper, “where is Cove?”

“Young Master… we—” Daniel stepped forward, then hesitated, his throat working as he struggled to find words. Tears glimmered in his eyes, trembling on the brink of spilling. “We failed to protect him.”

“Failed to protect him?” The words tasted bitter on my tongue, like ash. “Did you even try? All of you stand here, untouched—yet Cove is dead?”

“Young Master, we—”

“Cove was the strongest warrior in my territory, and now he’s dead? How? Who killed him? Why didn’t one of you die in his place?” My voice cracked with a mix of fury and desperation, rising to a fever pitch. “Answer me! Why didn’t one of you die instead of my Cove?”

The room trembled with the weight of my rage. Daniel recoiled, visibly shaken.

“Young Master… it was his choice. We were meeting a pack of rogues when we detected an intruder—”

“An intruder?” My voice narrowed into a lethal whisper. “How did an intruder breach the sanctuary of my territory? That place is cloaked in black magic.”

“We don’t know yet. We evacuated as quickly as we could. But Master Cove… he stayed behind in his wolf form. He sensed the intruder could break the barrier. He knew defeating them wouldn’t be easy. He ordered us to leave or we’d all be caught.”

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