Curves And Claws: The Lycan King's Relentless Claim novel Chapter 99

**Chapter 99**

Cassian,

Her eyes remained puffy and red, the delicate skin beneath them tinged with a soft blush that spoke of recent tears. As I helped her settle onto the bench, I could see the slight tremor in her lips, a telltale sign of the turmoil she was trying to contain. She kept her gaze lowered, her fingers entwined tightly, as if she were trying to hold herself together, desperately preventing whatever burden she carried from spilling over.

A tightness gripped my chest, a familiar ache that always accompanied the sight of her in distress. It was a sharp, twisting sensation that crawled beneath my ribs, settling in a place that felt all too raw. When I reached out, my fingers yearning to comfort her shoulder, she flinched. It was a minor movement, but it spoke volumes—she was not merely upset; she was in pain. And I was left wondering if I was the source of that pain.

Guilt clawed at my throat, a heavy weight that made it hard to breathe. Was she hurting because of me? Because I had failed to provide her with the clarity she deserved? Every time she mentioned Elle and her role in this complicated triangle we found ourselves in, my mind would retreat, shutting down like a flickering light.

Yes, I was being a jerk. Yes, I was being unfair. Yet, each time I considered moving forward with her, a dark thought coiled tightly around my heart, suffocating me.

What if Elle returned, and I found myself still entangled in feelings for her?

What if I ended up hurting Roana? What if I let her down? I was terrified of raising her hopes when I couldn’t even decipher my own feelings.

I had breached the unspoken contract between us, the conditions that had been set. Yet, I stood there, paralyzed, with no idea how to proceed. Coward!

I swallowed hard, loathing the uncertainty that churned within me.

“Sorry… I didn’t mean to make a mess right now,” she murmured, her voice a fragile whisper, cracking at the edges. When she finally lifted her chin, her glossy eyes met mine, searching for something—perhaps reassurance, perhaps understanding. “Did I ruin your clothes?”

The question was polite, almost painfully distant, and it stung more than any anger could.

“Nah. Everything’s alright. How are you feeling?” I offered her my handkerchief, my eyes never leaving her face. But before she could take it, I leaned forward, gently pressing the cloth against her cheek.

She froze, her breath hitching in her throat, eyes wide and shimmering as she stared at me, as if trying to decipher my intentions.

The mate bond thrummed between us, a low, persistent tug at the center of my chest. God knows how close I came to pressing my lips to her damp lashes, her delicate nose, those trembling lips that looked so inviting. In that moment, she was breathtakingly beautiful—raw, fragile, and achingly real.

I fought against the urge. I had to control myself. I didn’t want to be selfish. I wanted to be a pillar of strength for her, someone she could lean on, someone who wouldn’t exploit her vulnerability.

My hand moved slowly, wiping away the tears that clung to the gentle curve of her cheek, trailing down to her chin. Just then, I felt her fingers curl around the edge of my collar. The contact was light but trembled with unspoken emotion. Her fingertips brushed against my skin, sending a shiver racing down my spine.

“Thank you for everything you have done, Your Majesty,” she whispered, her forehead resting against my chest. Her hands shook, and I could feel her warm breath against me. “You don’t know how much you made me feel like I matter.”

Her voice broke completely, shattering the fragile silence that enveloped us.

For a heartbeat, my heart stopped. For another, it plummeted.

That was when it hit me—she wasn’t crying because of our earlier conversation. No, something deeper had shaken her, something that had hurt her enough to rattle her entire being.

Did someone say something cruel to her? Did someone look at her with disdain? Did someone make her cry?

Cyrus snarled within me, his claws scraping against the walls of my mind. “Did someone bully my woman? She’s already so sensitive. Who upset her?”

I tried to calm him, but the fury within him burned like a wildfire, coiling around my thoughts. Instead, I focused on Roana, slipping my arms around her and pulling her into a tighter embrace.

“You are the strongest, bravest, and most perfect woman I have ever met, Roana,” I murmured, my lips brushing her temple. “If you don’t matter, then who does?”

A choked, broken laugh escaped her lips, trembling against my chest. She lifted her face just enough for me to see her tear-streaked cheeks and the small, brave attempt at a smile.

“You’re joking, right? Whatever… thank you,” she said, her grin crooked and bittersweet, even as the tears continued to fall.

Her emotional strength was both inspiring and heartbreaking.

I cradled her face gently, my thumbs brushing over her damp lashes before I leaned in, pressing my lips softly to her closed eyes. She flinched slightly—not from fear, but from the bond pulsing between us, a soft ache that was intimate enough to make both of us inhale sharply.

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