Moonbound To Hell: The Cursed Lycan's Mate

Chapter 16

I was practically dragging my feet when we headed out of the venue. I walked in front, not caring if it looked improper. Nyx and his people followed from behind. I crossed the street and entered the building, heading straight for the elevator. I pressed the button and stepped inside before Nyx followed me in with Darius. He pressed the button for the rooftop. As the elevator went up, I rested against the wall, eyes half-closed. Goddess, I was so tired. Even my body now hated me.

Darius cleared his throat. “Your Majesty, you have a meeting with Walbrooke’s Alpha regarding the war in their lands.”

Nyx looked at me. I shot him a deadly glare that said everything I didn’t have the energy to voice. He sighed helplessly, the sound almost human. For once, the cursed king looked like he didn’t know what to do with me.

He turned to Darius. “I will go to the meeting alone. Evie might snap my neck if I force her to go anywhere else tonight.”

I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the cool metal wall. The elevator dinged before opening.A faint smirk tugged at my lips despite everything. At least he was learning. I dragged my feet toward the private jet like it was my only lifeline. The door of the jet was already open. I slowly climbed the stairs and found myself a comfortable seat. The moment my head touched the cushion, I slept off.

Nyx turned to Darius “ Cancel the meeting "

”Why Lycan? This meeting is important for us - for Aethoria and you know it” Darius tried to reason with him.

" Just cancel it or s**t it for now" Nyx replied singling the end of conversation. Darius was shocked because this is the first time the Lycan King has cancelled a very important meeting without any valid reason. I caught fragments of their low conversation as the jet leveled out, my body too heavy to stir fully.

Nyx’s voice was firm and final. “She needs rest. The Alpha can wait.”

As the jet took off, Nyx slowly removed the strands of hair covering my face. “She must be very tired,” I didn’t hear the words, but the gentle brush of his fingers registered somewhere deep, a tenderness that clashed with the ruthless king I knew.

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I woke up briefly when the jet landed after about an hour. Strong arms lifted me. Nyx. His scent — dark cedar and smoke — wrapped around me as he carried me out of the jet and from the rooftop into the fortress. I was too tired to protest. My head rested against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. He moved with effortless strength, like I weighed nothing.

He carried me all the way to my room. The door clicked shut behind us. He laid me gently on the bed. As he tried to leave, he noticed how uncomfortable I was in that gown. The fabric, once stunning, was now a constricting mess of rips and bloodstains, bunched awkwardly around my body. Nyx paused at the edge of the bed, silver eyes tracing the lines of discomfort even in my sleep. With careful movements, he helped me remove my heels first. They slipped off easily, dropped softly to the floor. Then, with a patience I wouldn’t have expected from the cursed king, he worked at the fastenings of the crimson gown. The zipper whispered down my back, the material peeling away like shedding old skin. He eased it off my shoulders and down my body, leaving me in just my pants—simple black underwear that clung to my curves. The golden shawl had already slipped away during the carry.

Nyx stood there for a long moment, looking at my sleeping, nearly naked body. The moonlight highlighted every line: the curve of my breasts, the bandaged cuts and scrapes from the fight, the faint hickeys still visible on my neck and thighs. His breath hitched. Desire stirred in him, his body started responding with unmistakable heat. The front of his trousers bulged noticeably, the powerful Lycan king momentarily frozen by the sight of his mate so vulnerable and beautiful in his bed. He clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to touch, to claim, to wake me with kisses along every bruise. But he held back.

I shifted slightly in my sleep, a soft sigh escaping my lips as the cool air touched my skin. The discomfort of the gown was gone, replaced by the blissful freedom of near-nakedness under soft sheets. Nyx finally pulled the covers over me, tucking them gently around my form. His fingers lingered on my shoulder for one last second, tracing a non-injured patch of skin with surprising reverence.

“Sleep, little fire,” he murmured, voice rough. “You’ve earned it.”