Chapter 6

I sit on the bed, staring at the untouched tray of food. My stomach aches, but I don’t care. It’s been two days since I managed to land myself in the Lycan king's pack, and in those two days, I’ve managed to stay in here without making any noise.

I haven’t seen Kieran since that day. I’d mostly perceive his scent outside the door, but he didn’t come in, and for that, I am thankful.

A knock at the door makes me tense. Before I can say anything, the door opens, and a maid steps inside, carrying another tray. She looks nervous, her hands gripping the sides tightly.

“My lady,” she says carefully. “You should eat.”

My lady? Is this really my reality? I shake my head, not looking at her. “Take it away,” I mumbled.

She hesitates. “But, His Majesty—”

“Please go,” I cut in, my voice flat. “I’m not hungry.”

She shifts uncomfortably. “You haven’t eaten since—”

“Take it away.” The words snap out before I can stop them. Frustration coils in my chest, and I regret it immediately. I’m already frustrated and tired as it is. I have no idea where my life is leading me or if I’ll have to be locked inside this room for the rest of my life. I truly don’t care about eating.

She jumps, and in her haste, the tray tilts. The plate slides off, crashing onto the floor. The sharp sound rings through the room, followed by the clatter of the plate.

I flinch. Without thinking, I rush forward. “I’m sorry,” I blurt out. “I didn’t mean to—”

I drop to my knees, already gathering the broken shards when pain stings my finger. I inhale sharply, looking down to see a thin cut along my skin, a small bead of blood welling up.

The maid gasps. “I—I’m so sorry—”

I look up to her, ready to refuse and let her know this wasn’t her fault. It’s all mine, but then the door slams open.

The air shifts, heavy with something. The maid stiffens, her face turning pale.

I don’t need to look up to know who it is. It was him. Kieran.

He strides inside, his gaze sweeping over the scene. The broken plate, the blood on my finger, the maid standing frozen.

His expression hardens. Different from what I’ve seen from him.

“What happened?” His voice is calm but firm.

The maid trembles. I see it in the way she grips her apron, how her breathing quickens. He’s going to punish her.

“It was my fault.” I blurt out quickly before he could say anything else.

Kieran’s eyes snap to mine, and for a second, I almost cower away, but I don’t. I force myself to hold his gaze even as my heart pounded hard in my chest, I feared it would burst out open. He doesn’t say a word for some seconds while I stayed still, waiting for him to say something. This has to be it. He has to have seen reason now. To tell me that he sees why I can’t be his mate.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, Kieran closes the distance between us in one smooth step and crouches beside me. Before I can react, he takes my injured hand in his.

I go completely still.

His touch is warm, his grip firm but gentle as he inspects the cut. His brows pull together slightly, his thumb grazing just below the wound.

“You shouldn’t be touching broken glass,” he says, his voice softer now.

I don’t understand.

Why is he doing this?

Can’t he see what I am?

I don’t know how to respond. He sounds… almost concerned. Before I can process it, he reaches for a cloth from the table and presses it gently against my finger. The warmth of his hand lingers.

“Hold this,” he murmurs, and when I don’t move, he adjusts my grip himself, his fingers brushing against mine. “It’s not deep, but you still need to be careful.”

I stare at him, thrown completely off guard.

Why is he doing this?

Why isn’t he angry?

Why does he care?

Kieran doesn’t speak as he wraps my finger calmly. His hands are large, rough, but his movements are surprisingly careful, and when he was done, he stepped back.

“Someone will bring you clean clothes,” he says. “And fresh food.”

I should refuse and tell him I’m not hungry. That I don’t want to eat anything. But I don’t.

I only stare at him blankly as he walked out of the room, the maid rushing off after him.