Strange feeling

Dustan’s POV

I woke up later than usual.

Not because I was tired,just unwilling to start the day.Last night lingered in fragments—uninteresting, half annoying. Nothing worth dwelling upon.Or so I told myself.

A soft knock followed by the creak of the door interrupted my thoughts.“Good morning, young master,” Patricia’s voice came, gentle as always. I exhaled slowly and sat up as she walked in, carrying a tray.Patricia had been around longer than most people in this palace. Her wrinkled, sharp eyes, far too perceptive for her own good.She set the tray down with practiced ease. “I’ve brought your breakfast.”

“Hmm.” I ran a hand through my hair, already reaching for my clothes. She didn’t speak while I dressed. Smart woman.But as I adjusted my cuffs, the thought came—casual, almost careless.“Where’s my wife?” The words left my mouth before I could even question why I was asking.

Patricia paused.It was too long, I noticed.My eyes flicked to her. “Well?”

She hesitated, fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the tray.“When we went to serve her breakfast…” she began cautiously, “she wasn’t in her room.”

I stilled.Then slowly turned to face her fully.“And?”

She swallowed. “I…I believe she might be at the training grounds.”

One of my brows arched on its own.“The training grounds?”

“Yes, young master.”

I held her gaze for a moment longer.Then dismissed her with a flick of my hand.“That’ll be all.” She bowed her head quickly and left.

---

The room fell silent again.But something felt… off. Training grounds? A newly married bride, gone at dawn, skipping breakfast to—

I scoffed under my breath. “Unusual…” Or one of those whores gone to meet a lover?! Too eager… 

But not my concern.Or at least—It shouldn’t be.

---

Still,my body moved before my mind caught up.I rolled towards the window, pressing a small button on the side of my wheelchair.A soft mechanical hum followed as the chair adjusted, lifting slightly—elevating my position for a clearer view.One of the many advantages of this cool gadget.

People saw the chair as a symbol of my handicap.They never saw what it could do.

Or what I could do.

---

The moment the window opened, sound rushed in.It was distant, but sharp and clear.My hearing had always been… different.Enhanced would be a better word.Where most wolves relied on instinct, mine had sharpened into something far more precise.Almost like that of a Night Crawlers’. 

I could pick up individual voices across distances others wouldn’t even register.

And right now I heard her.Her unrestrained laughter! It echoed faintly, carried by the wind from the training grounds. My fingers stilled against the armrest.I shifted slightly, adjusting my angle.And then I saw her.

Right in the middle of the training ground.She was moving fluid… moving fast. Fighting like a real warrior! So full of life! Men surrounded her—sparring, grappling—and she moved through them like she had done that a thousand times. I watched as one of them grabbed her—Another joined—

They pulled her down into a tangle of limbs…laughter breaking out all around them.Something inside me—Snapped.A sharp, sudden spike of… ‘something’. It was hot and irritating…a very unfamiliar feeling. 

My grip tightened on the armrest.I frowned, eyes narrowing.It made no sense. The feeling… I couldn't name it! What the hell!!! It wasn’t anger.Not exactly.Not even proper irritation.

It was—I exhaled sharply, cutting the thought off. “Ridiculous.”

And yet my gaze didn’t move away.One of them had his hands on her waist.Another held her arm.That was too close.Things were escalating far too… my jaw clenched.Before I even realized what I was doing,I pressed the call button.

The door opened almost immediately.“My lord?” my attendant stepped in.

“Prepare,” I said flatly, already moving forward. “We’re going to the training grounds.”

He blinked, surprised but recovered quickly. “Yes, my lord.”

I didn’t wait.The wheelchair responded instantly beneath my touch.It glided smoothly, controlled, entirely under my command as I pushed forward.Whatever that feeling was—I’d deal with it later.

For now— I needed to see something for myself.As I neared the training grounds, the noises sharpened—boots against dirt, heavy breaths, scattered laughter still lingering in the air.And then I saw her,on the ground,pinned moments ago, now just pushing herself up—hair slightly disheveled, clothes clinging to her skin, her chest rising and falling with exertion.

But that wasn’t what caught me.It was the marks.They were already fading, but unmistakable.There were handprints across her arms,her waist,her side.Finger-shaped impressions left behind by the men she had been wrestling with.

My vision narrowed.Something flickered through my thoughts…fast.Illicit images intruded the sanctum of my mind and I did not like it one bit – vulgar images of her beneath them.Images of her naked and laughing like her heart belonged there,then struggling playfully under their grasps,their hands on her—

My jaw clenched so hard it hurt.A sharp, violent surge rose in my chest.Possessiveness flared and it felt so unwelcome and sudden. “What kind of a fucking hell…” I muttered under my breath, but the feeling didn’t fade.

It only intensified.My wheelchair rolled forward, faster now, cutting across the ground with renewed purpose.The moment they noticed me—Everything stopped.

Men straightened instantly. Some stepped back. Others looked like they’d just realized they’d made a terrible mistake.Good!They had.My gaze swept over them once—before landing on her again.Those marks were still there though her wounds were healing fast. 

The thing that had snapped inside me, repaired and snapped back again. “On your knees.” I commanded,keeping my tone nonchalant and casual.

Every single one of them froze—Then dropped immediately.No hesitation this time.Dust rose around them as they knelt, heads lowered.Tension thickened in the air.I didn’t look away from her.I held her fiery gaze. “Who gave you permission,” I said slowly, each word edged with impending danger, “to lay your hands on royal property?”

Silence followed…pin drop silence. One of them dared to speak, though voice strained. “My lord—we were only sparring on the lady's request—”

“Step forward if you wish to speak…” Those words cut him off instantly.My fingers curled slightly against the armrest.That same irrational, burning irritation refused to leave. “Attendant,” I called without looking away.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Have them whipped.”

A pause.

Then—

“…My lord?”

I finally shifted my gaze, trying to look as unbothered as I could. “For touching what does not belong to them.” The air seemed to still.“Every single one of them…”