Todos los capítulos de The Royal Mate Of The Cursed Lycan King: Capítulo 71 - Capítulo 80

Aria POVThe first sound he made was barely more than a breath.A low, rough groan slipped past his lips, faint enough that for a second I thought I imagined it. I had been sitting beside his bed for so long that my body had gone still with vigilance, afraid that if I moved too much, I’d miss the moment he came back to me.But then his fingers twitched.Just slightly.My breath caught in my throat.“Raiden,” I whispered, leaning forward instantly, my hand already reaching for his. His skin was warm beneath my palm, solid, real, no longer that terrifying stillness that had haunted me since we brought him home.His brows furrowed as if waking hurt. His chest rose deeper this time, a strained inhale, followed by another groan—this one sharper.“Easy,” I murmured softly, brushing my thumb across his knuckles. “You’re safe. You’re home.”His eyelids fluttered, lashes trembling as though the weight of waking was fighting him. When his eyes finally opened, they were clouded with exhaustion,

Aria POVThe walk to the open grounds felt heavier than any battle I had ever fought.Raiden’s hand never left mine, firm and steady, yet I could feel the tension coiled beneath his calm. This wasn’t rage—not the wild kind. This was something colder. Final. The kind of decision made long before words were spoken.By the time we stepped into the open area, the pack had already begun to gather.Lucian had done his job well.Wolves filled the grounds in disciplined silence—warriors in armor still stained with dried blood, elders wrapped in heavy cloaks, sentinels lining the perimeter. Even those who usually lingered at the edges stood tall tonight, eyes fixed forward. Torches burned high, flames crackling as if they too sensed what was coming.Axel was already there.Forced to his knees at the center of the grounds, his hands bound tightly behind his back, chains wrapped around his torso and legs like a cage made of iron and magic. He thrashed against them, muscles flexing unnaturally, v

Raiden POVI lay on my back, one arm wrapped around Aria while my other hand traced slow, absent-minded patterns along her arm. Her skin was warm beneath my fingers, grounding in a way I didn’t deserve. She rested against my chest, humming softly, like everything I had just confessed hadn’t shifted the world beneath her feet.That was what unsettled me the most.I had expected anger. Fear. Distance. I had expected her to pull away, to regret meeting me, to look at me like I was something broken beyond repair. But she stayed. Calm. Too calm.Guilt pressed heavy against my ribs.How would she see me now? As a cursed king? A liability? Something she had to handle carefully? I despised the thought of pity more than hatred. I could endure hatred. Pity would rot me from the inside.I shouldn’t have told her.Shut up, Veyr muttered in my head, sharp and firm. You did the right thing. She deserved the truth. And she took it better than you expected.I rolled my eyes slightly, staring at the c

Darius POVI stood at the edge of my balcony, hands braced against the cold stone railing as I stared into the night. The wind brushed past me, sharp and restless, mirroring the chaos in my head. For the first time in a long while, I didn’t know what my next move was—and that uncertainty clawed at me far more viciously than any enemy ever could.Axel was gone.The one pawn who had helped push my plans forward, the one reckless, volatile advantage I’d nurtured, had been taken off the board. Whether by death or something worse, I didn’t know yet—and that not knowing was a problem.I’d sent Selene earlier, instructed her to reach out with her magic, to search for any lingering thread that suggested Axel was still breathing somewhere. Alive, imprisoned, broken—I didn’t care. I just needed something. Because plans, once stalled, either evolved… or died.And I was not the type to let mine die.The family I came from didn’t retreat. We didn’t abandon ambition simply because the path became i

Elowen POVMorning came far too quickly, the kind of morning that doesn’t ease you awake but drags you up by the spine and reminds you that the world never pauses for grief, fear, or unfinished battles.The pack was already alive.Steel clashed against steel at the training grounds. Growls. Shouts. The rhythmic thud of bodies hitting the earth. Everyone was doing what they always did after chaos—moving, sweating, pretending strength could drown out unease.I stood there for a moment, watching.And felt nothing.No urge to spar. No hunger for bruises or broken knuckles. My mind was too loud, too tangled for physical release. So I turned away, ignoring the curious glances thrown my way, and left the training grounds behind.If my body refused to fight, then my mind would.The pack’s library sat at the far end of the inner fortress, old stone and older silence. It was one of the few places that still smelled like ink, parchment, and secrets instead of blood and iron. I pushed the heavy d