Todos los capítulos de The Lycan king's Forbidden Obssesion: Capítulo 91 - Capítulo 100

Serena's POV I watched Alejandro fight. His eyes were barely open, his hand was gripping mine, and his breath came in short, ragged gasps. He was trying so hard to stay awake, to stay with me, and to not let the darkness take him. But the fire in his veins was too hot, and the pain was too deep, and I could see him slipping. "Stay with me," I said, and I squeezed his hand. "Stay with me, Alejandro." He looked at me, and his golden eyes were glassy and unfocused. "I am trying," Alejandro whispered. "I am trying." Then his eyes closed, his hand went limp in mine, and his breathing slowed. "No," I whispered, and I shook him gently. "No, no, no, Alejandro, wake up. Wake up." But he did not wake. The chief healer pushed me aside, and his hands moved to Alejandro's wound, and I heard him mutter something under his breath.

Serena's POV  We danced through three songs, and by the end of the third, Alejandro was laughing, and I was laughing, and the court was watching us with something that looked almost like approval. He was warm in my arms, his breath was soft against my cheek, and his hands were steady on my waist. He was still pale, and he was still weak, but he was here, and he was mine, and nothing else mattered. Then a noble approached us, an older man with grey hair and a kind face. "Your Majesty," the noble said, and he bowed low. "I wanted to thank you for what you did today." Alejandro looked at him, and his golden eyes were curious. "What did I do?" Alejandro asked. "You showed mercy," the noble said. "You showed us that you are not the monster we feared. You showed us that you are a king who can rule with something more than fear."&nb

Serena's POVThe bell kept ringing, and Diego was already moving before I could take a breath."Stay behind me," Capitán Diego commanded, and his sword was up and his grey eyes were cutting down the corridor ahead of us. "If anyone comes at us from the side, you shout. Do you understand me?""I understand," I replied, and my voice came out steadier than I felt, because my heart was pounding so hard I could hear it over the bell.We ran. The torches along the walls guttered as we passed them, and the flames bent sideways in the cold draft that pushed through the hallways. My boots slid once on a patch of frost near the stairwell, and Diego grabbed my arm and hauled me upright without breaking stride."Where are we going?" I asked, and my breath came in short bursts as I kept pace beside him."To the king," Diego answered, and he did not look at me when he said it. "If there is an attack from within, the first thing they will try to do is cut off the head.""The west wing," I pressed. I

Serena's POVThe breathing was still there in the dark, and I stood with my back against the broken library door, and I held the knife so tight that my knuckles hurt.The wood of the door was cold against my shoulder blades, and it creaked when I shifted my weight, so I went still at once, because any sound in a room like that one felt like a confession."It is the wind," I whispered to myself, and my voice sounded small in that big black room. "It is only the wind."The breathing caught, and it rattled, and it stopped, and then it started again.I knew then that it was not the wind.I had learned to know the sounds of a house at night when I was a girl. The creak of a step your father is trying not to make. The catch of a breath behind a door. The small wet noise a person makes when they are hurt and trying not to be heard. And this was that last one.I moved away from the door, and I kept my free hand on the shelf edges so I would not lose my way. The snowlight from the tall windows

Serena's POVThe door clicked shut behind me, and the small room swallowed the sound of it, and for one breath I did nothing but stand inside the warm golden light and let my eyes adjust.The light was the wrong color for what was waiting in that room, and I did not know it yet.The room was small, smaller than my chambers, smaller even than the alcove in the library where I had first found the old histories. There was one low table, and one candle burning on it, and one narrow door set into the far wall with iron bands bolted across the planks. The air was close, and it smelled of wax and blood, and the candle flame bent sideways every time the door moved.The flame bent again as I stepped in, and I watched it straighten, and I did not yet understand why the room smelled of blood.Ramona was braced against that door with both palms flat on the wood and her feet dug into the stone. Her grey shawl had slipped off one shoulder and pooled at her elbow.The shawl had been grey once, a cle