Chapter 101: Instincts

Chapter 101

Lucian pressed his palms flat against the cold, vibrating stone of the floor, his long hair pressed against his forehead as he felt the rush of displaced air.

The Lycan’s massive frame sailed over him, her momentum carrying her past his kneeling form.

The room shook as she landed, her claws skidding across the floor with a sound like shrieking metal.

She pivoted instantly, her muscles coiled to snap his spine, but then… she faltered. The predator was prepared for a fight.

It was prepared for the rival to snarl back, to claw for dominance, to justify the bloodlust screaming in its marrow. It was not prepared for this.

Lucian remained motionless. He offered no scent of fear, no spike of adrenaline, and most importantly, no resistance.

He laid himself bare—the King of the Unholy, reduced to a silent supplicant at the feet of his own mate.

I am not your enemy, he whispered into the void of the bond, his eyes closed. I am yours, Isabella.

The heavy thud of the Lycan’s footsteps approached. Click. Click. It stopped inches from his bowed head.

He could feel the blistering heat radiating from her fur, a localized sun that made the sweat trickle down his spine.

The scent of wildlife was overwhelming, drowning out the last lingering trace of the world he knew.

A vibrating rumble started deep in the Lycan’s chest, a sound so primal it made Lucian’s very bones ache.

He felt the hot, humid huff of her breath against the exposed skin of his neck. It would take only a fraction of a second.

A single snap of those serrated jaws was all it took. The stone ceiling groaned as the “Veiled Space” began its final dissolution, but Lucian didn’t flinch.

He didn’t look up to see the claws hovering over his head. He remained bowed in acknowledgement, a king who had finally found a power greater than his own.

The Lycan leaned down, its snout pressing firmly against the nape of his neck, inhaling the scent of his skin and the drying blood from the wounds she had carved into him.

The growl rumbling in her chest faltered. It faded slowly, dissolving into a confused, high-pitched whine that vibrated against his flesh.

It’s mind was a storm of ancient directives, but Lucian’s stillness had created a sudden disconnection.

The air in the collapsing room was thick with the scent of him—metallic, cold, sandalwood and strangely familiar—warring with the bloodlust that demanded a kill.

The Lycan’s snout remained pressed against his neck, inhaling so deeply that the suction of her breath pulled at his skin.

She was searching for the spark of a fight, the surge of a predator’s ego, but she found only a steady pulse that seemed to beat in time with the earth itself.

A inquisitive chuff escaped her. She moved closer, her massive body pressing against his back.

Then, with a tentative grace that felt entirely out of place for a creature of her size, the Lycan’s rough, sandpaper-like tongue swept across the side of his neck.

Lucian almost flinched at the sudden wet tongue on him but he remained paralyzed, his breath hitched only, not with fear, but with the overwhelming sensation of her presence.

It was a slow, deliberate lick, tasting the salt of his skin and the lingering trace of the wounds she had inflicted

The action wasn’t one of consumption; it was a confused attempt to categorize the man beneath her.

The Lycan let out a short, sharp huff of air and suddenly nudged him. Her massive head shoved against his shoulder, a physical demand that lacked the lethal edge of her previous attacks.

When he didn’t move fast enough, she growled—not a threat, but a command—and used her weight to push him over.

Lucian allowed it, his body yielding to her strength until he was lying flat on his back against the vibrating stone.

The beast didn’t hesitate. She climbed over him, her massive paws pinning his shoulders to the floor with a weight that made the air leave his lungs.

She loomed over him, a mountain of shimmering fur and golden light, her shadow swallowing him whole.

Lucian looked up, his crimson eyes meeting her molten gold ones. From this distance, he could see the tiny, frantic pulses in her irises.

She was staring down at him, her snout inches from his face, her ears twitching at the sound of his breathing.

She was no longer hunting. She was observing.

She lowered her head, her heavy chest fur brushing against his bare skin, and let out a long, weary vibration that felt like a question.

She was waiting for him to do something—not to fight, but to exist in a way that the beast could understand.

Beside them, a massive chunk of the stone ceiling gave way, crashing into the dust only feet away, but neither of them moved.

The world was ending around them, but the Lycan was focused solely on the man who had chosen to be her prey.

Lucian’s lungs burned under the crushing weight of her chest, but he forced his breathing to remain slow and inviting.

He watched the red flicker of her pupils, the way the gold was clouded by a dark confusion.

Slowly, with a caution born of a man reaching into a fire, Lucian began to lift his right hand.

Every inch was a gamble. He could feel the Lycan’s muscles bunch, her ears pinning back as the predatory instinct flared at his movement.

He froze for a heartbeat, his palm open and trembling slightly, before continuing until his fingertips were a mere breath away from her snout.

“Isabella,” he whispered, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that matched the resonance of the room.

The beast let out a sharp, puzzled chuff, her nose twitching as he finally made contact. Her skin was hot—searingly so—and the fur was surprisingly soft against his cold skin.

He didn’t pull away. Instead, he cupped her massive jaw, his thumb stroking the bridge of her snout.

Their eyes locked. Lucian didn’t look at the beast, he looked for the girl. He threw open the gates of his mind, not with force, but with an invitation.

He projected the memory of the first night they had shared in that cave—not as young prince Lucain and bella, but as Lucain and Isabella.

He didn’t show her their past life, he showed her what they had been through in this one even though it had been rough.

He showed her the look in her eyes when she had first called his name without fear. See me, Isabella, he urged through the bond.

Suddenly, the world above them finally gave way. A massive section of the ceiling groaned and detached, a mountain of stone hurtling toward them.

The Lycan’s instincts were instant, before Lucian could even think to move, she lunged—not at him, but over him.

She arched her massive, powerful back, bracing her front paws on either side of his head to form a living shield of muscle and fur.

The stone crashed against her spine with a deafening roar, shattering into a thousand fragments, but she didn’t buckle.

She took the blow for him, a snarl of protection ripping from her throat. Lucian’s breath. nearly creased. “Isabella!”

The beast looked down at him, her breathing ragged, a thin trail of blood leaking from a small cut on her shoulder.

The golden fire in her eyes flickered. For a split second, the predator’s mask cracked. The irises shifted, the pupils dilating until they looked like the soft, dark eyes of the woman he accepted.

Lu… cian? The sound came through the bond, resounding around his head. It was her. For one fleeting moment, she was back.

But the strain was too much. The ancient power of the Lycan and the trauma of the transformation were a tide too strong to hold back.

Lucian didn’t let go of the connection; he pushed the memory of them even harder, wrapping his consciousness around her like a blanket.

The Lycan’s ears drooped. The golden-red glow in her eyes began to dim, turning into a dull, exhausted amber.

She let out a long, weary sigh that smelled of scorched jasmine and old woods. Her heavy head fell forward, resting in the crook of his neck.

Lucain froze beneath the crushing warmth of her fur, scarcely daring to breathe. The weight of her was immense—solid muscle, ancient power, and the lingering heat of the transformation pressing him into the trembling stone.

But she was no longer tense. No longer hunting. Lucian tightened his hand in the thick fur at the base of her neck. “Isabella…” he murmured hoarsely.

The Lycan made no response. As the memories he had shown her sank into the dark recesses of her consciousness, the ancient creature finally surrendered to exhaustion.

The celestial predator went limp completely. Her towering frame collapsed fully onto him, burying him beneath a suffocating blanket of silver-white fur and blazing heat.

Lucian let out a strained breath, half laugh, half disbelief, his head falling back against the vibrating stone.

Above them, the last fragments of the Veiled Space finally gave way. The ceiling cracked open like breaking glass and light flooded the chamber.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep