The Lycan King’s Mark (Nevara) by Tiffanie L. Campbell novel Chapter 112

Kael

The castle had that hum again–that soft thrum of normalcy trying to stitch itself back together.

We’d just returned from the lab, finally the blood was drawn. No further delays, no complications.

It should’ve felt like closure.

But as I turned toward the eastern corridor, aiming for my rooms, I heard him behind me.

“You’re not coming to dinner?” Thoren asked.

I slowed but didn’t stop. “Nah. I’ve got some things I want to do.”

Thoren’s tone dipped into amused territory. “Or someone?”

I glanced over my shoulder. “Don’t.”

But the smirk was already there, subtle but smug. “You know you can bring him to dinner, right? Let us

meet this mystery man of yours.”

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. “It’s new. I don’t even really know him yet.”

Thoren nodded, the teasing edge softening. “Of course. That would be fast. Just know… we’ll be looking

forward to it. When you’re ready.”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

We parted ways, and I took the last flight of stairs two at a time, a part of me stupidly expecting-

No. Hoping.

I opened the door to my suite.

Empty.

No coat over the chair. No shoes kicked off by the fireplace. No familiar hum from the bathroom fan or

soft footsteps from the kitchenette.

Just silence.

I stood there for a second, letting the disappointment sink in. Then I muttered to myself, “Don’t be stupid.”

We’d met last night. Last. Night.

What the hell did I think was gonna happen? That he’d just… walt around for me like a house pet?

I was gone all damn day.

I walked into the room, flicked on the softer lights by the bookshelves, and crossed to the mini–fridge. The water bottles were untouched. So were the little snacks I’d stocked up–just in case.

< Chapter 112 – New Teritory

+25 Points

“Course he didn’t stay,” I said under my breath, shutting the fridge harder than necessary. “Would you

have? If it was reversed?”

I dropped onto the couch and leaned forward, elbows on my knees.

I’d told him he could hang out. Said the fridge was stocked, bathroom was his, whatever he needed. Made

it sound casual, because I didn’t want to scare him off.

But I also didn’t give him a reason to stay.

I scrubbed a hand down my face.

“This is why you don’t do this, Kael,” I muttered. “You’re not built for maybe. You like certainty. Control.

Rules.”

And this?

This was none of those things.

I stared at the blank wall like it might blink and tell me what to do.

“I don’t even have his number,” I said out loud, voice dry.

Not his number. Not his full name. Not a hint of where he was from or where I might even begin to look.

Maybe that was intentional.

Maybe Reddick didn’t want to be found.

Maybe last night wasn’t as satisfying for him as it was for me. Maybe he woke up tangled in the sheets, looked at my side of the bed, and felt a flicker of regret.

It was fine.

Fine.

I wasn’t the first man in history to fall into a one–night stand that meant more to him than it did to the other guy. I wouldn’t be the last.

People ghost people.

People disappear.

Nothing new. Nothing tragic. Just… inconvenient.

Still, the air in the room felt stale. I grabbed a clean towel and stalked to the bathroom, stripping out of my clothes like they offended me. The moment the hot water hit my back, my shoulders slumped.

I wasn’t mad, exactly. Just disappointed in myself.

The water poured over me, hot and heavy, and I closed my eyes.

Reddick’s hands were the first thing I remembered.

< Chapter 112–New Territory

+25 Pomts

Firm. Confident. The way he’d backed me against the cold tiles of the shower wall, water streaming over us, mouth slanted over mine like he’d been waiting years to kiss me. His fingers sliding down my stomach, curling around my c**k like it belonged to him. And gods, the way he stroked me–slow at first, just enough

to tease, before picking up pace with every muffled moan he pulled from my throat.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

That definitely wasn’t his first time making a man feel good.

My hand moved before I could stop it.

I was already hard. Already aching.

“Fuck,” I breathed.

No. No, no.

I jerked my hand away and slammed it against the tile.

“Nope. Not doing this.”

I wasn’t about to jerk off to the memory of a man who might’ve already forgotten me.

I cranked the temperature knob hard to the left, letting the icy water shock the heat right out of my body.

I hissed as it hit me, cursing under my breath as my erection deflated under the cold assault.

Then I grabbed the towel and stepped out–heart pounding, pride bruised, and desire still clawing just

beneath my skin.

I got dressed in record time–jeans, hoodie, bare feet padding over the tile as I towel–dried my hair.

Nothing fancy. No reason to impress anyone now.

My stomach growled loud enough to echo.

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