The Lycan King’s Mark (Nevara) by Tiffanie L. Campbell novel Chapter 39

CHAPTER 39

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None of Your Business

Nevara

+25 Points

The dining hall felt quieter once Michelle left.

Not just in volume–but in presence.

Thoren watched the door for a moment longer, like he wasn’t entirely sure she’d stay gone, then turned to

me with a small, crooked smile.

“So,” he said, voice dipping into something softer. “What do you want to do today?”

I blinked. “No idea. I was kind of hoping you’d have one.”

He leaned back, arms folding casually over his chest. The firelight caught the gold in his eyes and for a

second, he looked younger. Lighter.

“I’ve got it,” he said suddenly. “Let’s go shopping.”

I raised a brow. “Shopping? For what?”

“For whatever we want,” he said, grinning like a man with a secret. “Let’s just… be normal people for a few hours. No titles. No politics. No training. Just existing. Together.”

The simplicity of it made my chest warm.

“I’ve never actually had anyone go shopping with me before,” I said honestly.

That made him pause. “What do you mean you’ve never gone shopping?”

“I mean, of course I have, technically,” I said, smiling a little at his expression. “But not shopping–if you

know what I mean.”

He tilted his head. “I don’t. Enlighten me.”

I sighed, tucking one leg beneath me in the chair. “I mean yeah, I’ve run errands. Picked up things I needed. Gotten gifts when I had to. But usually, when I need something? I just… order it online. It shows up. Done.”

He nodded slowly. “Ah. So like… surgical shopping.”

“Exactly. In and out. No fun. No impulse buys. No holding things up to the light just because they look pretty.”

He gave a mock gasp. “You’ve never impulse–bought a weird candle with a name like Midnight Moss Witch King just because the jar looked cool?”

“Never,” I said solemnly.

He slapped a hand over his heart. “Tragedy.”

I laughed. “But you’re right. Shopping like that? Real shopping? With someone who actually wants to be

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< CHAPTER 39 – None of Your Business

there? That does sound fun.”

His grin widened. “Great. Let’s go.”

I looked down at myself. “Just like this?”

He blinked. “Why not?”

“I’m wearing leggings. And a hoodie.”

“So?”

+25 Points

“You’re the king. We’re going out in public. Don’t you think I should put on something a little more…” I gestured vaguely. “Presentable?”

He tilted his head again, considering me for a beat. “No one’s going to care.”

“Thoren.”

“And if they do,” he added, holding up a finger, “random people’s opinions of you are, quite frankly, none of your business.”

I stared. “Excuse me?”

He shrugged. “What? It’s true. People are entitled to their own thoughts. Their own judgments. But unless they’re someone who holds real weight in your life–someone who loves you, supports you, challenges you -then what they think about your hoodie doesn’t matter. It’s not your responsibility to manage someone else’s projections.”

My mouth opened. Then closed again.

He reached for his tea, casual as anything, like he hadn’t just set off a bomb in my brain.

I leaned back, slowly. “Huh.”

“Yeah?”

“That’s… honestly, I’ve never thought of it that way.”

He glanced at me from over his cup. “How did you think about it?”

I hesitated.

And thought about Tobias.

Thought about how every outfit I wore was a silent audition for his approval. How even as an alpha, not a king, he demanded perfection–heels at the right height, makeup perfectly done, dresses tight enough to prove I was his but modest enough to avoid competition. I’d spent years believing that my worth was tied to how palatable I looked standing beside him.

If I wore a hoodie? A hoodie would’ve gotten me a snide remark. A lecture. A cold shoulder at best. Fury

at worst.

< CHAPTER 39 – None of Your Business

I swallowed. “I think… I used to think that if people didn’t approve, I had failed somehow. That their

judgment said something about me.”

Thoren was quiet for a long moment.

Then he said, “You haven’t failed a damn thing. Ever.”

I looked up.

His gaze was steady. Warm. Sure.

“And if someone does look at you sideways today,” he added, “they can take it up with me.”

A small laugh escaped before I could help it. “Gods, you’re bossy.”

“I’m the king. It’s in the job description.”

+25 Points

He grinned at his own words, rising from the table and offering me his hand like he expected a royal curtsy

in return.

I rolled my eyes and took it anyway.

By the time we reached the car, something in me had started to bubble–something fizzy and unfamiliar. Anticipation? Playfulness? I wasn’t sure. But it hummed beneath my skin like a quiet song.

A massive mall loomed ahead as we pulled into the city. Not just big–obnoxiously big. Multiple levels, fountains, escalators, glass ceilings. It looked like something out of a rich girl’s fever dream. The kind of place where everything smelled like vanilla and overpriced leather.

As we walked in, I blinked at the brightness, the sheer number of people, the glittering windows advertising “buy one, get your soul stolen for free.”

“This is…” I turned in a slow circle. “A lot.”

Thoren just smirked. “So. Where do you want to start?”

I thought for a second, then pointed down the right wing. “I say we walk down this side and hit the stores that look interesting. Then when we get to the end, we loop back and hit the ones on the left.”

He nodded, thoroughly impressed. “A woman with a plan. I like it.”

We started our lap, browsing casually through the first few stores. The first was shoes–nothing special. The second had overpriced athleisure that looked like it would disintegrate after one wash. The third was some kind of home decor cave where everything smelled like eucalyptus and glitter.

Nothing really caught my attention.

Until he stopped abruptly in front of a storefront framed in soft gold and velvet drapes.

“Let’s go in here,” he said.

I followed his gaze and laughed. “Seriously? A formalwear boutique? Ballgowns? Tuxes?”

3/5

< CHAPTER 39 – None of Your Business

+25 Points

He gave me an arch look. “Yes. Because Michelle is in town. And the thing about her is… she loves dressing up. Any excuse. If there’s a ball, a banquet, a bake sale that requires a dress code, she’s attending in full glam and dragging me with her.”

“So this is a preemptive strike?”

“Exactly. If I have to go, you have to go.”

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