The Lycan King’s Mark (Nevara) by Tiffanie L. Campbell novel Chapter 48

CHAPTER 48 – A Kiss and a Feeling

Nevara

Lunch was quiet after the flowers.

+25 Points

Michelle hummed her way through the meal like she hadn’t just dropped a meadow’s worth of blossoms onto the table. Thoren barely looked at his food, clearly itching to return to whatever kingly nonsense was waiting on his desk. I just tried to chew and swallow without wincing from my bruised ribs.

When the last bite was gone, Thoren leaned over slightly. “I’ve got some work to do, but let me walk you back to your room.”

“Good,” I murmured, pushing to my feet. “After this morning’s run and combat testing, I need a nap, a

heating pad, and probably a new skeleton.”

He chuckled and touched my back lightly, steering me toward the hallway. I didn’t flinch–but I didn’t melt

into him either. Not yet.

“I think I’ll read a bit,” I added as we turned the corner. “Started a book last night and it’s actually pretty

good.”

“Something bloody, I hope,” he said.

I grinned. “Of course.”

The halls were quiet, our footsteps echoing faintly across the stone. We reached my room too fast. I

paused at the door, glancing down the hallway.

No one.

“Come in for a second,” I said, twisting the handle.

He raised a brow but followed.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, I turned. My hand reached up before I could second–guess it

-fingers sliding into his hair, my mouth pressing to his.

He kissed me back instantly, hands braced at my waist but not pulling me in. Not demanding. Just there.

Present.

When I pulled away, he blinked slowly. “Not that I’m complaining, but… what was that for?”

I exhaled. “I know you noticed earlier. When I pulled away. After the training ground.”

“I did,” he said softly. “I figured you’d tell me if you wanted to.”

“I do.” I nodded, letting my hands fall back to my sides. “It wasn’t about you. I just–I’m trying to protect something. Or maybe… rebuild it.”

His expression softened. “Our mate bond?”

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“If it even still exists,” I said, unable to keep the edge from my voice. “You shattered it once.”

+25 Points

“I didn’t want to,” he said quickly. “And it’s still here. I’ve felt it and I know you have as well. Maybe that’s why it didn’t fully sever. Maybe it’s still here because neither of us really let it go.”

I looked away. The electricity buzzed under my skin like it always did when he was this close.

“Maybe,” I whispered. “But regardless of what it is–whatever this thing between us is–it needs to stay

private.”

He frowned. “Private?”

“There are people in the guard who already think I’m getting special treatment,” I muttered. “I heard it

firsthand today. They think I’m sleeping with you.”

He blinked. “Well… I could accommodate that.”

I smacked his chest.

He laughed.

“I’m serious,” I said. “I don’t want anyone thinking I didn’t earn what I’ve accomplished. I need them to see

me, not your shadow.”

“I get it,” he said gently. “We’re taking this slow anyway. It’s fine.”

“Good.” I let out a long breath. “I just wanted to make sure you knew… pulling away didn’t mean I didn’t

want you.”

His eyes burned into mine. “Thank you for telling me. Saves me from spiraling and convincing myself you’d changed your mind.”

I gave a crooked smile.

“Oh–speaking of training,” he added, “Michelle said she watched you today.”

I blinked. “So that was her in the window.”

He nodded. “She told me she stood at the east wing and watched the whole round.”

“That’s kind of… creepy.”

“Creepy?” He looked genuinely confused.

“I don’t know. Just–odd. Why would she do that?”

“Maybe she was just curious,” he shrugged. “I’ve watched you from the window before too.”

My jaw dropped. “You have?”

“Yep.”

“Okay. Well, that’s absolutely creepy. You and Michelle. Creepers. Both of you.”

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–

He laughed, unbothered. “Guilty as charged.”

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I stepped toward the door, pulling it open for him. “Go back to your king stuff. I’m going to read and ice my

pride.”

He turned at the threshold, eyes lingering on me for a beat longer than necessary. “Call if you need me.”

“I won’t.”

But part of me hoped he’d stay anyway.

When the door clicked shut behind him, I crossed to the window and let the curtain fall back into place.

The training yard below was empty now, swept clean of footprints and blood.

But I could still feel it–that moment.

Michelle. Watching me.

It hadn’t been curiosity. Not really. It felt… pointed. Intentional.

Like she wasn’t observing.

She was studying me.

And the way she’d smiled so sweetly at lunch? The flower talk? The perfect pastel pleasantries?

It didn’t match.

There’s something off about her.

Too nice. Too bubbly.

Yet somehow… ominous.

I didn’t know what her game was–but I was going to figure it out.

No one hides behind sunshine forever. Not in a place like this.

Just as I reached for my book, a soft knock rapped on the door.

I tensed, breath caught–but it opened without waiting.

Sabrina peeked in, her usual warm smile in place. “Don’t mean to interrupt, Miss Nevara. Just bringing

something Miss Michelle asked me to deliver.”

I blinked. “Michelle?”

Sabrina stepped inside carrying a small silver tray, neatly folded cloths stacked atop it, already beading with condensation. “Ice packs, wrapped in healing cloths. She said you’d need them after your training.”

I stared at the tray. “She did, did she?”

Sabrina nodded. “Told me specifically to make sure they were infused with calendula, comfrey, and a drop of arnica. All good for bruising and swelling. Smells lovely too.”

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I caught the faint scent rising from the fabric–floral, clean, sharp at the edges. Not unpleasant. Not

familiar, either.

+25 Points

“She’s very thoughtful,” Sabrina added, placing the tray gently on the side table beside my bed. “Said she hoped it helped you feel a little better.”

I forced a smile. “That’s… kind of her. Thank you.”

Sabrina dipped her head and turned to leave, pausing at the door. “Let me know if you need anything else,

alright?”

I nodded. “Will do.”

The door closed behind her with a quiet snick.

And I was alone again.

I glanced down at the tray.

Still cool. Still fragrant. Still wrapped in someone else’s good intentions.

And yet-

My stomach curled the moment I reached for one of the cloths.

I didn’t touch it.

Didn’t even let it brush my skin.

Something about it made every hair on my arm stand up. I didn’t know what–the scent, the softness, the fact that she’d thought to prepare it before I’d even come back from the field. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was just a kind gesture.

But my instincts said otherwise.

I’d learned to trust those.

Even when I didn’t like what they told me.

Slow poison didn’t leave a mark. It crept. It built. It softened you–until you fell.

I stared at the cloths a moment longer, then picked up the entire tray and carried it to the far side of the room, placing it near the open window. Out of reach. Out of mind.

I could find my own ice packs.

My own remedies.

What I wouldn’t do was let someone else decide what my healing looked like–especially not someone I

couldn’t quite read.