Page 66 of Lycan King's Claim
34
The glow from the window casts a soft light over Sienna, making her appear ethereal in her delicate state. Each day, her vacant gaze cuts through me, a constant reminder of the world we once shared and the abyss that now separates us.
The cruel irony that even in her distant state, life blooms within her is not lost on me. I place my hand over her swelling belly, feeling the tiny kick of our unborn daughter. The miracle of it all — our child grows stronger even as Sienna drifts farther away.
Javier stands at the doorway, a shadow of concern painted across his features. “Xandros,” he begins, clearing his throat, “The kingdoms' assembly is imminent. They've heard…rumors. They're worried about the kingdom's stability, about your potential descent into madness without Sienna's bond.”
My gaze never leaves Sienna. Her once vibrant eyes, now clouded, seem to look through me, lost in a world I cannot reach. The weight of responsibility, the burden of running my kingdom, all pales before the growing dread that I might lose her forever. “What do they suggest?” My voice, though calm, betrays a hint of the storm brewing within.
Javier hesitates, choosing his words with care. “There’s talk of suggesting you take another mate for the kingdom. They don't understand your bond, the depth of your connection to her without it, they believe you are holding on for the sake of it.”
A bitter chuckle escapes my lips. “Let them talk.” Drawing a deep breath, the reality of the situation dawns upon me. The love for my people, my duty to them, wrestles with the raw, unyielding love I hold for Sienna and our unborn child. “I cannot be in two places at once, Javier. If they expect me to choose, they'll never win over her.”
Javier nods, understanding mirrored in his eyes. “The other kingdoms will not take this lightly. The whispers will grow louder, and the Council will be forced to intervene.”
“Then I'll renounce,” I declare. “My Father can take the reins. The kingdom deserves a leader who's present in mind and spirit. I’ll send a formal notice tomorrow, and we’ll make the transition smooth.”
A heavy silence settles between us, filled only with the soft rustling of the curtains and the distant murmur of the storm brewing outside. Javier places a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Your father will understand. None of us are willing to lose her or you.” I nod, I'm sick of fighting with the Council, that is energy best spent with Sienna.
My fingers trace Sienna's belly, the life inside her growing steadily each day. “I must be here for her, for our daughter. She needs me now more than ever, and I can't be chasing after the Council.”
Javier nods, stepping back. “I'll handle the preparations for tomorrow.”
As he departs, I turn my focus back to Sienna. “Hold on, my love,” I whisper, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “For us, for our little girl. I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere.”
The creak of Sienna's bed interrupts my restless thoughts, a cruel reminder that even in movement, she remains distant. As I lean in, our eyes lock — her’s hollow, a haunting echo of what they once were. My heart clenches, the raw ache of her absence a constant pulse.
“Stand,” I command, my voice barely above a whisper.
She rises, her movements mechanical, reminding me of a porcelain doll. Unsteady, vulnerable, yet she stands. It's a victory and a defeat, all at once. My voice trembles as I speak, “Lift your arms,” I tell her, she does and I remove her nightie. “Come on, follow me,” I command her, wandering off into the bathroom where I've left the shower running.
“That's enough.” she stops, and I get undressed, the only thing we haven't mastered is getting her in the bath, so showers it is.
Gently, I guide her into the shower.
In the dim light, I see her — really see her — her once lively curls limp, her glowing skin now pallid. With a dedication born of raw pain, I tend to her — washing her before getting her dressed and back in bed. Just as I've tucked her in, the servant comes with our dinner. Sitting beside her, I speared a piece of broccoli. Lifting the fork, I am about to order her to open her mouth when I see she already had.
“Hungry?” I ask her, staring at her, searching for any change, I find none. My entire life revolving around this maddening yet beautiful woman. I wave my hand in front of her face, nothing. Curiously, I stick my finger in her mouth to see if she recognizes me from the fork.
She doesn't! Her teeth clamping down with enough force to bite it off the moment my fingertip touches her tongue.
“Open! Open your mouth!” I hiss, yanking my finger out. I chuckle at my idiocy, she got me good. I watch the holes close.
I lift the fork, pressing the broccoli to her mouth, making sure not to touch her teeth with the metal of the fork, not wanting her to break her teeth. She chews the broccoli before swallowing without me having to tell her too. It takes me an hour to feed her and by the time I do, my dinner has gone cold, but I don't mind. Instead, I talk to her while I eat, then we watch the local news station before I read one of her books to her. The pages are worn, and the spine of it is starting to fray.
As I lay down after tucking her in bed she does something else she has never done without being prompted to, she rolls into me. I barely grab her shoulders in time before she rolls on her huge stomach. Instead, I settle her on her side, yet some instinct is kicking in, or some memory because this isn't a position I usually put her in. I place her back how she typically sleeps, only for her to resist. “Sienna?” I call out to her, gripping her face in my hands as she rolls to face me again.
“I know you're in there, love. Come back to me,” I tell her, staring at her vacant eyes. Of course, she doesn't reply, and I let her go but keep close enough that she can't roll on her stomach when she surprises me further by placing her ear on my chest.
I stroke her hair, running my fingers through her curls, wondering about her behavior when I remember that sometimes Sienna would do that when I purred. So I do. Tilting my head, she doesn't move or react, but I keep doing it while she stares at the window across the room. With two fingers, I close her eyes before shutting my own.
35
Guilt claws at my insides as I watch Xandros care for me, tenderness in every touch, and patience unlike I've ever seen before. Shame blooms like a poisonous flower in my chest, knowing he shouldn't have to do this, not for someone like me. And beneath it all, I feel the flickers of our bond growing stronger each day, fueled by the blood he willingly gives me.
Today, Xandros is especially anxious, his movements slightly more hurried than usual. My heart aches for him – this is taking its toll on him, too. He once again inserts the line to give me his blood, trying to reinforce, to solidify our bond. As his crimson life flows into me, I can't help but indulge in a storm of thoughts swirling within. When he gives me his blood, I swear I can feel him, feel his fear, longing, doubt, but most of all, love. A love I questioned, one I also ran from, doubting that is what it was.
“Morning, Anna. . .” he murmurs, his voice laden with worry. “I'm going to give you more blood.” he tells me, he always explains anything medically, almost like he is seeking my verbal permission.
