Marked by the Cursed CEO Alpha-Chapter 37: Rejected

[Blackthorn Enterprise]

Lyra stepped into Blackthorn Enterprises with a calm she had to force.

Her body still felt off, too aware and too alert but she kept her shoulders straight and her expression neutral as she crossed the lobby.

The events of the morning clung to her like a second skin but this was work. It was normal and safe.

Or at least, it was supposed to be.

When she reached the Operations floor, Mira spotted her immediately.

"There you are," Mira said, relief flickering across her face. "I was starting to wonder if you were coming in today."

Lyra offered a small smile. "I almost didn’t."

Mira studied her for a second. "You okay?"

"I am fine," Lyra said automatically. Then she paused. "Actually—about that file you needed—"

Mira blinked. "Oh, did you forget it?"

Lyra winced. "Yeah, I went back to my apartment for it but I never grabbed it."

Mira waved it off. "It’s okay, I will manage without it. Don’t worry about it."

Lyra let out a quiet breath of relief. "Thanks."

She sat at her desk, logged into her system, and tried to focus.

The familiar rhythm of work helped, emails, spreadsheets and routine tasks slowly pulled her back into herself.

For a while, it almost worked.

Then her thoughts drifted.

Kaelen.

The memory of his presence, commanding, overwhelming, impossibly close refused to fade.

Lyra shook her head and forced her attention back to the screen.

That was when she heard her name.

"Lyra Hale."

She looked up.

Riven stood near Jacob’s desk, his expression neutral but his gaze locked onto her.

Conversations nearby dipped, curiosity spreading fast.

"Can we talk for a moment?" he asked.

Lyra hesitated, then nodded. "Sure."

She followed him a short distance away, stopping near the glass corridor. The attention followed them like a weight.

Riven folded his arms. "Why did you go back to your apartment today?"

Lyra stiffened. "Mira needed a file, I forgot it at home."

"That’s the only reason?"

"Yes," she said, a little defensively. "I didn’t expect anything to happen."

Riven studied her for a moment longer, then nodded once.

"Next time," he said quietly, "tell someone before going back alone."

Lyra swallowed. "What happened after I left?"

Riven didn’t answer that.

"And where is Mr. Blackthorn?" she asked, keeping her voice low.

"That’s not something you need to worry about," Riven replied evenly.

The dismissal stung more than she expected.

He pulled out his phone and held it toward her. "Save my number."

Lyra frowned but did.

"If anything happens," he continued, voice firm, "anything that feels wrong, call me immediately."

She nodded. "Okay."

"Good," Riven said. "Go back to work."

He stepped away as smoothly as he had arrived.

Lyra returned to her desk, the murmur of the office slowly resuming around her but the unease stayed lodged deep in her chest.

Across the floor, Riven typed a quick message.

Kaelen: She went back for a file. That’s why she returned to the apartment.

And the reply came almost instantly.

Kaelem: Get it for her.

Riven exhaled and slipped his phone away before walking away.

....

[The Executive Floor—Kaelen’s Office]

Kaelen stood alone in his office, the city stretched beneath the floor-to-ceiling windows like a living map of lights and movement.

The room was silent except for the faint hum of the security system.

On the screen in front of him, the Operations floor glowed in soft resolution.

Lyra sat at her desk, hair tucked behind one ear as she leaned closer to her monitor, brows faintly furrowed in concentration. There was nothing remarkable about the moment, no danger, no drama just her existing in the quiet rhythm of work.

And yet Kaelen felt it.

A low pull beneath his ribs, not violent, not sharp but steady, a presence that didn’t demand but asked.

He hadn’t felt this before, not the curse, not the hunger and the blood-heat that usually came with desire.

This was closeness.

An awareness that settled into his bones and refused to leave.

His gaze traced the subtle details without permission. He kept looking at the way she absently twisted a pen between her fingers, the slight tilt of her head when she read and the quiet determination in her posture.

He clenched his jaw and looked away, pressing his palm flat against the desk.

This was a mistake.

He should not be watching her like this, he should not be letting himself imagine what standing beside her would feel like without the barrier of distance and screens and rules because the truth was unforgiving.

He could not be with her because his curse didn’t just destroy, it devoured. And even if her presence calmed it, even if the chaos quieted around her like a storm learning restraint, the risk remained.

He would not gamble her life on a possibility.

Kaelen closed his eyes, forcing his breathing into control, pushing the desire back into the same iron cage he had built around everything else that wanted to claim him.

This, whatever this was, was not negotiable.

When he opened his eyes again, the screen had gone dark.

Lyra Hale was no longer visible but the echo of her presence lingered, warm and unsettling, etched into him in a way the curse never had.

And that terrified him more than anything.

But Kaelen didn’t make it ten minutes.

As soon as he turned away from the screen, ordered the feeds redirected and told himself, firmly, coldly that distance was the answer, the curse reacted.

It began as a pressure behind his ribs like always, subtle enough that he almost ignored it.

His fingers stilled on the edge of the desk

He inhaled slowly, grounding himself, but the pressure didn’t ease. Instead, it tightened, winding inward, deliberate and offended.

His wolf stirred.

’You are rejecting her,’ it seemed to say.

Kaelen’s jaw clenched. "I am protecting her."

The response wasn’t rage, but pain.

The sensation spread through his chest like something being pulled apart from the inside, not tearing, not breaking just denied.

His heartbeat faltered once, then thudded harder, uneven.

He pressed his palm flat against his sternum, breath shallow now.

This wasn’t the curse as he knew it, this wasn’t bloodlust or loss of control but resistance.

A low, aching protest that radiated outward, sharp enough to make his vision blur for a fraction of a second.

Kaelen straightened, refusing to bend to it.

"I will not touch her," he said aloud. "I will not claim her."

The words tasted like iron.

His wolf recoiled.

The pressure spiked suddenly, fierce enough that he had to grip the edge of the desk again.

A warning.

For the first time, Kaelen understood something with chilling clarity.

The curse wasn’t reacting to Lyra’s presence, it was reacting to his refusal.

The bond wasn’t a trigger but an anchor.

And every time he pushed it away, the curse pushed back harder—angrier, destabilized by the rejection of the one thing that quieted it.

....