The Play-Toy Of Three Lycan Kings-Chapter 379: Night Stroll II

ADAM

She stopped.

Not abruptly, not startled—but with a measured stillness that made the night lean closer, as if the world itself had paused to watch what would happen next.

I halted too, my grip tightening unconsciously around her hand.

For a breath, I simply stared at her.

At the angle of her face as she turned slightly toward me. At the way moonlight softened the sharpness of her cheekbones.

At her hair—dark, glossy, falling in a way that didn’t quite sit right in my mind, as though some instinct deep inside me was whispering that this wasn’t its true shade.

Her eyes troubled me more. Too vivid. Too deliberate. As if she’d chosen them rather than been born with them.

And yet none of that mattered. Because the feelings didn’t stop.

They hadn’t stopped since the moment I’d been waiting in her living room, restless, irritated with myself, when she had walked in wearing that casual confidence like a second skin.

They hadn’t stopped when she teased me, slow and deliberate, her voice wrapped in silk and thorns. They hadn’t stopped when I’d taken her hand, telling myself it was only a test, only strategy.

Now they surged.

Looking down at her, standing so close I could feel the heat of her body through the cold night air, an urge slammed into me—violent, sudden, consuming.

I wanted to close the distance.

Wanted to drag her into my arms, bury my face in her neck, press kisses to those full, maddening lips.

Lips that, the longer I stared at them, felt disturbingly familiar. As if I’d known them in another life. As if they had once whispered my name.

They beckoned to me.

The feeling wasn’t desire alone. It was obsession—sharp, invasive, territorial.

She cocked a brow at me, sassy, knowing, clearly aware of the storm tightening behind my eyes. 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

I cleared my throat and looked away. What in the goddess’ name was wrong with me?

I was supposed to be in control. This was supposed to be a game—one where I held the reins, where I unraveled her secrets, not the other way around.

I could not afford to fall for someone who might drive a wedge between me and my brothers.

A scoff sounded in my head, low and unmistakably amused. She is our mate, my wolf said. Not your brothers’.

I ignored him.

I couldn’t stop thinking of Noah. Of Daniel. Of how history had a cruel way of repeating itself. Of how sharing had once felt natural—and how this time, it didn’t.

"Cat caught your tongue?" Sage teased.

The sound that left me was a snort—short, surprised, almost startled out of me. It didn’t even sound like me.

"Yes," I said, more roughly than intended. "We’re going to the caves."

Her brows pulled together.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

She blinked, clearly not expecting the question. "Yes."

But her gaze searched my face. "Why the caves? That’s what I asked the first time. Didn’t you hear?"

I shrugged, forcing casual into my posture, easing the tension coiled tight in my chest. "I wanted to show you more of the pack. You’ll be staying here from now on afterall.."

She hesitated. Just for a second. Then she nodded. "Alright."

Relief spread through me. I tightened my grip on her hand and resumed walking, allowing myself the small, selfish pleasure of her beside me, of our steps falling into sync.

The caves rose before us moments later, ancient and unmoving.

And the moment we crossed the threshold, sounds were swallowed, the night behind us thinned into a memory, replaced by damp stone and a hush that felt reverent, heavy, alive.

The air changed—cooler, denser—carrying the mineral tang of ancient rock and something sharper beneath it: herbs, blood, smoke, old magic.

The path sloped downward, uneven, carved not by tools but by time and ritual. Torchlight clung to the walls in trembling halos, shadows stretching and collapsing as the flames breathed. Water dripped somewhere deep within, a slow, patient sound that echoed like a pulse.

Some things never changed.

I had walked this path as a child, my mother’s voice guiding me through stories older than memory. I had stood here as a boy, as a prince, as a king.

Generation after generation had passed through this cavern, leaving fragments of themselves embedded in its walls.

And now she walked beside me.

Sage’s steps slowed, her fingers tightening briefly around mine—not in fear, but awareness. She was taking it in. Measuring. Reading the place the way one reads a living thing. That alone told me she understood more than she let on.

The goddess’ moon shone through the jagged opening overhead, pale and watchful, as if She herself had bent close to witness this moment.

I felt it then—the strange weight of being seen. Judged. Remembered.

I shook it off.

Inside the main chamber, the priest and the doctor were hunched over something.

They stood with their backs to us, shoulders bent, heads close together in murmured concentration.

The doctor’s hands moved methodically, precise and practiced. The priest traced symbols in the air, faint light flickering at his fingertips before sinking into whatever lay between them.

I couldn’t see what it was.

But they had been working for hours, I knew. On something important. They would let me know once the time was right, I knew.

I wondered if it was about Sage.

When we took another step, both men froze.

The doctor was the first to turn. His eyes lifted—and widened.

Not at me. At her.

For a heartbeat, no one spoke.

The silence stretched, broken only by the hiss of the torches and the slow drip of water.

The priest turned next, his expression smoothing into careful neutrality that fooled no one. His gaze followed the same path as the doctor’s—over Sage’s face, her posture, the quiet confidence in the way she stood.

Too long.

A flicker of irritation rose in my chest, sharp and unwelcome. What were they doing?

I cleared my throat.

The doctor startled visibly, blinking as if shaken from a trance. "Ah... King Adam," he said quickly, straightening.

Then, turning to Sage with a polite nod, "Congratulations on your victory today. Remarkable skill."

The priest inclined his head a fraction. "Indeed. The goddess’ favor is... evident."

His eyes lingered again.

My jaw tightened. At this rate, they might as well spill the truth!

At my silent prompting, the doctor shifted, stepping slightly aside, gesturing to the walls. "This chamber has served the pack for centuries," he began, voice slipping into explanation, as though giving a practiced tour.

"Healing, judgment, rites of passage. The markings you see were etched long before the first king."

Sage listened, unreadable. As usual.

Her gaze moved—not just following his hand, but mapping the space. The carvings. The ritual circle worn smooth by countless knees. The stone slab partially obscured behind them—the one they’d been working over.

I watched her instead of the cave.