The Lycan King's Fate Calling

Rufus' POV:

As usual, Adela brought dinner for me. She would prepare something different each time, and she had never served me soup again. It seemed that my sudden burst of temper that day had scarred her. "Your Majesty, please try this beef stew. I made it myself." Adela's voice was overly sweet as she set the dish and tableware in front of me. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ (F)indNƟvᴇl.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Besides the stew, there was also a small array of exquisite pastries. I eyed them blankly, vaguely thinking that they were all my favorite. My restless heart slowed its pace. Even though Adela was weak, she was earnest. She must have studied the things that I liked in order to cater to me better.

Maybe Omar was right, and I should be more patient. Adela was my destined mate, after all, brought to me by the Moon Goddess herself. Maybe I just wasn't used to having her around yet, just as Omar had said.

I picked up a fork and scraped a piece of dessert, putting it into my mouth. My lips twisted as soon as the pastry touched my tongue.

Adela reacted immediately. "What's wrong?" she asked in what sounded to me like a cautious voice. "Does it taste bad?"

I hesitated for a moment before shaking my head. "No, it tastes good."

The problem was that it tasted nothing like I imagined, like I expected to be.

My brain seemed to stutter at the thought. Once more, I felt that familiar suffocating sensation, and the white mist blanketed my mind yet again.

I tried to make sense of the chaos raging inside my head. Have I had

a resounding no. I

why did I think that it was my favorite just now, as if I'd been devouring the damn thing my whole

most, but when

This wasn't the first time something like this happened, either. Last time, my mother had brought me some durian, which I'd eaten without hesitation only to puke

what was going on? Had I lost bits of

that lingered in the outskirts of my mind, I would suddenly have this

agreed.

too much about it, but I have this nagging feeling that whatever memory I'd lost was very important. I must get it back

the plate with a loud clang. The incessant pounding in my head was fanning my impulse to rage and destroy. I tried to think of the pleasant scent from that night, knowing that it was the only thing that could quell

That scent had only

was being split open. I shot up to my feet and staggered away from

instantly next

filled with panic.

further. I forcefully shook her off and tried to roar at her to keep her away from me, but couldn't utter a single word. My brain hurt like hell, like dozens of hammers were clobbering it simultaneously, robbing me of the ability to speak,

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