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.

at the dessert on my plate as I tried to make sense

answer was a resounding no. I didn't like sweets. Never ate

favorite just now, as if I'd

the table. I hated avocado the most, but when it

some durian, which I'd eaten without hesitation only to puke it up in the next

going on? Had I

to dredge up things from the past, but as expected, my head started to ache again. Every time I tried to reach for a memory that lingered in the outskirts of

agreed.

feeling that whatever memory I'd lost was very important. I

hand and fell on 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 my violent

what it was! That scent had only appeared in my

feet and staggered away from the table, desperately looking

instantly next to

with

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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