EX-HUSBAND'S REGRET: DIVORCED AND CLAIMED BY THE LYCAN KING

Ottomir's POV

"Who's that?"

Ashu didn't even wait for the heavy oak doors to finish rebounding against the stone walls.

He was already halfway across living room, his shoes plodding on the polished marble as he rushed toward Atticus and the King.

I stayed back for a second, my hands clenching into fists behind my back.

The King was alive.

If he was here then that means that Rex and Ren had failed and were now dead. Or they had chickened out.

But then, I spotted a dried red streak on the king's chest and then I knew.

I knew something had happened.

Rex and Ren were gone.

But how could it be? I was very sure that the king was almost disabled whenever it rains.

How was he alive?

He was supposed to be a broken wreck, barely holding onto his dignity. Instead, he looked as if he had just finished a refreshing walk under the rain.

The taste of failure was bitter, like copper in my mouth. I forced my expression to soften, hiding my disappointment behind a mask of calm concern.

Smoothening my features, I stepped forward and followed Ashu who seemed to not be slightly bothered by the King's presence.

"My King," I murmured, the words feeling like shards of glass.

He was standing tall in a trench coat that he wasn't wearing when he'd left the castle earlier. His shoulder length hair was dripping water to the floor.

He looked as regal and poised as ever.

I hated to admit that he looked like a true King.

However, as I drew closer, my focus shifted.

My eyes snagged on the bundle in the King's wet arms

A human.

The King has never held a woman in his arms before. At least, not within the walls of this castle.

The human was soaked to the bone, her long, dark hair plastered across a face that looked like it belonged on a porcelain doll.

Instantly, a different kind of hunger stirred in my gut.

My stomach gave a low, involuntary rumble. It was an old, animalistic instinct, a sharp reminder of what we used to be, once upon a time.

"I hope it's dinner," I said, my voice ringing through the quiet of the room. I let a grin pull at my lips. "I haven't had human meat in seven hundred years."

Ashu snapped his head toward me, shooting me a reprimanding look.

"Human meat isn't as refreshing as animal meat," Ashu tried to wave off my comment as he chuckled nervously.

I shook my head at him as I got closer to see the girl clearly.

Atticus also shook his head, a light chuckle escaping him as he raised a hand to wring the excess water from his cropped hair.

The King didn't even acknowledge me or Ashu.

His eyes remained fixed on the woman as he strode past us, his body leaving a trail of dark droplets on the floor.

"You'll never get your revenge, sorry," Atticus said to me, his tone light but tinged with a genuine sympathy that irritated me more than a slap would have.

Giving him a wry smile, memories flooded my mind, not feeling centuries old at all.

Before the humans built their steel cities, they were simpler and more honest in their cruelty. They knew we existed, and they hated us for it. They used to hunt us not for survival, but for sport, and for the thrill of seeing us bleed.

They had canines with them; hounds they used in luring us out because in their minds, we were just as pitiful as those lowly dogs.

And one unfortunate day, when my pack thought the coast was clear, we were ambushed.

That day is still as clear as spring water in my mind. The man who had murdered my family had worn a chest piece of boiled leather and carried a spear tipped with the highest grade of Silver.

Father had told me to hide after they killed my sister. I watched from the hollow of a log as the man drove that silver through my mother's chest.

The sound of her ribs snapping was a sound I would never forget.

Father had shifted and roared so loud that it should have split the sky, but another blade found his throat before he could reach mother's body.

They died in the dirt, their blood mixing in the brown earth.

The murderer had turned then, his eyes finding mine in the log. He had raised his spear ready to strike. I would have shifted at that point but my emotions were too volatile to let me.

When I closed my eyes, ready to accept my faith... the King arrived.

He tore the murderer from limb to limb and then saved me.

"Atticus," the King's voice cracked through the room, snapping me from the memories.

Atticus immediately moved to the King's side, his demeanor shifting from casual to dutiful in an instant.

He took the unconscious girl from the King's arms, handling her with a gentleness that made my stomach churn.

He carried her to the hearth, and stoked a new fire, placing her on the thick Persian rug near the heat.

Ashu, ever the curious fool, crept closer. He leaned down, his nose wrinkling as he took a long, deep sniff of the girl's damp skin.

"She smells awful," Ashu whispered, his face twisting in a grimace. "Like depression and death."

Atticus nodded solemnly, looking back at the King, who remained standing in the center of the room.

"She smells like tragedy," Atticus affirmed. "I told him so."

I scoffed, leaning against the wall and crossing my arms over my chest. I didn't care about what she smelled like.

To me, she was just another part of the plague that had taken everything from me.

"Yuck, depressed humans are the worst kind" I spat, my voice dripping with disdain. "Why bring her here?"

Every eye in the room turned toward the King who still hadn't said anything or moved from the center of the room.