The Lycan King and his Dark Temptation novel Chapter 323

KATHERINE

"Shhh," he brings a finger to his lips, signaling for me to stay quiet.

I immediately press my lips together. The Duke closes the door and steps closer, his brow furrowed as his gaze drops to my chest.

I watch as he sits on the edge of the bed, my mind a whirlwind of memories, my urge to bombard him with a thousand questions barely contained.

He leans toward me, and I shudder at the closeness, his deep, low voice pouring into my ear.

"Don't call me by my title here. No one can know our identities. We're just a married couple who were attacked by bandits on the road," he whispers, and I swallow hard, nodding.

He straightens slightly, his piercing blue eyes too close.

I start to feel nervous—not just because of his proximity, but because I might have done something unnatural to heal myself.

Did the Duke notice my magic?

He couldn’t have—otherwise, he’d be tying me to a tree and setting me on fire like a torch.

"I… thank you for saving me, Du— I mean, E… Elliot," I say, tasting his name on my lips. It feels strange, yet oddly pleasant.

"How are you feeling? Does your wound hurt a lot?" His gaze lowers, and his fingers hover near my nightgown, stopping just millimeters from the buttons, clearly intending to undo them.

He hesitates, then pulls his hands back. Now that I think about it—who cleaned me up and changed my clothes?

"Did you… change my clothes?" I correct myself quickly.

"Yes, you were covered in blood. I wiped you down as best I could. The lady of the house gave me that gown for you," he explains.

The air between us feels tense and ambiguous.

"Elliot, what exactly happened?" I finally ask, unable to hold back my uncertainty any longer.

He studies me with a conflicted expression.

He tells me we were attacked, that I was kidnapped—I remember that much.

Then I was injured, but he claims it wasn’t as severe as it seemed, just a superficial wound.

I press my hand to my chest. I could swear it was serious—a dagger nearly piercing my heart—but I won’t contradict him. It’s better if he thinks that rather than questioning why I’m still alive.

"Elliot, the person who attacked me was hooded, but the man you killed was the laborer from that grain silo," I frown, forcing myself to recall the details.

"He was asking who I worked for, how I knew about the theft—which confirms that you are being robbed."

He falls into thought.

"This seems far more serious than just stolen grain. The men who attacked us were well-trained—not common laborers. And to dare attack me on my own land…"

I see his pupils contract dangerously.

"Why did you leave the carriage? If you sensed danger, you should have tried to find me. I was never that far away."

"I was pulled down from underneath. You never warned me there was a hidden trapdoor in the floor," I explain.

His expression darkens, turning stormy and menacing.

"I didn’t know either," he confesses. "That carriage is relatively new. And the one responsible for ordering it… is my butler."

I inhale sharply.

So, Mr. Wallace. He was a grumpy man, sure, but also a complete bootlicker when it came to the Duke.

I never imagined he could be responsible for such a serious betrayal.

"Well, he knew we were coming for an inspection. He also heard me talking about the laborers' skirmishes, but something doesn’t add up," I lean back against the headboard, analyzing the facts.

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