The Play-Toy Of Three Lycan Kings-Chapter 376: Troubled II

No one should have been in my quarters at this hour. The whole floor was silent–the kind of deep, controlled quiet that came only after every guard changed post and every unnecessary torch was extinguished.

So when I heard a voice behind me, low and too damn casual, the muscles in my shoulders tightened before I even turned.

"Where are you going?"

Noah stood in the doorway, arms folded, posture relaxed in that way that always hid calculation. The lantern behind him cast a thin rim of gold around his silhouette, making him look like a judgment sitting there with arms crossed.

I exhaled through my nose. "For a walk."

His brows rose. "In the middle of the night?"

"I needed air." I adjusted my cloak. "What are you doing in my quarters?"

He shrugged like it was nothing. "Door was open."

"That doesn’t answer the question." My voice came out harder than I intended.

He tilted his head, studying me with irritating amusement. "You didn’t answer mine either."

I moved past him, brushing the edge of his shoulder. "I don’t owe you answers."

"Maybe not," he said, following me into the hallway, "but I like to know when my older brother is about to do something stupid."

I ignored him. I didn’t have the patience tonight.

"So," he continued, tone too smooth, "you’re serious about courting her."

That stopped me—not physically, but somewhere deeper. I didn’t turn. Didn’t breathe for a heartbeat. "Why are you asking?"

"Because I’m trying to understand," he said lightly, "if this means you won’t be sleeping with Claire anymore."

My jaw locked, but I didn’t reply. I just kept walking. Yet, he followed again, like a damn shadow that refused to detach.

"Adam..."

"That’s not relevant," I said.

"It’s absolutely relevant," Noah murmured. "Especially when it concerns someone like Sage. She’s... unpredictable."

Unpredictable. Dangerous. Untamed. Words I’d been repeating to myself since the goddess threw her into my path.

But I refused—absolutely refused—to allow my mind to wander where it wanted: the possibility that Noah wasn’t saying these things out of concern.

Because he wanted her too.

I didn’t want to think it. Didn’t want to acknowledge the heat that flashed in his eyes earlier that day when Sage stepped into the arena. Didn’t want to pull at a thread that would unravel everything that held us together as brothers.

"I don’t have a choice," I muttered. "I need to know what she’s after."

"Then maybe," Noah said with a slow, thoughtful hum, "I should join the chase. Make her feel wanted."

I stopped walking. The entire hallway felt smaller, tighter, narrowing around us.

"No," I said at last, voice low.

His amusement flickered. "No?"

"That would tip her off."

"You think she’d notice?"

"She notices everything," I snapped. "And you know it."

Silence stretched between us, thick as oil. Then Noah laughed under his breath—the quiet, smug kind that made my wolf rise with a warning growl.

"You’re tense."

I ground my teeth. "You should go to sleep."

"I’m not tired."

"I don’t care. Go to sleep anyway."

He opened his mouth—something mocking probably—but I didn’t give him the chance. I strode down the corridor, reached the end, and pushed through the exterior door into the night air without once looking back to see whatever expression twisted his face.

Whatever it was—want, resentment, something uglier—I wasn’t ready to face it.

—

The night was cold, washed with the silver sheen of a half-moon. The calm soothed some of the irritation burning in my chest, but not enough.

History. Spiraling back on me. All over again.

Why did we always want the same women? Why did fate, or the goddess, or whatever cruel force watched us from above, insist on making desire a competitive field between brothers?

I walked across the courtyard, boots echoing lightly, breath fogging in the cold.

Daniel had been curious about Sage too. I’d seen it—the way his eyes followed her, the small tilt of his head like he wanted to taste what made her so untouchable.

We had shared women before. More times than I liked admitting.

But Maya... I hadn’t shared her. Not once. Her smile had belonged to me, her softness mine alone. And Dora—her fire, her brilliance—had been mine too.

And now Sage.

No. I didn’t want to share her either. The thought soured in my stomach.

I sighed, shoving my hands into my cloak pockets as I approached the outer fields. The path sloped toward the contestants’ compound—a cluster of small, simple houses reserved for temporary fighters.

At this hour, the place should’ve been dead quiet. Everyone had been dismissed days ago. Only two remained. Sage and her friend.

I’d read the report earlier—she was scheduled to move into her new quarters in the morning. A space prepared for her among the elite. Closer to the palace. Closer to me.

It was just like her to rebel against the norm, to decline the offer for days before finally agreeing.

What was I doing here? I asked myself that as the compound gate came into view. A tall wrought-iron structure that gleamed faintly beneath the moonlight. I stopped before touching it.

What was I doing? Searching her out like a fool, like a man being pulled by strings he couldn’t see.

Why else but to start the fake courting? I answered myself bitterly.

Fake. The word sounded wrong even in my thoughts, but I didn’t have the courage to replace it with the truth.

I pushed the gate open. It groaned softly, as if complaining about being disturbed at this hour.

The compound was mostly dark, except for one house—a single golden square of light glowing from the window. Of course it was hers.

My feet moved before I told them to. The night smelled like pine smoke and damp soil, and every step felt heavier than the last, my heartbeat louder in my ears. By the time I reached the porch, I wasn’t sure what the hell I planned to say.

I stood at her door, staring at the wood. My knuckles hovered above it, suspended.

What would I even tell her?

I’m here to court you?

My wolf scoffed, amused. Say it maybe. She respects boldness.

"She’ll laugh at me," I muttered internally. "She might slam the door in my face."

Then she’ll slam it. You’ll open it again.

Idiot creature.

No. I needed something neutral. Something that didn’t expose the way she’d burrowed under my skin.

The caves.

Yes. I could tell her I wanted to show her the caves—neutral territory, isolated enough for privacy, significant enough to justify the late hour.

With that excuse rehearsed, I finally knocked.

Silence.

I waited, then knocked again. Still nothing.

Maybe they were asleep. Though I doubted Sage ever truly slept. I lifted my hand and knocked a third time, firmer.

This time, soft footsteps approached. The door cracked open, then widened, revealing Isla.

Her hair was rumpled, her eyes heavy with sleep. She wore a simple nightgown, one strap slipping slightly off her shoulder before she adjusted it in a flustered motion.

When she realized who stood at her door, she startled—eyes widening, jaw slackening—before she forced herself into composure.

"King Adam," she breathed, straightening. "To what do we owe this visit? Has there been a problem?"

"Not at all," I said, my voice steady. "I am here to see Sage."