Deviant Kings: Claimed by The Four Lycan Kings

Adeline’s pov~

"Back off!"

The shadow in the doorway shifted, and as Miya practically stumbled backwards in terror from his harsh command, I finally saw who was towering over our threshold.

It was Blake.

Lord of the Fourth Throne stood in the entrance, his broad shoulders easily devouring the doorframe.

Miya, recovering from her initial shock, quickly smoothed her expression back into a desperate, charming smile. She leaned toward him, pitching her voice into that sickeningly sweet register all the highborn girls used whenever one of the Four Kings was near.

"Lord Blake," she cooed, her eyes practically sparkling with invitation as she begged for a single crumb of his focus. "Do I owe you the pleasure of helping you with something?"

It was pathetic, really, but I couldn’t even blame her. In this academy, the four princes of the High Thrones weren’t just royals—they were treated like divine, untouchable gods. A single glance from any of them was enough to make a girl the centre of academy gossip for weeks. Everyone starved for their attention, craving their power.

Except now Blake didn’t even acknowledge her existence. His dark, sharp eyes hadn’t flicked to Miya once.

My mind went completely blank as I realised he had been staring directly at me from the exact second the door swung open.

Ignoring Miya as if she were nothing more than furniture, Blake stepped straight past her, his heavy boots thudding against the wood as he marched directly into my personal space.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the sweet, inviting smile vanish from Miya’s face, replaced by a look of stunned, ugly humiliation.

Pure exhaustion flared in my chest. First Raven forcing his way in, and now Blake?

What are they exactly planning to do?

"Lord Blake," I spoke up, my voice tight as I pressed back against the edge of my bed. "What are you doing here? This is a girls’ dorm! You’re not supposed to be here."

He didn’t answer.

I glanced toward Miya for a fraction of a second, catching the venomous, murderous glare she was shooting into the side of my head. If looks could kill, I’d be buried six feet under.

Blake leaned down slightly, his intense gaze slowly scanning my face. His dark eyes locked onto my cheekbone where the violent purple bruising had been hours ago, then lingered on my smooth, unbroken lower lip.

"You’re healed," he observed, his voice dropping into a low, lethal register.

"Yes," I snapped, keeping my chin lifted and my jaw set.

"Did Raven feed you his blood?" Blake asked, the playful air he usually carried completely vanishing, replaced by a razor-sharp, lethal seriousness that made the hairs on my arms stand up.

A loud, terrified gasp echoed from the doorway. Miya had almost lost her mind, her mouth hanging open in absolute horror as the words registered.

Hot news

Raven fed the scentless transfer his blood?

I internally groaned, my stomach dropping into a pit of black despair.

God, why am I dragged into this deep shit? Miya is going to spread this rumour across the entire campus by sunrise.

"That is none of your business, Lord Blake," I said immediately, my tone icy as I pointed toward the hallway. "And I want you to leave right now."

Instead of getting angry, a small, quiet laugh escaped Blake’s throat. The dangerous edge in his eyes softened just a fraction, that insufferable, teasing smirk returning to his lips as his playful demeanour slid back into place.

"How is that none of my business, Adeline?" he asked, tilting his head as he stepped even closer, hovering right over me.

"How is that any of your business, Lord Blake?" I retorted without missing a beat, glaring right back into his eyes. "You don’t rule over my dorm, and you certainly don’t get to demand explanations about who heals me or how!"

Blake’s smirk widened, a dangerous, possessive spark glinting in his dark eyes as he leaned down until his lips were inches from my ear.

"When a Prince of the Second Throne bleeds for a scentless girl, it becomes every throne’s business, pretty girl," he whispered, his rough voice vibrating straight down my spine.

The teasing smirk on Blake’s face didn’t fade gradually—it died instantly, erased by a sudden, razor-sharp intensity that made the air in the room turn ice-cold.

He stepped closer, his dark eyes locking onto mine with a terrifying, analytical focus.

"You are healed," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, completely stripping away his playful facade. "Did you throw up his blood? Like... your body didn’t accept his magic?"

His question slammed into my chest like a physical blow, catching me entirely off-guard. My heart took a violent, erratic leap against my ribs.

How the hell did he know that? How could he possibly guess the exact, humiliating nightmare I just went through in that bathroom this afternoon?

I forced my expression to stay completely stone-cold, burying the sudden spike of panic beneath a wall of sharp defiance.

"I told you to leave, Lord Blake," I spat, my voice tight and unyielding as I gestured toward the open door. "Get out."

Instead of backing off, Blake leaned down until his face was inches from mine, his jaw locked tight with a heavy, suffocating seriousness.

"Did you throw up his blood or not, Adeline?" he repeated, his gravelly voice slicing through the heavy silence of the room. "Answer me."

"NO!" I snapped immediately, the lie flying off my tongue before I could even process it. "Now get out of my dorm!"

For a long, agonising second, Blake just stared at me. Then, the corners of his lips slowly twitched upward into a small, dark smile. A low chuckle vibrated deep in his chest.

"Good..." he murmured under his breath, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable and dangerous.

I blinked, a sudden wave of total confusion washing over my anger.

Good? What the hell was good about that? Why would a Prince of the Fourth Throne care if a wolfless girl’s stomach accepted Raven’s royal crimson? It made no sense. I did cough up his blood—my body did purge the excess magic in that sink. Why did Blake look relieved by a blatant lie? Now, this makes me even more curious. Is it a problem if I say I had coughed up his blood? Oh God, I don’t know which is safe anymore.

Am I gonna die? Or am I gonna die?

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