Deviant Kings: Claimed by The Four Lycan Kings

Adeline’s pov~

"You’re just making me the bigger target in this academy! Do you want me to get killed? Because from where I am seeing right now, it does feel like it."

Before Raven could answer, a young server in an immaculate uniform hurried over. He didn’t dare look Raven in the eye, keeping his head bowed low to the polished wood.

"Lord Raven," the server stammered, his voice thin with terror. "W-what may we prepare for you tonight?"

"Bring a full plate of roasted boar, broth, and hot bread," Raven instructed, his tone cold and detached. He didn’t even look at the menu. His dark eyes remained glued to my face. "And bring Coffee. Now."

"R-right away, Lord Raven," the server squeaked, bowing frantically before turning on his heel and fleeing toward the kitchen.

I glared across the table at him, my knuckles white as I gripped the edge of the velvet seat.

"I told you I don’t want your food," I muttered, my jaw locked tight. "I don’t want your pity, and I don’t want your royal crimson magic making my stomach turn inside out."

At the mention of his blood, Raven’s posture stiffened slightly.

The lazy, dominant posture vanished, replaced by a sudden, dangerous focus.

He leaned forward across the table, his broad chest cutting off the dim light from the chandelier above, bringing his face inches from mine.

"Blake said your body accepted it," Raven whispered, his gravelly voice dropping so low only I could hear it over the low murmur of the hall. His pitch-black eyes searched my face, tracking every twitch of my expression. "He said you didn’t purge the royal blood. He said you’re completely healed."

My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

My mind flashed back to the bathroom—the dark crimson blood splashing against the white porcelain sink, the agonising coughs, and the utter confusion of waking up with my bones completely knit back together despite throwing it up.

I lied to Blake. But staring directly into Raven’s terrifying, searching eyes, the lie felt heavy on my tongue.

"Blake doesn’t know anything," I said coldly, keeping my voice steady despite the panic burning in my throat. "And neither do you."

But I know if a wolfless girl drinks royal crimson and survives without rejecting it, it means her body doesn’t see the magic as a threat. It means her soul recognises whose blood it is. Lycan’s Royal blood would also follow this usually known mythology.

If the body accepts the Royal blood means it’s a blessing, and if it does not, then it is a curse.

Did my body accept his blood or reject it? I don’t know, but as far as I know, mine did not accept it.

I lied to Blake, knowing full well that if he had known that my body rejected the Lycan blood, which had the most powerful healing phenomenon, he would definitely create a big mess. I might as well be called ’Cursed’ by everyone from then on. One thing I don’t understand is how I healed.

My bruises. Gone.

Crushed ribs. Gone.

Gone as if they never existed.

If my body won’t accept the blood, then I shouldn’t have healed. But then why am I healed?

Raven didn’t pull back. His broad shoulders remained sloped forward over the table, his towering frame casting a dark, inescapable shadow over me.

"Did you throw up my blood or not, Adeline?" he asked, his voice dropping into a deep, gravelly growl.

I leaned back against the soft velvet of the booth, my jaw setting into a tight, defensive line.

"What difference does it make?" I retorted, my tone laced with sharp bitterness. "You forced it down my throat, my ribs are healed, and I’m standing on my own two feet. Why do you care about me throwing up your blood or not? Somehow you force-fed me your blood."

Raven turned dead serious. The air around the table grew thin, cold, and suffocatingly heavy as his Lycan energy spiked, pressing down on my chest like an invisible lead weight.

"I am not joking, Adeline," he rasped, his eyes flashing with a raw, volatile light that sent a violent shiver straight down my spine. "Tell me seriously. Did your body accept my blood or did it not? Did you throw it up?"

"That is none of your business, Raven!" I snapped, my voice rising in sharp frustration as I gripped the edge of the seat.

"Adeline!!!!!! OMG, are you okay??? Your wounds have healed?"

A frantic, high-pitched voice suddenly sliced through the oppressive silence.

Before either of us could react, Sierra came rushing over to the table, her face pale with frantic concern. She was moving so fast, her eyes so hyper-focused on my unblemished face and my fully healed posture, that she didn’t even notice the massive, dark silhouette sitting directly across from me.

I looked up at her, swallowing the lump of tension in my throat, and forced a small, reassuring nod. "I am alright, Sierra..."

Sierra let out a massive sigh of relief, but as her eyes drifted from my face to the person sitting opposite me, she froze dead in her tracks.

The colour drained from her cheeks instantly. The moment her gaze landed on Raven, and the lethal, pitch-black glare he was directing at her for interrupting us—her alpha instincts crumpled.

She straightened her posture immediately, dropping her head into a low, polite bow.

"L-Lord Raven..." she stammered, her voice trembling. She darted a quick, terrified glance at me, her eyes practically screaming in panic. "I mean... we will catch up later, Adeline. I will get going..."

She turned on her heel to flee, but I wasn’t about to let my only ticket out of this highborn nightmare walk away.

"No, just wait!" I spoke up quickly, sliding my legs toward the edge of the velvet booth. "I’ll come with you."

Sierra paused near the aisle, looking back and forth between Raven’s terrifying, unyielding form and my desperate eyes. Her expression turned deeply complicated, torn between wanting to rescue me and wanting to survive the wrath of the Second Throne.

Slowly, hesitantly, she gave me a small nod and began walking toward the grand exit, intending to wait for me just outside the double doors.

I grabbed the hem of my hoodie and prepared to slide out of the booth, but before my feet could touch the marble floorboards, Raven’s voice cut through the air like a heavy steel chain locking into place.

"You are not leaving until you eat," Raven spoke, his tone flat, cold, and absolute.

I stopped, glaring up into the dark void of his eyes. "You can’t force me to sit here, Raven."

"Try stepping out of this booth before that plate hits the table," he warned softly, his gravelly voice carrying an unshakeable, possessive promise, "and I will carry you to my own quarters to finish the meal. Sit back down."

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!