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18 Fever Dreams
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2025-04-18 08:00:37The rainstorm has passed but something still lingers in the air–something heavier than mist but softer than fog. Like something's hanging between us, unsaid. I still don't quite know what it is, only that I find myself thinking about him more than I should.
And it's not just about what he is. A Lycan. A threat. A symbol of the rebellion that took everything from me(though, it was well deserved). No, not just those.It's also about who he is.The way he scowls when he's thinking too hard. How he looks away when I try to touch his arm but doesn't pull back. How he didn't let go of my hand when I was being patched up by Sanders.He doesn't bark at me like before and I've stopped flinching a little when he glares.From my position by the window in my room, I see him now in the gardens. I notice he comes there more often now.But this time around, he's not pacing like a prisoner. Instead, he's just there. Silently watching things. The trees. The wind.
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My Lycan Slave 01 Prologue
My eyes pop open and my senses are overwhelmed with the sound of screams and shouts. My nose feels like it's filled with smoke and something metallic from the smells that surround me, and my mouth is dry and seems to be stuffed with ash. My vision swims as my head spins. Every bone and muscle in my body is screaming with protest even as I try to just turn my head to the side. As I focus and my vision somewhat clears, my eyes widen as I see the world around me is burning. Flames lick at the palace walls, turning gold-trimmed banners into blackened scraps. The once-pristine marble floors are slick with blood and bodies–my family's bodies–are sprawled in unnatural angles. I guess that explains the burning and metallic smell but...what exactly happened? If memory serves, today's the day my eldest brother gets coronated. But the coronation and the feast is long forgotten. The royal banners hang in tatters, torn by the very hands that once served us. This is the end. For me. For the ro
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And then, my eyes pop open and I wake up. Gasping. Alive. My body jerks upright, my hands clutching at my stomach, expecting to feel warm blood and torn flesh. But there's nothing. No wound. No pain. I'm not in the ruined throne room where flames, smoke, and death surround me. I'm in my chambers...at least it's the chambers I remember I had when I was still a child. The canopy of my bed hangs above me, untouched by fire. Sunlight streams through the large windows, golden and soft. The scent of lilacs drifts through the air, carried by the morning breeze. Everything is as it was. Or at least...everything seems to be like a normal day. Panic slams into me, my breath coming in sharp uneven gasps as I try to get my bearings. Was it a dream? A nightmare? No. It seems all too real. Too vivid. I saw the kingdom fall. I remember every scream, the smell of blood, every shattered moment. Heck, I felt pain and felt the life drain out of me! I s
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The grand hall is just as suffocating as I remember. Even more so since this is the place where everything ended for me.Gold and black banners hand from towering columns, and the sigil of the Were royal family gleams under the candlelight. The air is thick with the scent of incense, masking the smell of blood, which is faint, but always present.My father, King Aldric, sits upon his throne, a pillar of cold authority. His dark eyes sweep over me once before dismissing my presence entirely. To his right sits Leonel, the Crown Prince, lounging lazily in his chair. His golden hair sparkled under the light, his smirk already in place.For a brief moment, I see the flashback of the throne with Leonel's dead body, his chest agape, heart gone. I flinch and a shudder passes through me, making me feel nauseous.Somehow, that made Leonel's smirk grow wide. The dumbass probably thought I was scared of him. Well, he can think whatever he likes.Meanwhile, the rest of m
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Casimir's gaze darkens, frustration rippling through him. He wants me to be angry, that's clear. He wants me to react the way every Were he's ever known would. But I won't play into his expectations.Instead, I finish picking the shards and sweeping the tiny pieces in the small dustpan. I stand and head to the small room that serves as a storage room for my cleaning materials, dumping the broken crystal into a trash bag.This room, like every other room meant for Were Royals in the Kingdom, has a small room specifically for their slaves. And no, it doesn't mean that room is supposed to be the slaves' break room but more like a torture or punishment room, depending on what the Were Royal feels like.In my case, I use it as the cleaning room where I store my cleaning stuff. Whenever the borrowed maids don't feel like showing up for their scheduled clean-up, there's no way that I'm letting Sanders do all the cleaning all by himself. Besides, it's a bit unbecoming for him
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A couple of days later...Casimir moves before I even register it. A shadow is shifting in my periphery, and a blur or motion is too fast for my Were eyes to fully process. The next thing I know, he's looming over me, his golden eyes sharp with intent, his body angled forward like a predator about to pounce on his prey.My pulse spikes but I force myself to remain still.I was never a predator type despite me being a Were Royal. It's another pathetic trait of mine that sealed another nail in my coffin as the useless Were Princess in the kingdom.However, there's still some Were in me that gives me the strength not to react to Casimir's predatory aura.I don't look up from my embroidery. If I do, I'll give him what he wants–fear, hesitation, or any sign that I may not be the sadistic and cruel Were Royal but a weak one who he can easily control like a puppet. But I'm not that same girl who once ignored the world because she was too afraid to fight bac
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Latest chapter
My Lycan Slave 18 Fever Dreams
The rainstorm has passed but something still lingers in the air–something heavier than mist but softer than fog. Like something's hanging between us, unsaid. I still don't quite know what it is, only that I find myself thinking about him more than I should.And it's not just about what he is. A Lycan. A threat. A symbol of the rebellion that took everything from me(though, it was well deserved). No, not just those.It's also about who he is.The way he scowls when he's thinking too hard. How he looks away when I try to touch his arm but doesn't pull back. How he didn't let go of my hand when I was being patched up by Sanders.He doesn't bark at me like before and I've stopped flinching a little when he glares.From my position by the window in my room, I see him now in the gardens. I notice he comes there more often now.But this time around, he's not pacing like a prisoner. Instead, he's just there. Silently watching things. The trees. The wind.
My Lycan Slave 12 Too Close
The days after that shift something I can't name. I find myself reaching for Casimir's shoulder whenever I pass him in the hall, a brush of fingers like testing the edge of something fragile. He scowls every time but doesn't pull away. Sometimes, he just grumbles and narrows his eyes like I've done something scandalous but that's it. No more scathing remarks. No more insults. Sanders, of course, notices. "He hasn't left your side since it happened," he tells me while preparing tea one morning. "Even sleeps by the door. Like a guard dog." "He's not a dog," I sat quietly. Sanders smiles faintly. "No. Of course not. But I think he's starting to care." I sip the tea slowly, unsure how to feel about that. Technically, I don't need him to care. I just need him to stay until...well until I can propose a partnership of sorts. But maybe, just maybe–those can be the same thing. Little did I know that something would happen that would finally make m
My Lycan Slave 11 Blood on Snow
The garden is quieter today.Winter hasn't fully left Lunareth yet but the sun shines just enough to melt the ice along the garden path, creating little rivulets that wind around the roots of the tree.Snow clings stubbornly to the shaded corners, a soft white blanket over dying roses and frozen herbs. I shouldn't be out here without a cloak but something in me needed the fresh, cold air. Needed the silence.Not the suffocating and lonely silence of my palace. I want some silence but not total silence. At least outside, I can hear the birds chirping and the breeze whistling.Lilac Palace may be mine in name, but it doesn't feel like it. Not truly. Not yet. Too many walls, too many ghosts.I walk along the stone path, my fingers brushing the brittle petals of a wilted rose. Even in death, it's beautiful. Stubborn. It reminds me of my mother.She loved this garden. She said everything here had a spirit. Even the weeds.Maybe once spring settles down
My Lycan Slave 10 Escape
CasimirNight cloaks Lilac Palace like a thick velvet blanket, the only sound in the air is the rhythmic rustling of leaves outside and the far-off howl of a distant wolf. The corridor outside my room is dim, moonlight slipping through the tall arched windows, painting silver streaks across the marbled floor.And the door to my room? Unlocked.I check it again, just to be sure. My hand hovers over the knob, fingers curling around the metal. It gives way with a soft click.Opening it just a crack, no resistance. No chains. No locks. I hone my senses and no guards. Not even Sanders.I step out, barefoot, silent as the shadow. I narrow my eyes at the silence and the peacefulness of it all. Something tells me this is a trap of some sort.I pad through the corridor, muscles coiled and ready to pounce or counter whatever it is that wants to catch me off-guard. However, the palace is still. No patrols. No alarm.For a princess's palace, this place is pa
My Lycan Slave 09 Hunger Strike
Another day, another uphill climb for me. The silence in the room presses on, thick and heavy, suffocating the space between all of us. Sanders hums softly as he chops vegetables in the kitchen, the sound of his knife against the cutting board the only thing filling the air. I sit on the counter beside him, watching as he prepares tonight's meal. Casimir is leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, face black. It's been three days since he stopped eating. Three days since he started his silent rebellion, expecting a reaction from me. I gave him none. I know what Casimir is doing. He thinks if he refuses food, I will either snap and punish him or force-feed him like the other Were Royals would. His golden eyes bored into my being and I just ignore the uncomfortable stare he's been subjecting me since he started this nonsense. He has been eating fine since he got here. But ever since another failed attempt to get a rise out of me, this is p
My Lycan Slave 08 Strength Test
A couple of days later...Casimir moves before I even register it. A shadow is shifting in my periphery, and a blur or motion is too fast for my Were eyes to fully process. The next thing I know, he's looming over me, his golden eyes sharp with intent, his body angled forward like a predator about to pounce on his prey.My pulse spikes but I force myself to remain still.I was never a predator type despite me being a Were Royal. It's another pathetic trait of mine that sealed another nail in my coffin as the useless Were Princess in the kingdom.However, there's still some Were in me that gives me the strength not to react to Casimir's predatory aura.I don't look up from my embroidery. If I do, I'll give him what he wants–fear, hesitation, or any sign that I may not be the sadistic and cruel Were Royal but a weak one who he can easily control like a puppet. But I'm not that same girl who once ignored the world because she was too afraid to fight bac
My Lycan Slave 07 The Test of Loyalty
Casimir's gaze darkens, frustration rippling through him. He wants me to be angry, that's clear. He wants me to react the way every Were he's ever known would. But I won't play into his expectations.Instead, I finish picking the shards and sweeping the tiny pieces in the small dustpan. I stand and head to the small room that serves as a storage room for my cleaning materials, dumping the broken crystal into a trash bag.This room, like every other room meant for Were Royals in the Kingdom, has a small room specifically for their slaves. And no, it doesn't mean that room is supposed to be the slaves' break room but more like a torture or punishment room, depending on what the Were Royal feels like.In my case, I use it as the cleaning room where I store my cleaning stuff. Whenever the borrowed maids don't feel like showing up for their scheduled clean-up, there's no way that I'm letting Sanders do all the cleaning all by himself. Besides, it's a bit unbecoming for him
My Lycan Slave 06 The Royal Oath
The Royal’s Oath is a sacred magical vow exclusive to the Were royal bloodline, binding the speaker to their word with an unbreakable force. Once sworn, the Oath manifests as a sigil—glowing silver script that appears on the royal’s skin and fades once the promise is fulfilled. It is a mark of power, trust, and absolute authority.It was once a power that dates back to the first Were kings, who wielded it to command loyalty from their subjects and assure them that they are worthy of their loyalty and reverence.If the Were Royal who made the Oath didn't follow through, they will be punished, depending on the severity of the Oath they made. The heavier the promise, the severe the punishment.Now, the Were Royals make it a point to hide the existence of the Oath as much as possible. They even erased records of it from the Royal Library.However, the Lycans are well aware of the whole thing and they refuse to forget it as a reminder that even the W
My Lycan Slave 05 Defiance
I suddenly wake up with a feeling deep in my gut. I look around my dark room, the moon is still high in the sky and everything seems quiet and peaceful.Deceptively so.The air in Lilac Palace is still, too still for my taste. Outside my window, moonlight spills from across the courtyard, illuminating the delicate lilacs in the vase by the window, a soft breeze sways the blooms gently.It should be a peaceful sight but unease prickles at the back of my neck.Something's wrong. I just know it.Without a second thought, I leap out of bed and throw on a robe before stepping out of my chambers. My feet carry me down the hall before I even fully register why, my instincts taking the lead. The palace is quiet at this hour but I trust my instincts.They haven't failed me yet. I just failed myself because I didn't follow and trusted them before.That's when I heard it.A scuffle. A sharp curse. Some heavy footfalls against polished marble.I move
