Chapter 66

As the thick iron door crashed to the ground, a cloud of dust billowed up from the dirt floor like smoke. Standing amid the haze, Kennard resembled a harbinger of death, his golden eyes flashing with a cold, blade-like glint. His massive fangs gleamed, sharp and menacing, as if poised to tear into flesh. If looks alone could kill, Kennard’s gaze would have done the job.

A suffocating tension filled the air, gripping the throats of everyone present as his oppressive aura weighed down on the entire training ground. Even from a distance, it was unmistakable—his mood was anything but pleasant. Elena held her breath, unable to blink, transfixed by the sight.

Kennard’s gaze, which had been slowly sweeping over his surroundings, finally locked onto her. Eyes fixed on Elena, he began to stride forward. With each step, his sleek black fur rippled in the wind, his powerful muscles moving in a fluid, almost predatory rhythm.

“H-How… what should we do?” Cura stammered, her voice quaking with fear.

The other knights looked equally stunned, rooted to the spot. No one dared to move a muscle. Compared to the stir Elena’s arrival had caused, Kennard’s sudden appearance sent a deeper, darker shockwave through the crowd, and within seconds, the entire grounds were seized by an overwhelming, palpable fear.

Beryl, a quivering mass of fear, shrank back into his gray wolf form. His ears drooped, tail tucked, as he pressed himself to the cold, damp ground. A faint whimper escaped his lips.

Kennard, a towering, imposing figure, advanced towards Elena, his every step heavy with menace. The other knights, sensing the tension, instinctively backed away. Elena, frozen in place, could only stare up at the imposing alpha, her heart pounding like a drum. His breath, hot and ragged, washed over her, and she could feel the heat radiating off his massive form.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Kennard’s voice rumbled, low and dangerous, a stark contrast to his usual calm demeanor. His golden eyes, filled with a smoldering intensity, bored into her, leaving her breathless.

Elena, caught in his gaze, was paralyzed with fear. Her hands, clenched into tight fists, were numb from the cold. She tried to speak, but no words came out.

Kennard, growing impatient with her silence, clicked his tongue in irritation. He shifted his gaze to Beryl, who was still cowering in the corner. A low growl rumbled in his throat as he bared his sharp, gleaming fangs.

“What was Elena doing here? And why, pray tell, are you in wolf form? Were you planning to attack her?” Kennard’s voice, sharp as a whip, sent a shiver down Beryl’s spine.

Beryl cowered, his tail tucked between his legs. “N-no, Your Grace. She…she wanted to see me transform. That’s all.” His voice trailed off, a pathetic whimper.

“So you showed her? Did you?” Kennard’s furious glare swept over Beryl and the other knights before he turned his gaze back to Elena. “The moment I take my eyes off you, there’s always trouble.”

With a swift, fluid motion, Kennard transformed back into his human form. His dark hair, tousled from the transformation, framed his stern features. He shrugged off his cloak, the rich navy fabric pooling on the ground. One of the knights darted forward, snatched it up, and began dusting it off with his hands.

“Ah! Your Grace!” Elena exclaimed, startled as Kennard lifted her effortlessly. Before she could react, she found herself pressed against his chest.

“If you don’t want to fall, don’t struggle,” he commanded, his voice low.

Without further ado, he strode across the training ground, the knights watching in stunned silence. Cura, who had been frozen in shock, snapped back to reality and hurried after them.

Elena, her face flushed with embarrassment, hid her face in his shoulder. “Your Grace, please put me down,” she whispered. His broad frame shielded her from the curious gazes.

Kennard’s heart pounded against her own. His body heat, usually high, seemed even more intense, radiating warmth through his clothes.

As they approached the castle, Serin appeared, his expression puzzled. “Your Grace, why did you head straight to the training grounds upon your return…?” He trailed off, his eyes widening as he saw Elena in Kennard’s arms.

“And you, what are you doing popping out from there?” Serin asked Elena, confused. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Just as he thought Kennard would walk past, the duke stopped and turned back. Serin, rubbing his forehead in disbelief, looked up at Kennard.

“Titles,” Kennard stated, his tone firm.

“Pardon?” Serin asked, confused.

“Stop addressing Elena informally,” Kennard repeated.

“W-What?” Serin stammered, his voice rising in disbelief. “Your Grace, what are you saying…?”

Elena, startled by the sudden command, lowered her hands from her face. Even Cura, who had been following behind, halted in surprise. Serin’s eyes widened as he glanced between Elena and Kennard. Elena, feeling increasingly embarrassed, quickly covered her face again.

“Are… are you telling me to call her Lady Elena?” Serin asked, bewildered.

“Yes,” Kennard replied curtly, continuing his walk towards the castle, Elena still in his arms.

As they passed through the lobby and ascended the staircase, every attendant stared, their eyes wide with astonishment. Some even covered their mouths, whispering amongst themselves.

“Please, Your Grace, put me down,” Elena pleaded, her voice barely a whisper. But Kennard remained indifferent, his jaw clenched tightly, veins standing out along his sharp jawline. The sight of his restrained anger silenced her; she quickly realized it would be unwise to test his patience any further.

At some point, she had lost sight of Cura, who must have stopped following them. As they continued down the seemingly endless corridor, Elena struggled to breathe under the weight of Kennard’s fury radiating off him.

Still holding her, Kennard tilted his body to open the door to his chamber and stepped inside. Click. The room, though empty, was warmly lit, lanterns casting a soft glow while logs crackled quietly in the fireplace. Sunlight poured through wide-open windows, gently rustling the thick velvet curtains in the breeze.

Elena barely registered these details, tense as she was. Striding across the room, Kennard finally set her down on the bed. She placed her hands on the firm yet soft mattress, instinctively inching backward. Kennard looked down at her, his intense gaze unwavering as he slowly began to unbutton the frock adorned with the Baruchella Empire’s wolf emblem.

“Why did you go there?” Kennard’s voice was edged with irritation as he tilted his head slightly, his gaze shadowed by lowered eyelids and long lashes, still holding that cutting glint. The room, dimmer than the bright outdoors, made his eyes seem even colder under the muted light.

He shrugged off his frock coat, letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud, then began unbuttoning his shirt. After undoing a few buttons, he pulled the fabric over his head, his sleek black hair falling messily across his forehead. As his bare torso was revealed, it seemed to pulse with intensity, his muscles taut and defined, as if no blade could pierce his solid form.

“I… I asked Cura to show me a wolf’s transformation. I wanted to see it,” Elena murmured, quickly turning her head away, her voice barely a whisper.

Just days before, she had seen every inch of him, vividly remembering how his body had pressed against hers. Yet now, even the sight of his bare chest left her struggling to find where to look. Heat flooded her cheeks, and her mouth felt parched.

Another soft sound echoed as something else fell to the floor, followed by the mattress dipping beside her. She stole a quick glance, only to turn away just as swiftly. Kennard, having discarded all his clothing, was now climbing onto the bed. He placed both hands on the mattress, approaching her on his knees, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey.

She couldn’t recall how she’d been breathing until now; the simple act of inhaling and exhaling suddenly felt strange and stilted, and her breaths grew shallow. A shiver rippled down her spine, spreading warmth throughout her entire body—a familiar sensation, though tinged with a thrill that was both unsettling and undeniable.