Alpha's Rejected becomes the Lycan's Obsession-Chapter 77: Devil on her shoulder

The only sound that could be heard in the room was the faint rustling of paper as Roman turned another page of the book he had been reading. It wasn’t a particularly interesting one, and he had gone over the same sentence at least three times already, but it was better than pacing.

Still, even the book was no match for the unease that gnawed at him as he remained perched on the edge of the plush sofa, never straying too far from the bed.

Then he heard it. A low moan, barely audible, but it sliced through the quiet like a knife. Roman’s body tensed instantly, and the book slipped from his fingers, landing with a soft thud on the carpeted floor.

His head snapped up toward the bed, where Tessy lay, her body still, except for the tiny tremor in her brow. He stared for a long second before pushing off the sofa and making his way to her side. There was a crease—small, but deeply etched—between her brows, like she was trapped in a nightmare. Then another moan escaped her lips, and this time it was more pained, urgent, like a silent plea.

Roman’s heart kicked into a full gallop as he stepped even closer. That was not a normal sound. His eyes caught a glimmer of moisture on her forehead. Sweat. Not just a film of it—but a thick sheen that made her skin glisten under the soft yellow lights of the bedroom. "Tessy?" His voice cracked slightly as he reached out and touched her forehead.

He recoiled as if he had been burned.

She was hot. No—she was burning.

Panic rushed through him like an avalanche, crashing down with no mercy. Her temperature wasn’t just high—it was wrong, like something unnatural was tearing through her from the inside. Roman didn’t wait. His instincts kicked in and he slapped his hand against the bedside bell, calling for Trevor.

He knew it. He knew something had been off. He had stayed in the room for a reason, hadn’t he? His gut had warned him not to leave her side. And now this—this inferno beneath her skin. What was happening to her?

Moments later, Trevor burst through the door, sharp-eyed and alert.

Roman didn’t waste a second. "The hospital, Trevor—she is very sick."

Trevor didn’t argue or hesitate. He pulled out his phone and tapped rapidly. "They’ll be here in ten minutes," he said crisply,"

But Roman wasn’t listening anymore. He couldn’t. The panic was all-consuming now, and his gaze was glued to Tessy’s face, watching the way her lips parted slightly as another breath escaped, shaky and shallow.

"What should I do?" Roman asked, pacing beside the bed, his voice barely keeping its usual commanding timbre. "She’s heating up badly. How do I cool her down?"

Trevor moved toward the bed, calm but focused. "I’ll need to check her to know the way forward."

Roman quickly stepped aside, his eyes watching Trevor’s every move as if the man was holding the key to life itself. Trevor leaned down and placed the back of his hand on Tessy’s forehead. Instantly, his features darkened, confirming what Roman had feared.

This wasn’t just panic. Roman wasn’t overreacting.

"She’s burning up. Umm..." Trevor stepped back, fingers tapping his chin. "I think wiping her body with a cool towel should help. That’s usually the first thing humans do when they develop a fever, right?"

"Cool towel. Cool towel," Roman muttered, spinning in place as if that phrase would magically conjure one. His eyes scanned the room like a wild animal. "Where do I get a cool towel? Do I put it in the refrigerator?"

Trevor would have laughed—or at least given him a disbelieving stare—if the situation hadn’t been so dire. Was this what the great Roman, the Lycan king feared by many, had been reduced to? A mess of nerves and trembling hands over his sick mate?

"I’ll get it," Trevor said instead, his tone level but quick. He dashed out of the room and returned in less than two minutes with a bowl of water and a fresh towel.

"Like this," he demonstrated, dipping the towel into the water, wringing it out just enough, and then gently wiping Tessy’s arms and neck.

Roman nodded once, his jaw tight, and Trevor quietly left the room, trusting him to take it from there.

Roman took the towel in hand, dipping it again, then carefully—deliberately—copied the movements. He started with her forehead, the wet cloth brushing across her fevered skin like a prayer. His strokes were tender, precise, like he was afraid one wrong move might shatter her entirely. Down her arms, across her collarbone, gently around her neck—each pass of the towel removing a layer of heat, a layer of suffering.

Then something miraculous happened.

The tension in her face started to ease, bit by bit. That furrow between her brows smoothed slightly, and the pained whimper she let out next was quieter than the last. It was working. Roman’s chest rose with a flicker of relief—fragile, but real.

Just then, the siren of an ambulance screamed through the early dawn, and moments later, the paramedics stormed through the main entrance.

Roman didn’t wait. He scooped Tessy into his arms, holding her as if she were made of glass, and carried her out of the room with the kind of focus and intensity that turned every eye in the mansion toward him.

As he descended the stairs, the maids and servants peeked from corners, whispering in confusion. What was happening? Why was their boss carrying their madam like that?

Ruby, standing far away by the side of the foyer, couldn’t stop the tears from spilling down her cheeks. Her hands flew to her mouth, stifling a sob. Did Boss Roman hurt her? The thought clawed through her chest, even though nothing in his face said guilt. His features were carved from stone—serious, fierce, but not cruel. Still, seeing Tessy limp in his arms, Ruby feared the worst.

The moment they reached the ambulance, Roman stepped inside with Tessy still cradled to his chest, refusing to let go. The paramedics had to carefully coax her from him so they could administer the IV and monitor her vitals. The hospital wasn’t far. It took barely fifteen minutes before they were inside a private room, and the doctors immediately began drawing blood for tests, setting her up on fluids, checking her breathing, pulse, everything. Roman stood in a corner like a silent storm, watching their every move with clenched fists and gritted teeth, not blinking, not breathing, until they were done.

***

Meanwhile, back in Luminera, the sun had only just started casting golden fingers over the horizon when Williams opened his eyes. The dull ache in his neck reminded him that he’d slept at his office desk again, surrounded by cold food and empty plates. The screen of his computer blinked dimly, and he rubbed his eyes before powering it on, making sure all the reports had gone through.

Then he remembered.

Roman.

He’d tried reaching the guy the night before—multiple times—and gotten no reply. His fingers reached for his phone, the unease already setting in. When he saw no messages from Roman, he called again. Once. Twice. Three times.

No answer.

Williams slammed the phone down with a low groan. Could he even catch a break for once?

As he stood up, straightening his back, the door to the office swung open with a soft creak. A young maid stood there, frozen mid-step like a deer caught in headlights.

"I’m sorry, Alpha!" she exclaimed, dropping to her knees instantly. "I didn’t know you were in here. Beta Vanessa told me to get the plates in your office and it’s so early, I thought you were still in your chambers. Please forgive my foolishness."

The words came out in a nervous rush, as if she had rehearsed them on her way down the hall.

Williams exhaled slowly. "Get up and take the plates," he said, his voice void of emotion.

The girl scrambled to her feet and collected the tray, her hands shaking slightly. Williams left her behind and walked out, nodding absently at the few warriors who greeted him. He moved like a man on a mission, his mind solely on Roman. Something was wrong. He could feel it.

After a quick wash and a change into fresh clothes, he made his way to his private garage and started up one of the cars. He had just pulled out toward the gate when he noticed a group of warriors and Vanessa standing near the entrance.

"Good morning, Alpha," they all greeted.

"Good morning, guys," he replied. Then his eyes settled on Vanessa. "What’s going on?"

"Nothing much, Alpha. Just some disturbance at the border by a few rogues." She paused, squinting slightly. "You’re leaving?"

"Yes. I have to discuss something important with Roman. Won’t take long. Take charge here."

She nodded, and with that, he drove off.

As soon as his car disappeared, a voice muttered beside Vanessa, heavy with irritation. "It’s always about Roman. One would think Roman is his mate. Not that the said Roman gives a fuck about us."

Vanessa’s head turned sharply toward Eldred, one of the oldest warriors. Her eyes were sharp. "Why would he give a fuck about us after everything we did to him? Would you if you were in his shoes?"

The other warriors had already drifted away as soon as William’s car moved. At that moment it was just the two of them there.

"You’re only defending Alpha because you like him. But he doesn’t even see you like that," Eldred said, arms folded, voice laced with bitter amusement.

"Watch your mouth, Eldred," Vanessa warned, her tone low and dangerous.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Relax. Just saying."

She turned, striding back toward the house, but Eldred followed with a sly smirk as he whispered to her hearing alone like a devil on her shoulder. "You know, you can change that, right? Just say you’re interested, and I’ll tell you what to do to get him to see you exactly how you want him to see you."

Vanessa paused and turned around to face him. "I’m sure you have work to do," she snapped. When he retreated again with the surrender gesture, she continued for the house.

But as she walked, Eldred’s words clung to her skin like oil—unwanted, slimy, but impossible to shake off.