Betrayed and Claimed by the Lycan King Chapter 292

Isolde's POV

The soft knock on my bedroom door pulled me from my thoughts. I'd been sitting at my vanity, applying the final touches of lipstick.

"Come in," I called out.

Holden's dark hair appeared first, peeking around the edge of the door like a cautious child. Despite everything weighing on my mind lately, I couldn't help but smile at the sight.

"Why are you only sticking your head in?" I asked with a light laugh, turning in my chair to face him properly.

He stepped fully into the room, his expression serious but with a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Your date is here. He's downstairs waiting to pick you up."

"Tell him I'll be right down," I said, rising from my chair and checking my reflection one final time in the full-length mirror. The elegant black dress hugged my curves perfectly, and my makeup was flawless—not too heavy, just enough to enhance my features.

Holden gave me a small bow that was both respectful and playfully theatrical before closing the door behind him.

I smoothed down my dress and grabbed my small clutch and phone from the vanity. There was something refreshing about this—getting ready for a normal date with a normal man who didn't come with the baggage of ancient wolf hierarchies, mysterious disappearing first mates, or the weight of an entire empire on his shoulders.

As I made my way down the stairs, I could see Daryl waiting at the bottom, and damn, he looked good. He wore a perfectly tailored navy suit that emphasized his lean frame, and his dark hair was styled impeccably. When he looked up and saw me descending, that charming smile spread across his face—the same one that had caught my attention at the restaurant.

I found myself smiling back involuntarily as I approached him. There was something so... normal about this. So wonderfully ordinary. No electric shocks running down my spine, no overwhelming scent making my wolf go crazy, no feeling like the world might tilt off its axis. Just a handsome man appreciating a woman he was taking to dinner.

Daryl extended his hand toward me, and I took it without hesitation. He brought it to his lips, pressing a warm kiss to my knuckles in a gesture that was both old-fashioned and endearing.

"You look absolutely stunning tonight, Isolde," he said, his voice warm with genuine admiration. "I'm honored you agreed to have dinner with me."

A light laugh escaped me, and I felt heat rise to my cheeks.

"I'm completely enchanted. In fact, I'm absolutely mesmerized." Daryl continued, his eyes sparkling with what seemed like genuine fascination.

The compliment sent warmth flooding through me, and I could feel my cheeks burning with a pleased blush. God, I'd forgotten how good it felt to be courted by a normal man—especially one who happened to be a gorgeous, successful fashion designer.

Daryl offered me his right arm like a true gentleman, and I slipped my hand through the crook of his elbow, looking up at him with genuine pleasure. He winked at me, causing another giggle to bubble up from my chest.

*If Ezra could see this, he'd lose his fucking mind,* I thought with a mix of satisfaction and defiance. *But you know what? If he can play house with his precious returned mate and keep a whole harem of women in his 'Moon Alliance Program,' then I have every right to enjoy a normal dinner date with an attractive man.*

The thought steeled my resolve. I was done being at the mercy of Ezra's mood swings and mixed signals. If he wanted to juggle multiple women while keeping me on an emotional leash, then he could damn well watch me live my own life.

We turned toward the door, ready to leave, when Holden suddenly stepped directly into our path. He'd changed from his earlier casual clothes into something more polished but still relaxed—dark jeans and a fitted button-down that made him look older than his years.

"Holden," I said, surprised by his sudden appearance.

He didn't look at me. Instead, his gaze was fixed on Daryl with an intensity that would have made grown men uncomfortable. My little brother—well, half-brother—was putting on quite the protective display.

"You again," Holden said, his voice carrying an edge of ice that I rarely heard from him.

Daryl seemed completely unfazed by the hostile reception. "Yes, me again," he replied calmly, his tone pleasant but respectful.

Holden stepped closer, and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing at the absurdity of the situation. "I've counted every hair on her head," he said with dead seriousness, his voice dropping to what I assumed he thought was a threatening tone. "If she comes back missing even one, you'll answer to me."

I had to press my lips together to keep from giggling. Only Holden would threaten someone by referencing hair follicle inventory.

But Daryl, to his credit, took the warning with perfect gravity. "You have my word, sir. I'll return her completely intact, every hair exactly where it belongs."

"Good," Holden said with a sharp nod, finally stepping aside. "You may go."

"Thank you, sir," Daryl replied with what sounded like genuine respect.

"Oh, please, Daryl," I said, rolling my eyes. "You don't have to indulge this nonsense." Holden shot me a sharp look that I ignored.

But Daryl's expression remained serious as he looked between Holden and me. "Actually, I do. In your father's absence, I should properly ask permission to take you out, and Holden is filling that role. I have to respect his position."

The words hit me with unexpected warmth, even as I protested, "Whatever you say."

We walked through the front door and into the cobblestone courtyard, Daryl's arm still linked with mine. Despite my earlier protests about his deference to Holden, I found myself charmed by his combination of old-world manners and modern sophistication. He was witty, intelligent, and refreshingly uncomplicated.

"This is going to be wonderful," I murmured, more to myself than to Daryl, anticipating an evening of normal conversation, good food.

But then Daryl suddenly stopped walking and swore under his breath.

"Oh, shit," he said, his voice tight with surprise.

I stopped too, alarm shooting through me. "What's wrong?"

"Look who's here," Daryl said quietly, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper.

I followed his gaze toward the driveway, and my heart literally stopped beating.

There, leaning casually against a gleaming black custom Bentley with all the confidence in the world, was Ezra.

*This can't be happening.*

The world felt like it had suddenly stopped spinning, leaving me suspended in this moment of absolute disbelief.

*What the hell is he doing here?*