Rejected By My Mate; Claimed By Lycan Quadruplets Chapter 127

Third person POV

Lisa had woken up earlier than usual, stirred by the echoes of laughter and footsteps still roaming in the hallways after the grand celebration of the previous night. Though the pack house had finally quieted, the remnants of festivity lingered everywhere—empty goblets left half-filled with wine, scattered petals from the flower bearers, and an overwhelming sense of exhaustion that clung to the servants who still tidied up what they could before sunrise.

She moved slowly down the wide corridor, the coolness of the marble floor biting her feet even through her slippers. Her body felt slightly heavy, though she told herself it was only the lack of sleep. She had insisted on staying until the end of the ceremony, watching Irene take her place beside Bryan with the dignity of a Luna, watching Baron step down with the grace of an alpha who had seen his years. The sight had been emotional, even overwhelming, but what struck her more deeply had been the way Enzo held himself—stoic, calm, untouchable.

She shook herself as she reached the kitchen door.

The morning air in the kitchen was sharp with the scent of baked bread, fried onions, and strong coffee. Several maids were already bustling about, preparing for the day’s meals. Lisa, though she was not required to lend a hand, felt compelled to help them. She had always been that way—unable to sit idle when others worked. Besides, she wanted to occupy her hands, to silence the racing thoughts in her mind.

“Lady Lisa, you shouldn’t trouble yourself,” one of the older maids whispered when she saw her reach for a tray stacked with plates.

Lisa smiled faintly, brushing off the concern. “It’s no trouble. If I stand around, I’ll only get in the way. Let me help.”

The maid hesitated but gave a small nod, already knowing that Lisa’s kindness was not something to argue with.

Lisa picked up the tray carefully, balancing the plates with ease at first. She moved across the kitchen toward the long counter. But halfway there, her vision began to blur. The edges of the room softened, then spun, and the weight in her arms grew heavier than it should have. She staggered, gripping the tray harder, but it tilted. One plate slipped, clattering loudly to the floor and shattering into pieces.

Gasps filled the kitchen.

“Lady Lisa!” one of the maids cried out, rushing forward.

But before the maid could reach her, another figure had appeared at the doorway—tall, commanding, and striking in his dark attire. Ash.

He crossed the kitchen in three quick strides and caught her arm just as she swayed again. His grip was steady, his voice low but urgent. “Easy. I’ve got you.”

Lisa blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision. “I… I’m fine,” she whispered, though her breath came shallow.

Ash tightened his hold. “You don’t look fine.”

Her legs trembled under her, and without waiting for permission, Ash slid the tray out of her hands, setting it on the counter with controlled precision. Then, without a second word to the staring maids, he lifted her by the arm and guided her out of the kitchen.

The maids exchanged startled looks but none dared question him.

Lisa protested weakly, “I can walk—”

“No,” Ash interrupted firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re pale. If I let you walk, you’ll fall.”

She felt a flush of embarrassment heat her cheeks but couldn’t deny the truth of his words. Her body still felt oddly heavy, her vision duller than it should have been. She leaned against him reluctantly, hating how fragile she must have seemed.

When they reached her chamber, Ash pushed the door open with his shoulder and guided her inside. He lowered her onto the bed with surprising gentleness for someone of his stature.

Lisa exhaled slowly, closing her eyes. “Thank you. I’m sorry for the trouble…”

Ash didn’t reply at first. Instead, he moved across the room, poured water from the jug on her desk into a cup, and brought it to her. “Drink.”

She sat up slightly, took the cup with trembling hands, and sipped. The coolness steadied her.

“You shouldn’t push yourself,” Ash said quietly, watching her closely.

Lisa avoided his eyes, focusing on the water in her cup. “I wasn’t pushing myself. I only wanted to help. That’s all.”

His gaze sharpened, as if he could see through her words. “You nearly collapsed in the kitchen. That isn’t ‘helping.’ That’s ignoring what your body is telling you.”

Lisa frowned faintly but didn’t argue. Deep down, she knew he was right. Yet there was a stubbornness in her that refused to show weakness in front of anyone—especially Ash.

The silence between them stretched, heavy with unspoken thoughts. Ash remained standing at the foot of her bed, arms folded, his presence filling the room. Lisa tried to ignore the way his eyes lingered on her, as though searching for something she wasn’t ready to give.

Finally, she said softly, “You didn’t have to come all the way here. The maids could have helped me.”

“I didn’t trust them to handle it,” Ash replied bluntly.

Her brows drew together. “Why not?”

“Because they’d fuss. They’d panic. And they wouldn’t see what I saw.” His tone dropped lower. “That you’re not just tired. Something’s wrong, Lisa.”

The way he said her name sent a shiver down her spine. She looked away, unwilling to meet his eyes. “You’re exaggerating. I’ll be fine after I rest.”

Ash took a step closer, his shadow falling over her. “Maybe. Or maybe you won’t. Stop pretending you’re invincible.”

Her lips parted, stung by his words. She wanted to snap back, to tell him he had no right to speak to her that way, but the concern in his voice disarmed her. She could hear the sincerity beneath his sharp tone.

She set the cup aside, drawing in a steadying breath. “I don’t need you to worry about me.”

“Too late,” Ash murmured.

The words caught her off guard, tightening something in her chest. Slowly, hesitantly, she lifted her gaze to his. His eyes were darker than usual, intense, as though he was fighting something within himself.

The air between them thickened.

Ash moved closer still, until he was at the edge of the bed. His hand lifted almost unconsciously, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. Lisa froze, her breath catching. His touch was careful, almost reverent, a stark contrast to his usual hard demeanor.

“Don’t…” she whispered, though she didn’t move away.

His eyes searched hers, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then, as if drawn by a force he could no longer resist, Ash leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.

It was not a harsh kiss, not the kind that stole without asking. It was hesitant at first, testing, tasting. But the heat of it burned through her nonetheless, and for a fleeting second, she let herself feel it.

Then reality struck.

Lisa’s eyes widened, and she pushed lightly at his chest, breaking the kiss. She shook her head, her voice trembling. “No… I can’t. I shouldn’t.”

Ash straightened, his jaw tightening. His eyes flickered with something raw—frustration, regret, desire. “Lisa—”

She shook her head again, more firmly this time. “It isn’t right. I can’t do this.”

Guilt flooded her chest, heavier than the dizziness she had felt earlier. She pulled the blanket tighter around herself, creating a barrier between them. “Please… don’t.”

For a long moment, Ash didn’t move. His breathing was heavier than usual, his fists clenched at his sides. Then, with a sharp exhale, he stepped back.

“Fine,” he said hoarsely. “I won’t.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Lisa couldn’t look at him. She stared down at her hands, her heart racing painfully.

Ash turned away, moving toward the door. His voice, when he spoke again, was quieter, almost bitter. “Rest. That’s all I’ll say.”

The door closed behind him, leaving Lisa alone with the echo of his kiss lingering on her lips, and the weight of guilt pressing harder than ever.

But no matter how hard she tried to dismiss it, she couldn’t deny the truth: for that brief, stolen moment, she had wanted it too.