Rejected By My Mate; Claimed By Lycan Quadruplets Chapter 74

Lisa's POV

The day had started slow.

Too slow.

I sat cross-legged on my bed, chin propped on my hand, staring at the far wall of my room like maybe it would sprout a window and offer me a new view. No such luck. The silence in the room was almost oppressive, broken only by the faint ticking of the clock above my desk.

Calla had been busy since morning—something about helping in the lower kitchens—and because the higher floors were restricted to most of the pack members, my usual options for company were nonexistent. I’d already paced the length of the room six times, flipped through a magazine I wasn’t actually reading, and organized my desk just to have something to do.

Now I was bored enough to consider staring at the ceiling until I fell asleep out of pure desperation.

No. That would be surrender.

With a sigh, I slid off the bed and padded toward the door. If no one was coming to entertain me, I’d just have to find entertainment myself. I’d never actually explored this floor properly—at least, not beyond my room and the route to the staircase. Maybe there was something tucked away here that could kill a few hours.

The corridor was quiet, the kind of stillness that made my own footsteps sound loud in my ears. The walls here were lined with the same rich wood paneling as most of the main building, the air faintly scented with polished oak. A few decorative vases stood in recessed shelves, and the warm glow of the lamps made everything feel calm, still… maybe a little too still.

Halfway down the hall, I noticed a door I didn’t remember seeing before. It wasn’t locked, just closed, and curiosity immediately got the better of me. I reached for the handle, hesitating for only a moment before turning it.

The door creaked open to reveal a library.

A real library.

I stepped inside slowly, taking it all in. The scent of paper and leather hit me first, rich and familiar. Shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, packed with books of every size and color. The carpet was soft underfoot, muffling my steps as I wandered between the aisles. Sunlight streamed in through a tall window on the far wall, casting golden light over the rows of neatly arranged spines.

I ran my fingers along the edges of a few books as I passed, pulling one at random to check the title. Some were fiction, others dense historical volumes, and a few looked like they belonged to specialized pack records.

It felt… peaceful here. Like the kind of place you could lose hours in without realizing it.

I made my way toward the far corner, where a small table stood with a few scattered papers and a neatly inked chart pinned to the wall. My eyes caught on the heading:

**Accomplish Task: Reading Challenge.**

I tilted my head, reading the neat instructions. Apparently, this was some sort of ongoing competition—anyone who beat the top score for books read in a set time got to erase one person’s name from the list entirely. I scanned the chart.

Of course, one name was consistently at the top in bold, confident strokes: **Enzo**.

Figures.

I felt a small smile tug at my lips. The idea of knocking him off his pedestal was unexpectedly tempting. I could almost imagine the look on his face if I managed it—probably equal parts disbelief and irritation. That alone might be worth the effort.

Shaking my head at the thought, I drifted back toward the main shelves, pulling a few books that caught my interest. My stack grew quickly: a historical novel with an intricate map inside the cover, a poetry collection, a book of legends… and, okay, maybe one or two with decidedly romantic-looking covers. Purely for variety, of course.

I was just balancing the last book on the stack when the door opened behind me.

“Let me guess,” a familiar voice drawled, “you got lost and stumbled in here looking for more romcoms.”

I turned sharply to see Enzo leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, his eyes flicking to the books in my hands. He didn’t even try to hide the smirk spreading across his face.

“They’re not romcoms,” I said defensively.

He pushed off the doorway and strolled closer, plucking the top book off my stack without asking. His brow arched as he glanced at the cover. “Right. And this one about two rival bakers falling in love is clearly a political thriller.”

“It’s not what it looks like,” I said, stepping forward to reclaim the book.

He held it just out of reach. “You really do have a type.”

“I do not,” I shot back, trying to grab it again.

He tilted his head, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “You realize you’re confirming my point, right?”

I exhaled sharply, narrowing my eyes. “I’ll prove you wrong.”

“Oh?” he asked, clearly entertained.

“I’m going to beat your score on that reading challenge,” I said, nodding toward the chart on the far wall.

That actually made him laugh—a low, warm sound that somehow managed to be both mocking and genuine. “You think you can out-read me?”

“I know I can,” I replied, squaring my shoulders.

He studied me for a long moment, the corner of his mouth curving into a faint smirk. “Alright, Lisa. I’ll look forward to watching you try.”

With that, he set the book back on my stack and stepped aside, gesturing toward the door as if granting me passage. I brushed past him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a backward glance.

The hallway felt cooler after the warm air of the library. I carried my new treasures back toward my room, the weight of them comforting in my arms.

When I reached my door, I pushed it open—only to find someone already inside.

Ash was sitting on the edge of my bed, his elbows resting on his knees. He looked up when I entered, a faint smile flickering across his face, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Oh,” I said, startled. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Didn’t mean to intrude,” he said quietly, standing. “I just… thought I’d drop these off.”

He held out a small paper bag. I took it, peeking inside to find neatly wrapped snacks—sweet and savory, the kind you’d give someone as a casual gift or a quiet comfort.

“Thank you,” I said softly.

He nodded, glancing toward the door as if already preparing to leave. There was something in his posture—something subdued, like he was carrying a weight he wasn’t ready to talk about.

“Are you okay?” I asked before I could stop myself.

“I’m fine,” he replied automatically, but the way he avoided my eyes told a different story.

He took a step toward the door. My mind was screaming at me to just let him go—he was the Beta, after all, and this was probably none of my business. But my body moved before I could think better of it.

I reached out and wrapped my arms around him from behind.

He froze.

I didn’t say anything, just held on. His back was warm against my cheek, solid and grounding. For a moment, I worried I’d overstepped—but then his shoulders relaxed slightly, a quiet exhale escaping him.

“Lisa,” he said softly, his voice carrying a note I couldn’t quite place.

I tightened my arms just a little. “You don’t have to say you’re fine if you’re not.”

He didn’t answer right away. The silence stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt… still. Steady.

Finally, he placed a hand over mine, giving it a brief squeeze. “Thank you.”

I nodded against his back, even though he couldn’t see me. Then, slowly, I let go, stepping back.

He turned just enough to give me a faint, genuine smile before heading for the door. “Enjoy the snacks,” he said, and then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

I stood there for a moment, the weight of the books still in my arms, the faint warmth of that brief connection lingering like a soft echo.