CHAPTER 167: CHAPTER 167: THE MONSTER HE LOVED

Lorraine’s POV

We remained on that worn tree stump outside the hideout, the night air curling around us like a living thing. The forest whispered with the sounds of crickets and the distant rush of wind through the leaves. The queen’s gaze was fixed on the dark horizon, but her voice was steady, almost measured, as she turned to me.

"Do you know how I found out what I was? How I found out I was a ghosthound?" she asked.

I shook my head slowly. The word itself, ghosthound, still felt like something out of a nightmare, something I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to understand. But the way she asked, with a strange mixture of pride and heaviness, made me lean in, listening.

She let out a quiet breath before continuing. "When the.... ailment became quite evident to me, I couldn’t ignore it anymore. The joy I took from killing on the battlefield, the way it made my blood sing, the way I relished it, craved it, it couldn’t be normal. There’s a difference between defending one’s land and hungering for the slaughter. I knew it. Deep down, I knew."

Her tone didn’t carry shame, but there was a shadow in it, a dangerous sort of acceptance.

"So I confided in him," she went on, her lips curving faintly. "My Ronan. Kieran’s father. We had already fallen in love then, though neither of us had dared to imagine the storms that would come with it. And that man.... he stood by me. Even when I feared he’d turn away, he didn’t. He looked me in the eyes and said we’d find the truth, together."

The way she said together made something ache inside me. It was the kind of loyalty most people only dreamed of.

"We visited different doctors," she continued, "and healers from far beyond the borders of the kingdom. Some told us it was a sickness of the mind. Others said it was simply the way of warriors, blood makes you want more blood. But none of them understood."

Her fingers curled against her knees, as though gripping something unseen. "And then.... we met the priestess."

There was a pause. Her eyes softened, but her voice dropped lower. "She told us I had inherited a curse. A curse of power, of insatiable bloodlust and rage. She called it by its true name, ghosthound. She was even surprised I had managed to keep the beast inside me chained for so long. Most who bear it.... don’t."

The queen’s gaze found mine, and there was a raw honesty in her stare that made my skin prickle. "Do you know what it means, Lorraine? To live every day knowing there’s a monster inside you, one that doesn’t sleep, one that wants to take over? It’s like standing in an endless storm, holding a door shut with your bare hands, knowing that one day, you’ll lose your grip."

The Queen’s gaze grew distant, her fingers tightening slightly around the hem of her dress

"When Ronan and I discovered what I was," she continued, her voice soft but weighted, "we had to keep it a secret. If his father had found out... they would have called off our engagement in an instant."

Her eyes lowered, lashes brushing against her cheeks like shadows. "It already took so much to get his father to give us his blessing. He was against his son being with a mere warrior from the start. To him, I was unworthy, too common, too.... insignificant. But Ronan fought for me." She gave a small, wistful smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. "And when his father finally, begrudgingly, agreed, we both knew there was no way he would still agree if he learned the truth about what I was. The monster I was."

A shiver ghosted down my spine at the word monster. The way she said it wasn’t bitter, it was factual, as though she had made peace with it long ago. Still, I couldn’t imagine the weight of living with something like that.

"So we kept it hidden," she continued, her voice dropping lower. "Locked away from everyone, even those closest to us. Ronan did everything, anything, to help me. I can’t even put into words how far he went, the lengths he was willing to cross just to protect me."

Her expression softened, and for a moment, her voice trembled, not from fear, but from something far deeper. "He.... he was just the best. I honestly couldn’t have asked for a better man."

I blinked at her, my mind struggling to reconcile the image she painted with the one etched into the world’s memory. Ronan Valerius Hunter. The name was enough to send packs into silence. The ruthless Alpha King whose power and dominance were the stuff of legends, and nightmares.

Yet here was his queen, speaking of him like he was the gentlest soul alive. Like he was the kind of man who would shield her from the world with his own body if needed.

I almost couldn’t believe it. This was the same man? The same man whose mere presence made lesser wolves avert their gaze? It was surreal.

But the way the Queen spoke, it was as if love had been Ronan’s greatest power all along.

The Queen’s voice was calm, but there was something in her tone now, something heavier, almost brittle, like she was peeling back the deepest layers of herself.

"When we finally got married," she began, her eyes distant as if watching the memory unfold in front of her, "and Ronan became Alpha King after his father died.... to the world, we were a powerful couple. Happy. Unshakable. The perfect union of strength and beauty."

She let out a small, humorless laugh. "But on the inside.... the bloodlust was killing me. Slowly. Ruthlessly. It wasn’t just a whisper anymore, it was a constant roar inside my skull. It was taking over me."

I stayed silent, listening, my mind tracing the image of the woman in front of me, the poised, elegant Queen, trying to imagine her consumed by something so primal and vicious.

"That was when we finally decided to confide in our royal physician, Cyrin," she continued. "He was... discreet, and we trusted him. He prescribed wolfsbane. Small doses at first, then more when it became clear that only a steady intake could weaken my wolf enough to quiet the hunger. It worked. It dulled the edge of the bloodlust."

Her gaze fell to the ground. "But taking wolfsbane came with a cost. I couldn’t carry a child. If I ever conceived, the poison would kill the baby in my womb before it could take its first breath."

Her voice faltered slightly at that, and I felt a pang in my chest.

"Ronan told me he was fine with that," she said quietly. "He told me he didn’t care if we never had a child, that he already had everything he needed. But I.... I wanted one. Desperately. Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it was foolish. But the desire was there, deep and unshakable. And when I found out I was pregnant, I made the choice to stop the wolfsbane."

I could hear her breath catch, and for the first time, there was a raw crack in her composure.

"Those nine months," she whispered, "were the most hellish moments of my life. The rage. The constant hunger for blood. It was unbearable. I could barely think. Every scent, every heartbeat around me, it all felt like an invitation to tear, to kill. I would have snapped if Ronan hadn’t been by my side every step of the way."

She paused, her lips trembling for just a heartbeat before she continued.

"He helped me through it all. Do you know.... it got so bad that he started buying entire herds of sheep every night, just so I could slaughter them in secret? Just to keep me from... hurting someone I loved. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t complain. He just.... stayed. That’s the kind of man Ronan is, Lorraine."

I swallowed hard, her words settling deep in my chest. The Queen’s voice wasn’t full of pride, or even gratitude, it was reverence. A love that had been tested in its ugliest, darkest form and had endured.

"And with his support," she went on softly, "I was able to carry Kieran to term. I still don’t know how we survived it. But we did."

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. Her story had taken root in me, leaving my thoughts tangled. I was touched, deeply, but also confused. This was the first conversation the Queen and I had ever had. So why was she opening up to me like this?

The question slipped out before I could stop it. "Why.... why are you telling me all this?"

She looked at me then, really looked. Her gaze was piercing, stripping me down to my very bones. Then she took a deep breath, as if what she was about to say carried the weight of the world.

"Because," she said, her voice was steady now, "I need your help."

My brows knitted. "Help?"

Her fingers tightened over mine. "I need your help in saving my husband... and bringing him back."