Fated To The Cursed Lycan Prince

Crystal’s POV

I suppressed a chuckle, my hand gently pressing against Rufus’ chest as I tried to maintain a serious expression. “I’m going to take a bath. Get out of here,” I said solemnly.

“Wait, there is no hurry.”

Rufus turned around with a mischievous grin, filling the bathtub with water before returning with a set of pajamas and a bottle of essential oil in his hands.

“Do you want some petals?” he asked, presenting a small bag of dried flowers.

Title of the document

I nodded, my eyes scanning the bag. “I prefer the lily’s scent,” I replied.

Rufus chuckled, carefully selecting lilies from the bag and sprinkling them into the pool of water. The room soon filled with a captivating fragrance as the petals floated on the surface, dots of color in the water.

Gently, Rufus hoisted me up and gently placed me on the rustic wooden stool next to the bathtub. He carefully positioned the wheelchair to the side, ensuring it was out of the way.

he lingered by my side. His worries didn’t ease until

over me. I was t*ouched by Rufus’s unwavering support. I mustered a smile and gently pushed his hand away,

you outside,” Rufus reassured me, his hand brushing softly against my head before he

for a moment, my f*ingers absently tracing the delicate necklace adorning

care and devotion. I exhaled

warm embrace of the bathtub, the water

suffusing my

my attire once again, I steeled myself and attempted to move independently. I took slow, measured steps, despite the lingering

my snail’s pace. Relief washed over me as I realized the efficacy of the rehabilitation process. Furthermore, as a werewolf, my inherent regenerative abilities

of strength wafting through my body,

undeniable. I had unwavering faith that with a

an effort to evade Rufus’ keen watchfulness, I decided not to tell him of my

might deploy

in front of him at this point as he would surely find out about my plan. I had to

out of the bathroom, taking note of the stillness that enveloped the room. The only sound that broke the silence was the rhythmic ticking of the clock’s hands against the

eyes across the room, surveying the area to