The Mind-Reading Mate: Why Is the Lycan King So Obsessed With Me? Chapter 185: The Darkness Behind His Bright Clothes

"Please forgive for my rudeness, Your Majesty," Salem said as he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to calm his tangled thoughts and emotions. "I’m just ... angry about what those kids had to go through. That’s all."

"I understand, Sir Vesper," Primrose replied softly. "There’s nothing wrong with being angry after hearing sothing that awful."

[They just remind of the past,] Salem thought bitterly. [Raven might have killed that bastard ... but his face still haunts every night.]

[What an asshole.]

Who was he thinking about?

Honestly, there were still so many things Primrose didn’t know about Salem.

She didn’t even know what nas he had used in the past and most importantly, she knew absolutely nothing about the life he had lived before they t.

Even when she asked Solene about it, Solene didn’t know much either, since Salem always kept his past tightly guarded.

If he truly was a young master from a noble or wealthy family, surely soone would have recognized him by now.

But no, no one had ever recognized Salem’s face.

"I hope His Majesty will take good care of those children," Salem said. "They deserve a second chance."

[Even I’m still here, aren’t I?] he thought. [It was hell at first... but sohow, I survived, but ... well, life itself is a punishnt anyway.]

Did he go through the sa kind of pain as those children?

But what kind of experience did he an?

Being promised a bright future by soone, only to be thrown into hell?

Had he been hurt? Used? Treated like he didn’t matter?

Or ... had it been all of that?

No. That couldn’t be.

He didn’t look like soone who had experienced sothing that awful.

But then again, what did Primrose really know about him?

Appearances weren’t the only way to understand soone’s true nature or story.

What if his past wasn’t as bright as the colors he wore?

Primrose wanted to ask more, but unfortunately, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

It didn’t feel right to pry into sothing he clearly wanted to keep buried. Besides, Salem also didn’t say all of those things out loud.

"We’ll do our best to help them heal, Sir Vesper," Primrose said, offering a soft, hopeful smile. "Once they’re safe ... would you like to et them?"

Salem looked like he was about to open his mouth, and for a second, he seed ready to agree.

But then, he changed his answer almost instantly.

"No," he said flatly. "Just tell about their progress. I don’t feel the need to et them."

It was bold of him to ask the Queen to report back to him, but since Primrose knew he didn’t an any harm, she let it slide.

"Mhm," she nodded. "Maybe you’ll want to visit once they’re doing better."

Salem didn’t respond out loud, but he said sothing in his mind, [I doubt they’ll get better anyti soon. Who knows ... maybe it’ll take them years just to feel safe around people again.]

Whatever bad things Salem had experienced in the past, Primrose was sure they were so terrible that even his bright clothes couldn’t hide the darkness in his eyes.

• • •

Once Edmund returned to the inn, Primrose finally left Salem alone in the backyard to et her husband.

"What happened to you?" Primrose’s eyes widened the mont she saw Edmund getting off his horse. "Is that blood?!"

She pointed to his shirt, which was slightly damp and stained with sothing red. His hair was also wet, dripping with the sa red liquid.

Had he slaughtered the entire journalists?!

"No! This is wine!" Edmund quickly replied in a panic. "I’m not lying this ti, it really is wine!"

Primrose still rembered the ti Edmund returned to the palace with blood on his clothes. Back then, he insisted it was red paint instead of blood.

She narrowed her eyes, carefully examining the stains on his shirt.

Edmund looked even more anxious. He hurried over to his wife and lowered his head so Primrose could sniff his hair.

"It slls like wine, right?" he said. "It’s not blood! I didn’t kill anyone today!"

He said it like killing soone was as casual as throwing rocks at birds.

Primrose leaned in slowly and took a sniff of the scent coming from his hair and shirt.

It really was wine, no trace of blood.

Primrose let out a sigh of relief. "You scared for a second." She called for the maids to prepare a warm bath for him, then turned back to Edmund. "What happened? Did soone pour wine on your head?"

That sounded incredibly disrespectful, especially since Edmund was the king. Then again, after thinking about it, pouring wine on the king’s head might be better than throwing a table at him.

"No, it wasn’t like that," Edmund murmured, lowering his head even more like he was afraid she’d scold him for telling the truth. "They threw wine bottles at ."

That didn’t sound much better than throwing a table at him!

"Did you get hurt?" Primrose asked worriedly.

She gently pushed back his hair, checking his forehead for wounds. But then she rembered her husband could heal himself within seconds.

"It wasn’t that bad," Edmund muttered.

Primrose softly caressed his forehead, like how she would comfort a child who’d just gotten hurt. "Still, I’m sure it must have hurt."

Edmund froze for a second when he felt her gentle touch. Then, as if sothing clicked inside him, he spoke again. "It actually hurt a lot ... and my forehead was bleeding so much."

[It feels so nice when my wife caresses the spot where I wasn’t even hurt,] Edmund thought. [If I complain about my injuries, will she keep caressing more?]

Primrose was honestly impressed by how fast her husband could switch moods.

Just a mont ago, he was scared to tell her about the wine incident and the next, he was already playing the part of a little boy who’d fallen off his bike, just to get her attention.

Primrose let out a soft sigh, smiling warmly at him. "Where else does it hurt?"

Well ... that was fine.

There was nothing wrong with pampering her husband as well.