Chapter 39
His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, his entire body coiled with tension. But the monster that lurked beneath his skin—the one he had spent years chaining down–didn’t break free.
His gaze dropped to my lips–just for a second—before he tore himself away, running a shaking hand through his hair.
“You are impossible,” he muttered.
I bit back a smile. “I’ve been told that before.”
He exhaled sharply. “You think this is amusing?”
“Not amusing.” I hesitated. “Just interesting.”
His eyes narrowed. “You are not afraid?”
I blinked at him.
The way he said it.
Like he had expected me to run.
Like he had spent his entire existence being something to fear.
Slowly, I shook my head. “No.”
Something flickered across his expression, so fast I almost missed it.
But then-
His shoulders slumped, his head dropping forward. He looked exhausted.
I let out a slow breath, moving past him and sinking into the armchair again. “If you want me to leave, you’ll have to throw me out yourself.”
He scoffed. “You are insufferable.”
I grinned. “You like it.”
He made a low sound in his throat but didn’t argue.
Instead, he sat down in the chair across from me, resting his elbows on his knees. His hair was slightly tousled, the scar over his brow more visible in the dim light.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
Then-
His voice was quiet. Tired. “I don’t shift back easily.”
I turned my head, watching him.
His hands flexed, like he was remembering something he didn’t want to. “When the beast takes over.. it is not gentle. It doesn’t release me without pain.”
I swallowed. “But last time?”
His gaze flickered toward me. “You did something.”
1 frowned. “I didn’t-”
“You touched me,” he interrupted. “You grounded me.”
Heat crawled up my neck, but I didn’t look away.
itis lips pressed into a tight line. “That has never happened before.”
8:29 PM
Chapter 39
Something twisted in my chest.
I knew what that meant.
I understood what he wasn’t saying.
I set the book aside, shifting in my chair. “If it happens again…”
His gaze lifted.
I hesitated. “I’ll be here.”
.
He let out a low breath. “That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
1 grinned. “Then it’s on brand for me.”
He shook his head, but I caught it–the smallest tug at the corner of his lips.
Neither of us moved after that.
And somewhere along the way–maybe it was the firelight, maybe it was the exhaustion–my eyelids grew heavy.
The room blurred, the warmth wrapping around me.
I barely registered it when I shifted, my body tilting-
And then-
I felt something solid beneath me.
Not the chair.
Something warmer.
Something stronger.
My eyes fluttered open, and I realized-
I had fallen asleep on Alaric.
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His arm was draped over the armrest, his hand close enough to touch mine. His head was tilted back against the chair, breathing steady, but his expression?
Relaxed.
I blinked sleepily.
And then-
His eyes cracked open.
We stared at each other.
Neither of us moved.
Neither of us spoke.
The silence stretched-
And for the first time since I had met him, Alaric didn’t pull away.
I thed hard to hide my smile, but the warmth spreading through my chest made it impossible.
Alaric hadn’t pushed me away.
He hadrat snapped at me or told me to leave. He had let me stay.
And instead of pulling back, I cuddle closer
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Chapter 39
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It was ridiculous–I knew that. The King of all lands, the feared, cursed Lycan, letting me sleep on him as if he wasn’t the most dangerous man in existence. But I wasn’t thinking about that now. I was too comfortable, too warm, the steady rhythm of his breathing oddly soothing.
I let out a content sigh and let sleep take me.
When I woke up, the fire had burned low, the embers casting faint glows across the library.
And Alaric?
Gone.
I frowned, sitting up quickly, looking around. “Brute.”
The chair where he had been sitting was empty, the space beside me cold.
I huffed, crossing my arms. “Could have at least woken me up instead of sneaking off like some shadow.”
Į stretched, my muscles protesting slightly, and sighed. It was late. I should return to my chambers before Cecelia starts sending out a search party.
I gathered the book I had been reading, carefully placing it back onto the shelf, and turned toward the exit.
That was when I heard it.
A sound.
Soft.
A footstep–barely noticeable.
My body went rigid.
I turned my head slightly, my breath catching in my throat.
The library was silent, but something–someone–was there.
I swallowed, my heartbeat hammering in my ears.
The logical thing to do? Run. Get back to my chambers. Alert the guards.
But instead-
I followed it.
The shadow moved silently, disappearing between two bookshelves.
I hesitated for only a second before stepping forward.
My fingers grazed the spines of old times as I walked deeper into the library, the darkness swallowing me whole. The further I went, the colder it felt.
The shadow flickered ahead.
A figure, tall and shrouded in darkness, moving with purpose.
1 quickened my pace, my breaths shallow.
It led me toward the back of the library, where the oldest books were kept–where no one ever went.
Then-
It stopped.
My pule thrummed
I took another step, my eyes scanning the empty space in front of me.
The figure was gone.
But something else remained.
A stash of scrolls and books, tucked neatly into the shadows, hidden behind the last shelf.
A secret collection.
My skin prickled as I reached forward, my fingers grazing the ancient parchment.
And then-
A gust of air.
A cold whisper against my neck.
I spun around.
Nothing.
The figure had vanished.
I was alone.
But I knew one thing for certain.
Someone had led me here.
And whatever was in these scrolls?
Someone wanted me to find them.
The shadowy figure had disappeared, leaving behind only questions and a stash of old scrolls and books tucked away in the dimmest corner of the library. My breath steadied, but the tension in my body remained.
Who had led me here? And why?
I hesitated only a moment before kneeling, running my fingers over the worn covers. Some of the books were crumbling from age, their bindings cracked and delicate, while others had been deliberately preserved.
Something about this felt off.
I reached for one of the thicker tomes, a leather–bound journal, its cover etched with an unfamiliar crest. The edges of the pages were worn, as if someone had flipped through them too many times, their touch lingering.
A diary.
My pulse quickened as I opened it, skimming the first few pages. The handwriting was elegant but hurried, slanted in a way that suggested it had been written in moments of urgency.
The first page read:
“To the one who finds this, if you value your life, leave the castle. The King’s curse is not what they tell you. It is far, far worse.”
I inhaled sharply, my grip on the book tightening.
A warning.
I glanced over my shoulder, my instincts prickling, but the library remained silent.
Turning the page, I continued reading.
Day 3
I was chosen. They told me it was an honor, that the King had no mate, and he needed a Luna by his side. But now that I am here, I realize they chose me not for love, but for something else.
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Chapter 39
I believe they want to see me die.
The King does not visit my chambers. He does not speak to me during the day. But at night, I feel his presence outside my door. Watching.
Waiting.
I do not think he sleeps.
I do not think he can. I am going mad. He scares me.
He acts like a demon ready to kill me.
Day 7
I heard the screams tonight.
They tried to hide them from me, but I know the truth. They chain him down when the sun sets. Silver–lined shackles, burning his flesh, forcing him into submission.
I snuck into the lower levels of the castle and saw them. The claw marks on the stone walls, the torn remains of his clothes, the blood that had seeped into the floor.
This is not a man.
This is a monster.
Day 12
I made a mistake.
I stayed too late in the hall after sunset.
He saw me.
For the first time since I arrived, he looked at me.
Not with recognition. Not with curiosity.
With hunger.
The guards held him back, but his snarl shook me to my core.
He is losing himself.
And I am running out of time.
A cold shiver ran through me as I flipped through the pages. The entries became more frantic, the handwriting shakier, the ink stained in places with smudges–or maybe tears.
I swallowed, forcing myself to read the next page.
Day 18
They told me the curse could be broken.
That if I loved him, truly loved him, he would be saved.
But they lied.
This curse does not need love.
It needs sacrifice.
And if I stay, I will be the next one to bleed.
I have to find a way out.
My breathing was shallow now, my hands clammy against the leather cover. I turned the next page, my heart pounding.
The final entry.
Day 21
I cannot save him. I tried. But I cannot.
He cannot be saved. If you do…you would die…like me.
