Chapter 4

Alina

The pulsating throb of pain is the first thing that I notice as my eyes flutter open. Each movement is an exercise in agony, and a sharp spasm in my clavicle wrings an involuntary groan from my throat. Disoriented, I grapple with my surroundings, trying to piece together the fragmented puzzle of my memory. Visions of transformation flicker through my mind—I can almost feel my bones painfully stretching, my skin splitting as my body contorts. Then, a tide of red engulfs my senses, and beyond that, everything dissolves into an indistinct blur.

Now I'm lying in an unfamiliar place, and I have no idea how I got here.

I look around. I'm no longer at Jared's house; instead, it appears to be a dense forest.

As my eyes adjust to the dim light, I realize it's dawn, but the sunlight can barely penetrate through the tree leaves. That's when I notice that I'm dressed, not naked as I should be after the transformation. I'm wrapped in a linen shirt much larger than my body — it covers me almost like a short dress.

The fabric brushes against my sore skin, and I catch a warm, musky scent lingering on it. It's pleasant and intoxicating, completely different from Jared's stench. I get distracted by it for a moment, but my mind quickly snaps back to reality and searches for answers.

With great effort, I manage to sit up.

There are remnants of a campfire here, which can only mean that there's someone else nearby.

I tug at the shirt's collar and look at my clavicle, surprised to see a bandage covering it. What happened to me? Who brought me to this place?

"If I were you, I wouldn't try to mess with that," a deep voice says from behind. The startle makes my heart skip a beat.

I turn my neck towards the sound and instinctively pull my legs together, tugging at the shirt’s hem in an attempt to hide my intimate parts. But I have to hold my breath as I come face to face with the voice’s owner.

He's a tall, muscular man. He has a square face with short, tousled black hair, and eyes as yellow and bright as a gold coin. He's wearing nothing but tight black pants, which accentuate his thighs’ muscles. And other things too. I notice whitish scars scattered across his body, and veins bulging at the end of his well-defined abdomen and biceps. But his right arm is bandaged near the shoulder, with a red stain on the side.

He came carrying a dead deer. The animal's neck is broken, and there's a huge bite on it. The deer's head swings like a pendulum over the stranger's chest as he approaches me.

"Did you sleep well, little girl?" he asks, but I can't respond because my eyes are fixed on the deer's wound. "Looks like you took a beating before you found me and tried to kill me."

Did I try to kill him?

The stranger lays the dead animal right next to me and squats down. He pulls out a knife, which was tucked into his boot’s side, and begins skinning the deer without ceremony. The sight of the fresh meat makes my stomach growl, but that's not where my attention remains fixed.

Now that the stranger is close to me, I'm certain that the musky scent on the linen shirt belongs to him, as the same scent emanates from his skin, and it's so alluring that it’s like my lungs are burning.

Inhaling that scent feels so good. It's a pleasure that borders on fear, because the realization hits me hard: this stranger is a male Lycan, and Agares' Lycan scents have always been synonymous with a threat to me. Why does his scent give me a different sensation?

"Are you unable to talk?" He doesn't look at me as he skins the deer.

"I'm not..." I finally find my voice. "Who are you? Why am I here?" Feeling a sudden pang of fear, I add, "... Where’s my mate?"

The Lycan stares at me and raises an eyebrow. "Your mate? Was it him who attacked you?"

I'm unsure if I should answer, and I'm also unsure if I should break the silence in front of such an imposing Lycan. But if he doesn't recognize me and isn't growling at me, it can only mean that he doesn't know I'm the cursed she-wolf from Agares. Yet, doesn't he realize that I'm an aberration? It's evident in my scent…

I try to crawl away from him. But overcome by a small and rare wave of courage, I lift my nose and speak, "F-first... answer me who you are… and what you did to me while I was unconscious."

The Lycan chuckles softly and brings the blood-stained knife close to his mouth. He licks the blade in a natural movement, but witnessing that scene sends shivers down my spine.

"If that little nose tilt was an attempt to intimidate me, it didn't work. You need more training, little girl," he shrugs and pushes the knife back under the deer's skin. "Answering your questions, even though you didn't answer mine: my name’s Darius. You came running and attacked me at night, and since you seemed injured and couldn't control your wolf-shape, I defended myself until I managed to knock you out without causing further harm. And you gave me a nice scratch in the process, worth mentioning." He gestured to his bandaged arm with a glance. "So you reverted to your human-shape, I brought you to my camp, tended to your wounds, and left my shirt with you because I don't have anything smaller to use to cover you. Then I went out to hunt something for you to eat, and here we are. The end."

Something doesn't seem right in this story. Everything sounded so... simple. No Lycan would avoid hurting me in a fight, especially if I attacked first. But this Lycan spoke so casually that it's impossible to deduce if he's lying or not.

"Now it's your turn," Darius points the knife blade at me. "Did you sleep well?"

It's not the question I was expecting, but I respond by nodding my head in a slow affirmative gesture.

"And was it your mate who attacked you?" He continues.

Apprehensively, I repeat the head nod.

Darius lets out a grunt. "So that guy is a piece of shit. You did well to run away from him... I mean, you ran away from him, right? To be so out of control like that... I can only imagine you went through something terrible." He cuts a piece of meat and offers it to me. "Here. Eat."

I don't move. I remain suspicious. He's being too kind to me. But as I open my mouth to refuse the food—I strangely have no appetite—Darius reaches out with a bloodied hand and grabs my right wrist. I start trembling and close my eyes, expecting him to hit me for not obeying. However, all I feel is the sticky sensation of the piece of meat in the palm of my hand. Darius releases me shortly after.

"I killed this animal for you, little girl. Don't snub me like that. Now, eat."

I slowly open my eyes, not knowing what to say. Darius is looking at me. "You're nothing but skin and bones,” he says, “and if you want to recover properly, you need to eat. The injury on your collarbone was caused by silver... You had bad luck in choosing your mate."

"I didn't choose him." The words slip from my mouth with a bitter taste. I shove the piece of meat into my mouth, chewing quickly and swallowing.

Darius looks confused. "The goddess chose for you? But she never makes mistakes in her choices..."

"That doesn't surprise me..." I stare at the wrist that Darius held, not caring about the blood staining my skin. "Why are you helping me if I tried to attack you? Don't you see that I'm... different?"

Darius grunts again. "What are you talking about?"

I take a deep breath and try to hold his perplexed gaze, fearing his reaction. Since he's been so kind to me, telling him the truth that he seems incapable of realizing on his own is the least I can do.

"I'm cursed... I'm the child of two Lycans, born from a forbidden union."

"I know you're the child of two Lycans, considering you have such a large wolf-shape." Darius looks even more confused. "But where did you get the idea that it makes you cursed, little girl?"

"B-but..." It feels like the weight of the world has crashed down on my shoulders. "Of course I am... I've lived as an outcast in Agares my whole life because of it!"

Something changes in Darius' expression. His eyes take on a feral gleam. "Agares?"

"Yes... I'm a she-wolf born in Agares."

Suddenly, Darius' musky scent becomes even stronger, more threatening... like an alpha’s scent. Who is this Lycan?

"That explains a lot..." He forcefully stabs the knife into the dead deer's ribs, then rises in a swift movement and growls so loudly that the sound makes me flinch. "That damned Ulric!"

"Ulric? But he... he's the Lycan King of Agares."

"Yes, and that bastard owes me a long-standing debt."

"A debt...? Why would a king owe you a debt?"

He snarls the words without looking at me. "Because I’m Darius Montarac, Lycan King of Norden, and the Moon Goddess long ago decreed that every she-wolf born from two Lycans should be brought to my kingdom, for one of them would be my Luna."