Tamed By The Lycan Prince

RESTLESS NIGHT

CHAPTER FOUR- 6

-ANTONIO-

The whole night, Antoni tossed and turned in his bed, the sheets tangling around his legs. He had spent the entire night wrestling with his thoughts, swinging between reason and desire. The room felt cold, striking a deep contrast with his racing heart which seemed to be set afire by every thought of her.

Filled with a restless energy, he abandoned his bed and made his way to the balcony. The cool night air brushed his skin like a lover's caress as he took in the breathtaking vista of their lands stretching out before him. The rolling landscape was bathed in the soft white light of the night, the greenery below sparkling like a sea of emeralds, the distant cliffs standing like silent sentinels.

His thoughts were on her again; they always were. He imagined her voice, soft yet strong, like the whispering wind through the trees. He envisioned the glow in her eyes when she would be speaking passionately about something she loved.

Antonio wondered what made her laugh - a hearty chuckling sound or a soft giggle. He imagined her laughter to sound like a clear brook, gentle yet infectious, making one want to join in on the joy. Would her smile be radiant, illuminating her face like the first rays of the sun? Or would it hold an enigmatic charm that only added to her allure?

He longed to know these things, to understand her, to share in her world. Ingrained in him was a growing, gnawing desire to step into her life, however dangerous it could be. His mind wandered to the thought of holding her close, of running his fingers through her pure white hair, and of losing himself in the depths of her captivating crimson eyes.

But everything had happened so fast, and before he knew it, his fated mate had disappeared. Antonio clenched his hands on the cold stone railing of the balcony, his knuckles turning white with the pressure. He was going to find this she-wolf and and punish the werewolf who had harmed her. But for now, he would channel his brewing emotions into his art – his music.

He made his way through the quiet corridors of the palace, making his way towards the grand theater. The imposing wooden door swung open with a gentle push, revealing a majestic concert grand piano - ebony black and gleaming in the morning light that spilled through the ornate stained glass windows. Antonio took a moment to appreciate its elegance before he made his way towards it.

His fingers brushed over the keys, an intimacy borne out of years of practice and dedication. He breathed in deeply, closing his eyes as he let himself be drawn into the music’s embrace. His heart was pounding in his chest, mirroring the rhythm of a symphony that was yet to be played. He could feel it, a composition beginning to take shape deep within him. A melody inspired by her – the she-wolf.

His fingers began to move deftly on the keys, each note echoing in the grand room like a whisper in the wind. It started delicately enough, like a fawn stumbling upon its first steps. The notes were soft, resembling the gentle rustling of leaves under the moonlight or perhaps her silky white hair as it flowed in the breeze.

Slowly but surely, the piece began to evolve, gaining strength and momentum. The melodies were enriched by bold harmonies, much like her character – beautiful yet formidable. Antonio's fingers danced over the keys, each movement deliberate and controlled, as if expressing a desperate yearning for a missed companion.

Suddenly, the music shifted, growing tumultuous. It echoed his own turmoil, the rage he felt at her pain. The notes crashed against each other in powerful waves, a storm brewing within the calm sea of previous melodies. He pounded out a crescendo that shook the room, his fury tangible in every note that reverberated off the grand hall’s walls.

But all storms pass. Gradually, the tempestuous notes began to soften. His anger had been expressed, spent, and now it gave way to grief. The melody was imbued with a profound sadness, evoking the image of the she-wolf alone and betrayed. His fingers lingered on the keys, producing slow, mournful harmonies that were as much a lament for his own loss as hers.

The song transformed yet again into something more complex. Notes interwove seamlessly, reflecting their mating bond - intricate and often indistinguishable. He channeled all his hopes and fears, his joy and pain into the haunting melody – a testament to their uncertain future.

The doors slowly swung open, and a group of servants peeked their heads into the theater. The sound of music had drawn them in, and they were captivated by its beauty. Even though they had seen Antonio perform countless times, there was something different about his music today—a rawness, an openness that left them spellbound. They watched in silent awe as he allowed the magic of the piano to weave a story that echoed through the hallways of the palace and tugged at their hearts.

Even as his audience grew, Antonio remained lost in his world of music. He played with a fervor that consumed him completely—all thoughts of the she-wolf, his fated mate, conveyed through every note and chord he crafted. The servants observed in quiet reverence.

"What is going on here?" The servants spun around. Behind them stood King Rasso and Queen Camilla.

"We heard the music," began one of the braver servants, "Prince Antonio...."

King Rasso and Queen Camilla entered. The servants instinctively stepped aside, creating a path for the royal couple to walk through. Meanwhile, Antonio was completely absorbed, playing with such fervor that he didn't even notice his parents' arrival.

The King and Queen observed their son playing the grand piano with evocative intensity. Queen Camilla, with her gentle soul and empathetic heart, felt the waves of emotion that emanated from every note. Her fingers traced the cool marble railing as she watched Antonio, his back rigid, his shoulders tense. Understanding dawned in King Rasso's eyes when he heard the rich symphony, a mix of longing, rage, and profound sadness.

As parents, they had seen their son lost in his music before, but never quite like this. It was as if a part of him was being poured into each note, spiraling out into the room and filling it with tangible emotion. The heartache was so palpable it was like a living, breathing entity in its own right.

The crescendo began to die down, morphing into a gentle lullaby – a tender goodbye and a hopeful promise of reunion. Antonio’s fingers slowed, each note lingering in the air a moment longer than the last. The room fell silent as the final melancholic notes faded into nothingness. Antonio remained still, his hands frozen over the keys. His eyes were glued to the keys, his expression heavy with sorrow. A profound silence filled the room as everyone waited for him to say something, but he remained silent.

Finally, Antonio lifted his hands from the keys, allowing them to fall into his lap. A sigh escaped him, as though he had been holding his breath. His fingers twitched as if they yearned to continue their dance across the keys, but he was done for now. The music that had once flowed like a torrent was finally at peace.

Queen Camilla was the first to break the silence. Her voice echoed through the grand hall, soft yet commanding. "Antonio," she began, her words carefully chosen. "That was a profoundly moving piece. You have always been gifted, but today... today, you have shown us something very raw and beautiful."

King Rasso extended his hand to his wife who took it gratefully. A nod of agreement came from him. "Son," he said, words heavy with both admiration and concern as his gaze shifted from Antonio to his grand piano. "What has inspired such a melody? It’s unlike anything we've heard from you before."

Antonio seemed to come back to reality at his father’s words, blinking as if awakening from a trance. He looked up to see his parents standing there, concern etching their royal features. He withdrew his hands from the piano reluctantly, the mark of an artist parting from his masterpiece.

He knew he couldn't tell them the truth, couldn't share with them the torment of the tragic romance that had unfolded before his very eyes and had inspired his mournful melody. He cleared his throat, casting his gaze down at the polished keys once more. "Just...inspiration, father. Nothing more." His words hung heavily in the air.