Chapter2
1671 Words
Myrcella’s POV
Helen stared at me longer than she ever had. Like she was trying to decide whether to lie or to finally tell me something real.
She chose real.
“Most people think they’re extinct,” she said, lowering her voice to almost a whisper. “But they’re not. Just hidden. Scattered. Watching.”
My skin prickled.
“Fluxwalkers aren’t just rare, Myrcella… they’re unnatural. Born from the union of cursed bloodlines—old magic and primal wolf. That’s why their power is unstable. That’s why they don’t live among packs.”
She returned to my side, began brushing out my damp hair.
“There’s a reason they’re feared,” she continued, her tone harder now. “Because when they choose a mate… they don’t just bond. They claim.”
I swallowed. “What do you mean?”
Helen’s eyes flicked to mine. “I mean they bind you to them in every way. Not just with a mark or a bite. But in the bed. With their body. Their… need.”
My cheeks warmed, and I sat a little straighter, even as my thighs instinctively pressed together.
“Only female Fluxwalkers have the strength to survive being taken by a male,” Helen said plainly. “Because of their lust—it’s not normal. It’s animal. Overwhelming. Brutal.”
I blinked, breath catching. “So what happens to females who aren’t Fluxwalkers?”
Helen paused.
“If a normal girl mates with one… she either breaks. Or she begs to be ruined. There’s no middle.”
My heart pounded harder. She said it like it was fact. Like she'd seen it.
“They say some women never return to themselves again after one night. That their minds get lost. That their bodies ache for the male even if he’s gone.” Her voice dropped to a hush. “That once you’ve been taken by a Fluxwalker, no other touch will ever feel right again.”
A strange chill went down my spine. And yet…
That ache between my legs stirred again.
Helen wasn’t finished.
“And that’s not even the worst part,” she said grimly. “They can smell desire. Even in your dreams. They come to you when your guard is lowest. They lure you with softness, but their true nature is chaos. Violence. Possession.”
My mouth had gone dry.
She stood slowly, folding the towel in her hand.
“Only one thing ever spoke kindly of them,” she said after a beat. “The old scrolls say… they never leave a chosen mate. Not even death can separate them. If a Fluxwalker chooses you, you are his. Forever.”
Something warm bloomed in my chest. Something foolish and small.
A cruel part of me liked that.
Helen tilted her head.
“Why are you asking, Myrcella? You’ve never once brought up such creatures before.”
I blinked too quickly.
“It’s nothing serious,” I said, looking away. “Just… curiosity.”
But the truth?
My thighs were still damp.
My lips still tingled from a kiss that didn’t exist.
And my neck throbbed with the ghost of his bite.
Helen helped me step into the day’s gown—one of deep wine velvet, embroidered with tiny silver moons that shimmered when the light kissed them just right. The corset hugged my waist snugly, the fabric cool against my skin.
Even though I was hidden away in this forgotten tower, my closet was still filled with luxurious dresses, rich silks, and embroidered cloaks. My father never visited, never wrote… but he sent these things.
His way of remembering I existed.
Or maybe just easing his guilt.
He left me here to rot, while his new wife and her perfect daughters basked in golden sunlight and endless feasts in the palace below. And yet… I was still his daughter. A princess, locked in a gilded prison.
Helen laced the back of my dress with careful fingers, then pulled my hair into a soft braid that draped over my shoulder.
I sat down at the old mirror—cracked at the corner, but still honest. My reflection stared back. Pale skin. Wild red hair. Full lips. Wide, strange eyes.
I looked… haunting.
And yet, I whispered, “Helen… am I beautiful?”
She paused behind me.
Then she leaned in, her warm hands resting gently on my shoulders.
“Myrcella,” she said softly, “you are the most beautiful girl I have ever laid eyes on.”
My chest tightened.
She kept going, her voice steady.
“Not just your face. Not just the way the moonlight kisses your skin or how your eyes burn when you’re curious. It’s all of you. There’s a glow inside you the world tried to bury. But it’s still there.”
I swallowed hard. “Then why does everyone call me a cursed thing? An ugly witch? Why don’t they see it?”
Helen’s jaw clenched. “Because they’re terrified of what they don’t understand. You’re different. You were born of two worlds—wolf and witch and that frightens them. But make no mistake, Myrcella… people still whisper about you. Even locked away up here.”
I turned my head slightly. “They do?”
“Oh yes,” she said with a smile. “Every servant in that palace, every lady who passes by this wing... they speak of you. Some with fear, some with awe. But always with wonder. You walk through their minds like a ghost queen they’re afraid to face.”
I bit my lip, uncertain of what to do with that.
Then Helen leaned closer and whispered, “They call you cursed, but curses only scare those too blind to see a blessing.”
I didn’t know whether to smile… or cry.
But for the first time in a long while, I looked into that mirror—and didn’t look away.
Helen dusted a bit of powder across my cheekbones, fussing with the final touches on my appearance.
“Tomorrow, we’re going out to the palace,” she said casually, like she wasn’t dropping a stone into still water.
I blinked. “Out? As in… outside this tower?”
She nodded, tying the last ribbon on my sleeve. “To the palace.”
I raised a brow. “Why? What grand occasion has cracked open my cage?”
“It’s your sister’s wedding,” she said, her voice cautious.
My lips curled slowly. “Ah… which one? The golden child or the pearl?”
“Anna,” she replied. “Queen Seraphina’s first daughter.”
I laughed—soft and wicked. “Of course. The precious Anna. The moon-blessed princess with eyelashes like feathers and a soul pure as frost.”
Helen gave me a look. “Be kind.”
“Why?” I asked with mock innocence, tilting my head. “Will she die if I call her dull?”
“She’s your blood.”
“Half-blood,” I corrected. “Like spoiled milk.”
Helen sighed. “They invited you.”
I placed a hand over my chest in fake surprise. “Me? Surely not. Won’t I ruin the photos? Burn the cake? Send the doves screaming into the sky?”
“Myrcella”
“Will they dress me in black?” I went on, smiling maliciously. “Maybe put a veil over my face and announce me as the cursed one has arrived.”
Helen tried to stifle a chuckle but failed. “You’re being impossible.”
“No,” I said, standing and twirling slowly in the velvet gown. “I’m being honest.”
She folded her arms. “Well, whether you find it amusing or not, you’re going. The king requested it himself.”
That gave me pause. “Father?”
She nodded.
“Hm.” My smile faded into something colder. “How generous of him. Must be running low on royal entertainment. Maybe this year he’ll let me dance before the guests—like a good little freak show.”
Helen’s voice softened. “You don’t have to smile for them. Just show them you’re still standing.”
I met her eyes in the mirror. “Oh, Helen… I plan to do more than that.”
*********
I woke up gasping.
My sheets tangled around my legs, sticky with sweat. My chest heaved as I blinked into the darkness, the taste of his name still thick on my tongue. My hands trembled as they flew to my neck.
It burns again.
I stumbled from the bed, breathless, heart hammering like it was trying to tear out of my chest. I reached the mirror, yanked it close, and tilted my head.
Nothing. No wound.
But I could still feel it. The bite. His bite. The sharp press of his fangs. The way my body arched into him.
The way I wanted it.
My fingers hovered there, over the place where his mouth had been in the dream and where my skin now pulsed as if marked by fire.
I squeezed my legs together instinctively. It did nothing. My thighs were soaked. Between them, slick and aching, a hunger I had no name for. My breasts throbbed, n*****s tight and sensitive, like they remembered his touch—his teasing fingers trailing from my chest down to…
I shook my head.
“No,” I whispered to the girl in the mirror. But my voice was hoarse, desperate. Even my lips hurt—I’d bitten them in my sleep, so hard that now blood welled up at the corner of my mouth.
My whole body felt… foreign.
Restless.
Like it didn’t belong to me anymore.
Like it belonged to him.
I clenched my hands into fists, trying to suppress the burning pressure between my legs. I didn’t understand this. Didn’t know why I craved… more. His touch. His mouth. His presence. Him inside me.
The thought made my stomach twist and my thighs tremble.
What is happening to me?
- Writer
