THE MAN WHO DIED
1104 Words
“What happened to you?”
Aurelia’s words hung in the air, thick with years left unsaid.
Draven just stared at her. He didn’t say a thing. It was like something from his past had just caught up and slammed into him.
She waited. “Draven?”
He finally looked away, voice rough. “When we were young, you disappeared.”
Her heart squeezed tight. “Disappeared?”
He nodded, barely moving. “Yeah.”
“So? What happened?”
His jaw clenched. “I looked for you.”
“How long?” she whispered.
“Years,” he said.
Aurelia swallowed hard. “All that time, you thought I was dead?”
He met her eyes. “Yes.”
The word almost didn’t reach her, it was so soft.
She searched his face. “You really believed that?”
“I watched them search the river for your body.”
Her breath caught. “But… they didn’t find one.”
“No.”
“So why’d you believe it?”
He looked away again. “Because I saw what happened.”
A sharp chill ran through her. “What did you see?”
His whole body seemed to go rigid. “I can’t talk about that night, Aurelia.”
She took a shaky breath. “Why not?”
He hesitated. When he spoke, his voice cracked just a little. “Because every time I remember it, I remember losing you.”
Whatever anger she’d felt drained right out of her.
For a second, the terrifying Lycan King wasn’t there. Instead, he looked like the boy she used to dream about—the boy she’d left behind.
She spoke softly, almost not daring to ask, “What happened after?”
“I survived.”
“How?”
He shook his head. “That’s the part I can’t tell you.”
Aurelia frowned, sensing something dark. “Why?”
He looked away again, and when he answered, his voice was low. “Because I don’t know who I became that night.”
His words sent a shiver down her spine.
She reached for something—anything—and suddenly noticed his hand resting near hers. She hesitated. Then, without thinking, her fingers brushed his.
Draven glanced at her hand, but didn’t pull away. Instead, he turned his palm up and curled his fingers around hers—gentle, careful, warm.
It felt… strange. Good-strange. Like she’d done it a thousand times before.
She stared down at their joined hands. “Why does this feel so familiar?”
His thumb traced circles across her knuckles. “Because it is.”
She looked up, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then a woman’s voice sliced through their moment. “Your Majesty.”
Aurelia pulled her hand away, flustered, and turned. A striking woman stood in the doorway. Silver dress, perfect posture, eyes that missed nothing.
She smiled right at Draven. “It’s been too long.”
Draven’s gaze went cold. “Lady Celeste.”
Celeste sauntered closer and set her hand lightly on his arm. Aurelia felt her gut twist, but she didn’t know why. She looked away, cheeks hot.
Why does this bother me?
Draven glanced over, catching her expression. Aurelia pretended not to see him.
Celeste kept talking. “I heard you returned with a new—” she paused, eyes flicking over Aurelia, “mate.”
The way she said it—it was almost an insult.
Aurelia tensed. Draven’s eyes narrowed.
“Watch your words,” he warned.
Celeste just smiled, unbothered, and looked Aurelia up and down. “So this is the girl?”
“The girl?” Aurelia repeated, not liking the way it sounded.
Draven shifted, suddenly between them. “She has a name.”
Celeste’s smile faded. “Forgive me,” she said politely, then looked back at Draven. “You should come to the council. They’re waiting.”
“I’ll come when I’m ready.”
She lingered, then touched his arm again. That was enough.
Before Aurelia could even think, she blurted out, “She’s touching you.”
The room went dead silent. Celeste arched an eyebrow. Draven turned slowly toward Aurelia. The corner of his mouth twitched.
“Are you jealous?” he teased, voice soft but smug.
Aurelia’s cheeks burned. “No.”
He grinned wider. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“I’m not jealous,” she snapped.
“You are.”
She shot him a glare. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
He only smiled more. And the worst part? She wanted to smile too.
He stepped closer. “You don’t like her touching me.”
“I don’t care who touches you!” she insisted.
“Then why are you upset?”
She folded her arms. “I’m not upset.”
“You’re jealous.”
“I am not!”
He stopped right in front of her, voice lowering. “Then look at me and say it.”
Aurelia stared up. “I don’t care,” she said—forcing the words from her throat.
He studied her, amused. “Try lying a little better.”
Her heart pounded against her ribs. She hated that he could read her so easily. She hated, too, how quickly she was starting to care. About him—a man she couldn’t remember loving, but whose touch felt like a memory her body hadn’t forgotten.
Draven reached up, fingers brushing her cheek. She froze—breathless.
He leaned in. His lips hovered near hers.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispered.
She should have. Every part of her brain screamed it. But no words came.
He leaned closer—just inches away—
And then—
A scream ripped through the palace.
Aurelia jumped. Draven jerked back, the soft warmth in his face gone. The ruthless King reappeared.
Another scream echoed in the hall.
He reached for his sword. “Stay here.”
She grabbed his arm. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.”
A guard burst in, breathless and pale. “Your Majesty!”
Draven turned, tense. “What is it?”
“A woman’s been found outside,” the guard managed, glancing from Aurelia to the King.
Draven’s eyes darkened. “Who?”
The guard swallowed hard. “She carried this.” He held up something bloody—a scrap of fabric.
Aurelia’s heart stopped. She recognized the intricate embroidery. It was the same symbol that haunted her dreams.
Draven went so still she thought he might never move again.
They both knew—someone from their past had come back.
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