The Rise of the Lost Lycan Queen

CHAPTER 5

Eliana POV

Eliana adjusted the glass vase of fresh yellow flowers on the wooden bedside table. Her hands were tired, and her fingers were raw from hours of scrubbing floors, but she took extra care to make sure the petals looked pretty.

She had just finished decorating the first guest room down the hall and had rushed into this corner suite to finish her final chore. She was already running behind schedule. The head maid had given her a mountain of work that morning—scrubbing the lower kitchen floors, washing heavy linen sheets, and carrying iron buckets of freezing water up three flights of stairs.

Eliana wiped a light bead of sweat from her forehead with the back of her sleeve. She took a quick step back to inspect the room. The bed was neatly made, the heavy curtains were drawn back to let in the afternoon light, and the fire in the fireplace was crackling softly.

"Done," she whispered to herself with a quiet sigh of relief.

She grabbed her empty cleaning basket, turned around, and made her way toward the exit.

Just as her hand reached out to open the door, the heavy oak handle twisted from the outside.

Eliana froze.

The door pushed inward, and a tall figure stepped into the room.

Eliana's heart slammed into her chest. She instantly backed away, pulling her hands tight against her chest as her eyes went wide with fear. Servants were explicitly forbidden from being in a guest's room when the visitor arrived. If Lyra found out, Eliana would be punished severely.

"I—I am so sorry!" Eliana gasped out, her voice barely above a whisper.

She kept her head down at first, but as the man stepped fully into the light of the room, her eyes slowly drifted up.

Eliana forgot how to breathe.

Standing in front of her was the most breathtakingly handsome man she had ever seen in her entire life. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and built like a powerful warrior. He had sharp, carved facial features, smooth skin, and thick dark hair that swept naturally across his forehead. But it was his eyes that completely trapped her—deep, striking amber eyes that seemed to look right through her.

He didn't wear fine silk or shiny golden crests like Silas or Beta Jonathan. He wore a simple dark jacket over a plain dark shirt. Yet, there was an effortless, crushing authority around him that made the air in the room feel completely still.

When his gaze landed on her, he took a sudden, fast step forward, reaching his hand out toward her. "You..."

Eliana flinched hard. She shrank back until her heels hit the edge of the bedside table, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. She trembled, terrified of what he might do.

The man stopped immediately. He pulled his hand back and took half a step back, giving her space.

"It is alright," he said, his voice dropping into a low, deep, and incredibly gentle rumble. "You don't need to be afraid."

Eliana swallowed hard, her knuckles white as she squeezed her cleaning basket. "I... I am so sorry, sir," she stammered out, keeping her eyes lowered toward his boots. "I was not supposed to be here when you arrived. I was assigned to arrange the flowers, but I got sidetracked with... with my other chores downstairs. I am so sorry for intruding."

"You are not intruding," he replied smoothly, his tone warm and calm. He gestured toward the yellow flowers on the nightstand. "The flowers look very beautiful. You did a wonderful job."

Eliana blinked, caught completely off guard. No one in the Moonstone Pack ever complimented her work. They only barked orders or complained that she wasn't fast enough. She looked up at him briefly, her dark eyes filled with shock, before looking away again.

"Thank you, sir," she whispered softly.

He offered a small, reassuring smile. "What is your name?"

Eliana hesitated for a brief second before answering softly. "Eliana."

"Eliana," he repeated. Hearing her name spoken in his deep voice sent a strange, quiet shiver down her spine. "I am Valerius."

"It is... nice to meet you, Mr. Valerius," Eliana said quickly, her anxiety returning as she glanced at the open door behind him. "I really must apologize again, but I have to leave now. The head maid will be looking for me, and I have more work to finish."

She clutched her basket tighter and made a quick move to step past him toward the doorway.

"Eliana, wait," Valerius said softly.

As she brushed past him, his long fingers lightly caught her wrist to stop her.

The moment his skin touched hers, a powerful, electric spark snapped between them.

A wave of intense heat flared right where his fingers met her skin, rushing up her arm and straight to her heart. Eliana gasped loudly, gasping for air as a sudden warmth flooded her chest.

Terrified by the strange, overwhelming sensation, Eliana yanked her wrist out of his grip.

"I'm sorry!" she cried out, her voice trembling.

Without waiting for another word, she turned on her heel and rushed out of the room, her quick footsteps echoing down the long, carpeted hallway.

Eliana practically flew down the servant stairs, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She didn't stop until she pushed open the heavy wooden door leading into the quiet, cool laundry room on the basement level.

She leaned her back against the door, sliding down until she was sitting on the cold floorboards. She pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging herself tightly while resting her chin on her knees.

She stared down at her wrist. The skin where Valerius had touched her was still warm, tingling with that strange, magical sensation.

"Stop it, Eliana," she scolded herself in a harsh whisper, shaking her head violently. "Don't be deceived. Don't be stupid."

She rubbed her wrist hard, trying to wipe away the phantom feeling of his fingers.

"That spark didn't mean anything," she muttered to herself, her voice cracking slightly with emotion. "Your mind is just playing tricks on you. You're just so tired... so desperate to belong to someone, to have anyone care about you, that you're imagining things."

She closed her eyes, forcing the image of his handsome face out of her head.

"He was just being polite," she reminded herself strictly. "He is a high-ranking guest from the North, and you are just a maid. He was nice to you because he's a decent person, probably the first person who has spoken nicely to you in years. That's all it was. Do not make it into something it's not."

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Eliana pushed herself up off the floor. She smoothed down her apron, picked up her laundry soap, and forced her hands back to work—trying her absolute best to forget the deep amber eyes of the stranger upstairs.