Forever Bound to the Night

Amidst Predators

I stood up from the bed, my heart racing as I turned to face the owner of the authoritative voice. My eyes met the Lycan king's, and for a fleeting moment, I was lost in their depths. His neck-length onyx hair framed his chiseled face, accentuating his sharp features. Deep blue eyes, almost piercing, seemed to bore into my soul. His breathtaking handsomeness left me breathless.

How can one person be this good-looking?

I had always assumed, based on the whispers and rumors surrounding him, that he would appear weathered and unattractive, worn down by the weight of his reputation. But nothing could have prepared me for the striking reality - his youthful vigor and chiseled features defied every expectation, leaving me breathless and my preconceptions shattered.

For years, I had thought Jarvis, my father's loyal bodyguard, was the epitome of handsome. His chiseled features, piercing gaze, and commanding presence had set a high standard in my mind. But now, standing before the Lycan King, I realized Jarvis was merely a sketch compared to a masterpiece.

But how could this vision of perfection be the same fearsome creature of legend? The one whispered about in terrified tones, labeled as dangerous, gruesome, and monstrous? It seemed impossible. Yet, I knew better than to trust appearances. Looks, after all, can be deceiving, hiding the darkest secrets beneath a captivating facade.

This is bad. This is really, really bad.

But what caught my attention was the brief flicker of yellow in his eyes, like a spark of electricity. He took a sharp breath, his chest rising and falling, before his gaze hardened, erasing any hint of softness.

Our eyes locked in a silent standoff, the air thick with tension. Then, without a word, he gave me one last, piercing look and turned to leave the room. The door closed behind him, and I was left standing, frozen, my heart still racing.

Mary's concerned voice broke the spell. "My lady, are you alright?"

I nodded, still trying to process the Lycan king's sudden appearance and departure. His presence had left me unsettled, yet intrigued.

"What just happened?" I asked Mary, trying to make sense of the encounter.

"I honestly do have the same reaction as you do, my lady? Is that really the Lycan king or a fallen angel?" Mary asked, fanning her face.

I took a deep breath, attempting to calm my nerves. The Lycan king's unexpected visit had left me with more questions than answers.

Mary's gentle touch on my arm brought me back to reality. "My lady, Isabel will be here soon to prepare you for dinner. Shall I help you get ready?"

Isabel arrived promptly as soon as Mary was done combing down my hair. She quickly walked towards me with a little smile on her face.

"May I touch your hair?" She inquired, her voice merely above a whisper, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

My eyebrows instinctively furrowed, a fleeting hesitation crossing my face. But then, I relaxed, a gentle smile spreading across my lips. I nodded my consent, my heart beating slightly faster in anticipation.

As her fingers intertwined with my locks, she couldn't help but admire the cascading waves of white hair that framed my face. The soft, ethereal strands seemed to shimmer in the dim light, accentuating the vibrant green of my eyes. Her gaze lingered on the striking contrast, mesmerized by my hair.

"Your hair is like moonlight," she whispered, her breath dancing across my skin. "It illuminates your face, making your eyes sparkle like emeralds."

Her fingers traced the curves of my face, following the delicate lines of my jaw and the subtle curve of my nose. "And your skin, so porcelain-smooth... You look like a sculpture come to life."

My cheeks flushed softly, warmth spreading through me at her gentle touch and sincere admiration. I felt a deep connection forming, as if our souls were weaving together.

"You're breathtaking," she breathed, her eyes locked on mine. "Inside and out."

Breaking my gaze with her, I felt blood rush to my cheeks. I've never had anyone compliment me before aside from Mary. I've never seen or thought myself as beautiful. I'd always loathed my white hair because most of the time I'd been called a witch for it, especially by my step mother.

"Thank you, Isabel. I'm flattered." My gaze flickered to Mary who had a neutral expression on her face. After a few adjustments on my white dress, Isabel guided I and Mary to the dining hall.

As I entered the majestic dining hall, its grandeur momentarily eclipsed by the weight of attention upon me. Five pairs of piercing eyes locked onto mine, their collective gaze striking like a physical force. My heart skipped a beat, plummeting to the depths of my stomach as a wave of self-consciousness washed over me.

As I scanned the room, my gaze met the diverse array of eyes, each telling a unique story. The pair of piercing blue eyes, unmistakably belonging to the Lycan King, seemed to bore holes into my very soul. His intensity made my skin prickle, as if he could see right through me.

Next to him, Jerome's warm grey orbs sparkled with a wide, genuine smile. His friendly demeanor eased my tension, offering a sense of comfort in this sea of unfamiliar faces.

Beside Jerome, another pair of grey eyes mirrored his, strikingly similar in shape and shade. This younger version of Jerome – likely his son, given the resemblance – stared at me with wide-eyed awe, his face aglow with curiosity.

Across the table, a pair of hazel eyes blazed with inner fire, their owner's passion and energy palpable. The fierce gaze belonged to a stunning woman with raven hair and porcelain skin. Her scorching glare made my heart stutter, her disdain evident.

Lastly, my gaze met the sapphire eyes of a tall, dark-haired man. His expression remained inscrutable, a mask of indifference shielding his true emotions. His detachment only added to my unease.

Good heavens, these people look so breathtaking. It's as if I'm looking at Greek gods and a Greek goddess.

As Jerome beckoned me to join them, I rose from my hesitant stance and moved toward the table. The room's attention remained fixed on me, their piercing gazes like weights upon my skin. I approached the empty seat beside the Lycan King, across from Jerome.

As I sat, the Lycan King's intensity enveloped me, his gaze lingering on me like a physical touch. My skin prickled, and my heart stuttered under his scrutiny. I felt so exposed.

The man beside Jerome, who bore a striking resemblance to him, gazed at me with wonder. "It's either my wine has begun to get to my eyes," he said, his voice filled with awe, "or I'm really seeing the moon goddess."

Jerome chastised him, his tone firm but gentle, "Shut it, Lucian."

The sapphire-eyed man's gaze gleamed with amusement, but he remained silent.

The Lycan King's gaze never wavered from mine, his expression unreadable. I sensed a mix of curiosity and caution in his eyes, as if unsure what to make of me.

I fought so hard not to look at him, not to look at any of them. I felt so intimidated and small around them. These are Lycans for crying out loud. They could leap out and chop my head off if I as much as breathed wrong.