Chapter 6
909 Words
When I woke, the first thing I noticed was the softness of the bed.
The second was the unfamiliar ceiling above me.
I stared at it for several seconds, trying to remember where I was. Pale stone stretched overhead, decorated with delicate carvings that resembled branches and crescent moons. Heavy curtains framed enormous windows, and a fire burned quietly in a marble fireplace across the room.
This was not my bedroom.
It was not even a room I had ever seen before.
I pushed myself upright.
Pain immediately flared through my body.
“Ah.”
I gripped the blankets and waited for the dizziness to pass. My muscles ached as though I had run for miles.
The memories returned in fragments.
The clearing.
Dorian’s voice.
The rejection.
The forest.
The strange light beneath my skin.
And finally, the enormous black wolf with golden eyes.
Except it hadn’t remained a wolf.
I remembered seeing a man standing beneath the moon, his golden eyes fixed on me.
The man who had carried me away.
I looked around the room.
“Hello?”
My voice sounded painfully small.
Nobody answered.
I glanced down at myself and discovered that someone had changed my clothes. I was wearing a loose ivory nightdress, and my torn silver dress was nowhere to be seen.
A fresh wave of panic washed over me.
Who had brought me here? How long had I been unconscious? And why had that man known my name?
I forced myself to stand.
The moment my feet touched the floor, the door opened.
A woman in her early forties entered carrying a tray. She had dark hair tied neatly at the nape of her neck and wore a simple charcoal dress with a silver pin attached to the collar.
Her eyes widened when she saw me standing.
“You’re awake.”
She hurried over and placed the tray on a nearby table.
“Please, sit down. You shouldn’t be walking yet.”
“Where am I?”
She hesitated.
“Blackthorn territory.”
My stomach tightened.
The Lycan territory.
I looked toward the windows. Beyond them, a vast garden stretched toward the forest, with stone fountains, carefully trimmed hedges, and tall iron gates in the distance.
A magnificent mansion stood in the center of the grounds.
I had never seen anything like it.
“How did I get here?”
“You were found unconscious near the northern boundary.”
“By whom?”
The woman studied me for a moment.
“King Xavier Blackthorn.”
The name meant nothing to me at first.
Then I remembered the guards bowing to the man in the forest. The way they had addressed him. The authority in his voice.
I had been carried into the home of the Lycan King.
And I had no idea why he had saved me.
“Why would King Xavier bring a stranger into his home?”
“That,” she replied carefully, “is something you should ask him yourself.”
She helped me sit on the edge of the bed and placed the tray in front of me.
“My name is Elara. I oversee the household staff. If you need anything, you may ask me.”
I picked up the glass of water with trembling fingers.
“Did I do something wrong?”
Elara’s expression softened.
“Why would you think that?”
“Because I don’t understand why I’m here.”
For a moment, she said nothing.
Then she pulled a chair closer to the bed.
“King Xavier rarely brings strangers into the mansion. In fact, I cannot remember the last time he personally carried anyone through those doors.”
I looked down at my water.
“Maybe he felt sorry for me.”
Elara gave me a strange look.
“Perhaps.”
But the way she said it made me suspect that she didn’t believe it.
Before I could ask anything else, three sharp knocks sounded at the door.
Elara immediately stood.
“Come in.”
The door opened.
And the man from the forest stepped inside.
King Xavier Blackthorn.
His golden eyes found mine immediately.
“Leave us,” he told Elara.
She bowed her head.
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
As she passed him, she lowered her gaze, moving with the practiced respect of someone who understood exactly how much power the man possessed.
Xavier closed the door behind her.
For the first time, I was looking at him properly, without the darkness of the forest or the haze of exhaustion clouding my vision.
He was even more intimidating than I remembered.
And when he approached the fireplace and turned to face me, I realized that he had not brought me here out of simple kindness.
He had questions.
Questions that only I could answer.
“What is your full name?” he asked.
“Freya Hale.”
His expression changed almost imperceptibly.
“Hale,” he repeated.
“Yes.”
“From which pack?”
“The Bloodmoon Pack.”
His jaw tightened.
“Who is your Alpha?”
“Dorian Gray.”
At the sound of that name, the room grew colder.
Xavier’s fingers curled against the marble mantel.
“Gray,” he said quietly.
I swallowed.
“Is there a problem?”
He turned toward me, his golden eyes searching my face.
“That depends, Freya. Did Dorian Gray know what you were before he rejected you?”
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