The Lycan King Faceless Mate

011

Margaux

My eyes opened and , the first thing I saw was a male figure laying next to me.

He was still asleep.

For a long moment, I simply stared at the sharp line of his jaw and the dark metal piercing his lip. My thoughts were a tangled mess, and my forehead felt hot. Slowly, I tried to lift myself up, shifting my weight to the edge of the mattress.

The springs beneath us gave a tiny, sharp creak.

Suddenly, he rolled over, his shoulder shifting toward me in his sleep.

My entire body locked up, freezing mid-motion. I immediately squeezed my eyes shut, forcing my lungs to hold entirely still.

Don't move Don't breathe too hard. Don't let him notice.

I drew my aura inward, desperately trying to clamp down on my scent and quiet the frantic beat of my pulse. If he woke up right now and paid even the slightest bit of attention, he would realize what I was. A werewolf.

And that was the absolute last thing I needed.

Several agonizing seconds ticked by in the quiet room. Finally, the heavy rustle of sheets broke the silence, followed by the slow thud of footsteps on the floor. A door clicked open and closed.

The bathroom.

The second the sharp hiss of the shower echoed through the walls, I opened my eyes. I sat up so fast that the room tilted violently, a wave of nausea washing over me as I clutched the edge of the mattress to steady myself.

My gaze dropped to the tangled white sheets around me.

That was when the reality of the situation finally sank in. Something had happened last night. Something definitely happened.

Fragments of memories flashed behind my eyelids; the unnatural, blinding heat in my blood, the total loss of control, and that overwhelming, magnetic pull that had dragged me straight toward him. I pressed the heel of my palm against my forehead, trying to dull the throbbing pain behind my eyes. I had never felt this way towards anyone

"How did this happen?, how did I end up f*****g a stranger after years of abstaining and keeping my virginity only to " I whispered, the sound barely escaping my throat.

I instinctively wanted to smack my own forehead in frustration, but stopped myself at the last possible second. The wolf in the bathroom would easily hear the slap.

I lowered my hand, my fingers curled tight. Quietly, I slid out of bed, my bare feet hitting the cold floorboards. My black dress was pooled in a dark heap on the floor nearby. I scooped it up, holding the fabric tightly against my chest, and tiptoed toward the wooden door of the suite.

Every tiny step felt deafeningly loud.

My hand closed around the cold metal of the door handle. Slowly, millimeter by millimeter, I pressed it down. I slipped outside into the empty, carpeted hallway and pulled the door shut behind me until it gave a soft, reassuring click.

The second that door was closed, I ran.

I didn't look back. Not once.

I sprinted down the twisting corridors as fast as my legs could carry me, my bare feet making no sound on the runner rugs until I finally reached my own bedroom. My fingers fumbled with the key, dropping it once against the floorboards before I managed to shove it into the lock and turn it.

The moment I crossed the threshold, I slammed the door shut and threw the deadbolt.

I leaned my back against the wood, my chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow gasps.

"How did I get there?" I squeezed my eyes shut, my forehead resting against the cold timber. "I was going to my room."

I remembered that much. I remembered leaving the reception hall, exhausted and ready to collapse. I remembered heading toward the stairs. After that, my memory went completely blank.

I tried to piece the timeline together. The drink. Liam had poured it for me at the bar. But why had it affected me like that? Why had my wolf reacted so violently to that stranger? And why now, of all times?

I had finally started settling down here. I had finally found a safe place to hide from the packs. Then, in the span of a few hours, everything fell apart.

Slowly, my knees buckled, and I slid down the door until I was sitting flat on the floor with my head resting on my knees. Inside my mind, my wolf began to whine, making a restless, agitated sound as she ran circles around my thoughts.

I frowned, pressing my hands over my ears. "What is wrong with you why are you suddenly chatty after years of suppression ?"

She had never acted this way before. Never.

I forced myself back up onto my feet, but the moment I stood, a sharp, pain pierced right through my chest, making me gasp. My hand flew to my collarbone, my fingers curling into the wooden frame of the bed

"What is wrong with me?"

A dull, heavy ache lingered that made it hard for me to draw a full breath. But then, a completely different sensation flared up, drawing my attention.

My neck. The mark.

The scar Margot had given me years ago. Normally, it was just a quiet reminder of the past, occasionally giving a dull ache when the weather turned cold. But right now? It felt like a branding iron was being pressed directly into my flesh. It was scorching.

I stumbled toward the small vanity mirror on the wall. The second I looked at my reflection, my stomach dropped.

The mark had turned a violent, angry red. It looked inflamed, almost glowing against my pale skin. Sweat was slicking my forehead, and my breathing turned uneven as I stared at the damage.

What was happening to me? What was I supposed to do now?

I needed to leave. Immediately. Before the entire estate woke up and realized what had happened in room 112. I couldn't stay here. The man from last night was definitely from a pack I could feel the heavy, oppressive aura of his power even from here. He wasn't just any wolf. He was an Alpha. Which meant trouble. Serious, life-threatening trouble.

My thoughts briefly drifted back to the nightstand, to the thick white envelope he had placed on the table. Money. I was almost certain it was a massive payout. For a split second, a desperate thought crossed my mind—to go back, take the envelope, and use the cash to disappear to some completely new city where no one could ever find me.

But what if I got caught? What if he woke up the second I stepped into the room? What if I had to look him in the eyes again?

No. It was just one night. One massive, drug-induced mistake. Nothing more.

I paced across the small room, my steps quick and frantic. From the bed, to the mirror, to the door, and back again. My thoughts raced in circles, a chaotic blur of fear and panic.

Finally, I stopped.

"I'm leaving."

The decision felt heavy, final. I walked toward the small desk where I kept my papers, pulling out a clean sheet of paper to write a hasty note to Mrs. Calloway.

But before the pen could touch the page, a sharp sound cut through the silence.

A knock.

It wasn't on my door. It was the room next to mine.

I froze instantly, every muscle in my body tensing as my breath hitched. Another loud knock followed. If the person in the hallway was a werewolf, they would easily be able to hear the sound of my breathing, or the frantic rustle of my clothes.

I held my breath completely, creeping toward the door on my tiptoes. Carefully, silently, I pressed my ear against the painted wood.

The knocking continued, heavy and persistent. A few seconds later, the creak of hinges echoed through the floorboards as my neighbor opened her door.

"What do you want?" a woman demanded, her voice sharp and irritated.

I recognized the tone immediately. Matilda. Mrs. Calloway's cousin.

"What are you doing knocking on my door at this hour?"

A deep, gravelly male voice answered, sending a wave of ice straight down my spine.

"We're looking for a girl who ran down this hallway."

My throat went completely dry.

Matilda's voice rose, sounding thoroughly annoyed. "And what exactly makes you think I'd know anything about a girl running down the hallway?"