My heart thudded louder, almost painfully against my ribcage.
Something about him pulled at me.
I opened my mouth, desperate to form words, to demand answers, but my lungs refused to obey. All that came out was a weak gasp.
“How are you feeling?”
Gosh, there goes that voice again, it was simply mesmerizing. I could drown in it, willingly, if it meant I didn’t have to remember where I came from.
I tried again, forcing my dry throat to work, but like before, no words came.
Was he the grim reaper? Had death finally taken pity on me? Was this beautiful man here to lead me into the afterlife?
He reached out a hand toward me, and I flinched violently. I threw my arms up to shield my face, squeezing my eyes shut so tightly it hurt, bracing myself for the blow I knew would come. My body trembled uncontrollably, expecting pain.
I couldn’t breathe. Terror clawed at my throat, closing it up, until the only thing I could hear was the ragged wheezing of my own lungs.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
The words hit me harder than a slap.
I froze.
Slowly, I cracked my eyes open, peeking out from between my arms.
He was still standing there, his hand was lowered now, and a small, almost sad smile played on his lips as he met my wide, terrified gaze.
“I would never hurt you, Im Sireli,” he whispered. His words sounded foreign, but the tenderness in them pierced straight through the fog of fear.
I lowered my arms hesitantly, though every fiber of my being still screamed at me to keep my guard up.
“Can you talk?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.
I stared at him blankly, my mind whirled, trying, and failing to process how the hell I ended up here, in this absurdly soft bed, with the most mesmerizing creature I’d ever seen asking me questions like we were old friends.
“Forgive my manners,” he mumbled, running a hand through his curls almost sheepishly.
“I should have introduced myself properly.”
He straightened, his presence somehow grew even more imposing.
“My name is Sargis.” The name rolled off his tongue like thunder wrapped in silk.
I blinked rapidly.
No. No, no, no.
Surely I misheard him. The Sargis? The ruthless, untouchable Lycan King?
“I’m sure you’re wondering where you are and why you’re here,” he continued, his tone was almost apologetic. “You’re currently in The Palace of Khragnir. I found you last night, on Snow-wolf territory.”
“I hope you don’t mind,” he added, almost sheepishly, “I had my staff clean you up and give you fresh clothes.”
Mind?
He made it sound like I’d been plucked out of a tea party, not a godforsaken dungeon of nightmares.
I sat there, blinking up at him, utterly bewildered.
NARINE’S POV
“You must still be in shock,” Sargis murmured gently, as if he could read the storm raging inside me.
He shifted slightly to his left, reaching toward the nightstand.
My instincts kicked in violently, and I scrambled back, my frail body dragged against the silky sheets until my back hit the headboard with a dull thud.
Sargis immediately froze, he raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.
“I just wanted to hand you the plate of fruit,” he murmured, nodding toward the nightstand.
Following his gaze, I spotted the bowl he spoke of brimming with bright, colorful fruits.
But they looked alien.
Everything about this felt wrong.
“Can I?” he asked.
I said nothing. Just stared at him like he was some figment of my broken imagination.
Because he had to be, didn’t he? This whole place, this bed, this room, him none of it could be real.
It had to be another hallucination. Another trick of my mind, conjured up to protect me from reality’s cruelty.
I tore my gaze away from him.
No. No more illusions.
It was time to wake up.
I curled my bony fingers, and tried to pinch myself. But there was barely enough flesh left to grip.
Desperation clawed at me.
I needed something, anything to jolt me awake. My gaze swept the room wildly until a plan formed.
If I could just fall hard enough from the bed. I’d probably wake up back in the dungeon or better still never open my eyes again forever. The thought of that was comforting, I scooted slowly as much as my strength could allow me, inch by inch toward the edge of the bed.
“What are you doing?”
I turned to face him and immediately regretted it.
Because there he stood, his face so achingly beautiful, it almost broke me all over again.
This wasn’t real. He wasn’t real. None of it was.
I’ve been down this rabbit hole before. Trapped in the darkness, conjuring sweet fantasies to survive the endless cold and hunger in order to keep the madness at bay.
But this… This was new. I’ll admit though, it was my first time conjuring an Adonis.
I kept scooting.
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