Chapter 8: Curses and Conditions

Dahlia’s P.O.V

I stare at Killian for a good few seconds, taking in his presence, the way his sharp gaze watches me as if waiting for me to say something he can use, something he can twist or analyze. He’s unreadable, his expression carefully composed, but there’s something in his eyes, a glimmer of curiosity, maybe even amusement. I exhale slowly, steeling myself before I speak. "I’m not someone well-versed in politics or mind games, Alpha Killian," I say, my voice steady but firm. "So I’d appreciate it if you spoke to me directly." 

His brow raises slightly, just a flicker of surprise, and for a moment, I wonder if he expected me to cower, to dance around my words like the others do in his presence. But I refuse to do that. I won’t pretend to be something I’m not. 

His silence stretches between us, heavy, but I don’t let it deter me. I lift my chin slightly, meeting his gaze head-on. "Yes, I heard about your curse," I continued, watching for his reaction. His expression remains unreadable, but I don’t miss the way his fingers flex subtly at his side. A tell. "But to me, it’s nothing new." 

His eyes narrow just a fraction, interest flickering beneath the surface. "Nothing new?" he echoes, his voice calm, controlled. "What do you mean by that?" 

I swallow, pushing past the lump forming in my throat. "Before my parents died," I say carefully, choosing my words, "they spoke about your curse as well." The air between us seems to shift, growing taut. "And even tonight, at the party, I heard people whispering about it. They spoke in hushed voices, but no one dared to say it out loud." 

Killian doesn't move, but the intensity in his gaze sharpens, like a blade being drawn. "Is that so?" His voice is smooth, unreadable, but there's something else there now—something darker. 

I nod. "Yes. People fear what they don’t understand, and they fear you, Killian. But I need to understand the truth before I judge someone for it." 

For a long moment, he just looks at me, his gaze probing, searching.

I clenched my fists, my nails biting into my palms as I met Killian’s piercing gaze. The rumors surrounding him had always been absurd—tales spun from fear, from ignorance, from the need to make sense of the inexplicable. A curse, they said, but no one truly knew what kind.

They whispered of dark magic, of blood-soaked pacts, of something so terrible that even the bravest men refused to speak of it aloud. I never put stock in such stories. How could I, when no one had ever offered proof, only speculation wrapped in hysteria? And yet, standing before him now, I realized that my beliefs—or lack thereof—were of no consequence. What mattered was survival. 

His expression remained unreadable, a mask of indifference that only made my pulse hammer faster. I had no illusions about my situation. I was at his mercy, caught in a web I hadn’t woven, bound by circumstances beyond my control. But I wasn’t naïve enough to expect kindness. Nothing in this world was free. 

“I don’t believe in curses,” I admitted, my voice steady despite the turmoil within me. “Not because I think they’re impossible, but because I don’t know the truth. And until I do, I won’t give weight to the words of cowards who speak in the shadows.” I inhaled sharply, lowering my gaze just enough to show him respect without surrender. “But whatever affliction haunts you, I know one thing for certain—it has nothing to do with me.” 

For a moment, silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. His eyes never left mine, sharp and assessing, as if he were peeling back the layers of my resolve, searching for weakness. If he found any, he didn’t speak of it. 

Finally, I exhaled and bowed my head, the weight of my decision settling over me like a cloak. “I understand that freedom isn’t given. It’s bought, bargained for, earned through sacrifice.” My throat tightened, but I forced myself to continue. “So, name your price, Alpha Killian. Whatever it is—so long as it doesn’t demand more than I can bear—I will pay it.” 

The room felt colder then, as if my words had drawn an unseen force between us. His lips curled, a ghost of a smirk that held neither warmth nor amusement. And I knew, without him saying a word, that I had just stepped into something far more dangerous than I had ever imagined. 

“Very well, Lady Dahlia.” Alpha Killian finally spoke, his voice holding a sliver of amusement, but there was an undertone of something sharp underneath. “But you don’t need to be afraid, I’m not going to ask for something immoral. Since you mentioned yourself that everything has a price…then here is mine, in exchange for your freedom from Alpha Cade. I want you to be my personal healer. I want you to help me break this curse.”

I stared at Killian, my breath catching in my throat as his words settled over me like a heavy cloak. He knew. He knew what they whispered behind his back, the stories spun in hushed voices, the fear that clung to his name like a second skin. And yet, he didn’t care. He dismissed the gossip with the same ease he wielded his power, standing before me like a force of nature, unmoved by the weight of rumor or speculation. But as his gaze pinned me in place, I realized that he did care about one thing—breaking the curse that had been wrapped around him like chains. And for that, he needed me. 

I swallowed hard, my fingers curling at my sides. "You have thousands of healers at your beck and call, Alpha Killian," I said, my voice steady despite the unease stirring in my chest. "Ones far more experienced than I am. Why do you think I would succeed where they have failed?" 

For a moment, he didn’t answer. He simply watched me, his expression unreadable, his eyes dark and unreadable pools that held secrets I wasn’t sure I wanted to unravel. And then, with a slow, deliberate step forward, he closed the space between us. I should have stepped back. I should have put distance between us, reminded myself of what he was—a man feared by many, cursed and untouchable. But I couldn’t move. Not when the air between us crackled like a storm on the verge of breaking. 

"Because it has to be you," he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous thing that sent a shiver down my spine. "Because I know, Dahlia." 

"Know what?" My voice barely came out as a whisper. 

His lips parted, but it wasn’t just his words that made my breath hitch—it was his eyes. The way they burned with something raw, something unspoken, something that made my heart hammer against my ribs. "That you’re the key to breaking this curse. That no one else can do it but you." 

I wanted to tell him he was wrong, that he was grasping at straws, but the conviction in his voice unsettled me. He wasn’t guessing. He wasn’t hoping. He was sure. And that certainty, that unwavering belief, terrified me more than the curse itself. Because if he was right, if I was truly the only one who could free him, then there was no turning back. No escaping the path that now stretched before me. 

I took a slow breath, forcing myself to keep my voice calm even as my mind raced. "And if I refuse?" 

His jaw tightened, a muscle ticking as he regarded me. "Then you stay bound to Cade, trapped in a life where there is no respect, no honor." His voice softened, but it lost none of its weight. "But if you help me, I’ll free you from him. I’ll make sure he never has a hold on you again." 

My heart twisted painfully at the mention of Cade, at the reminder of the shackles I had worn for too long. The thought of being free, of having a life that was mine to shape, was almost too much to hope for. But the cost… 

I lifted my gaze to Killian’s once more, searching his face for any hint of deception, but all I found was determination. He wasn’t lying. He meant every word. 

And so, with my pulse thundering in my ears, I made my choice. "Then I’ll do it," I whispered. "I’ll help you." 

For the first time, his lips curved into something that almost resembled a smile. But it wasn’t relief that flickered in his gaze. No, it was something else. Something that felt dangerously close to fate.