Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Lyra’s POV

I didn’t sleep. I couldn't, not even for a second. No matter how hard I tried, or just how many techniques I put into place, none of them seemed to be working. I'd twisted and turned, and even pressed my pillow over my head, just to see if I would get a tiny bit of comfort, but I didn't. All I got in return was the day's events pricking at me, like I hand in it. And maybe I did.

Perhaps if I hadn't decided on having such a wild night, I wouldn't have felt a thousand and one emotions all at once when Xander's stepbrother showed up today. Xavier. His name tasted raw and addictive at the same time. It sounded deep and mysterious, and even though I wanted nothing more than to dive into all that there was to him, I couldn't bring myself to do so.

Not now, and especially not when a threat and the fate of this pack was hanging on a loose thread.

I sat at the edge of my bed, still wearing the same dress from yesterday, now wrinkled and stained with dried tears and the faint scent of smoke. Call me crazy or whatever but I could swear that a whiff of his scent still clung loosely to my dress, and frankly, I wasn't sure I wanted it to leave.

The moon hung high above the palace, indifferent to the chaos beneath it. Being locked up in my room almost made me forget about what had happened, until I stepped into the kitchen for a glass of milk. Dry blood were splattered on the wall, and no matter how much bleach or disinfectants they'd used, it did t look like it was working.

The ambience wasn't the same anymore. The hallways were quiet, and the silence was unbearable. It pressed down on me and all the others, and I could tell they were dying inside. From curiosity, and the many what ifs that rang in their minds.

Was this going to be the new normal? A broken palace with slaughtered people laying about? Were the others going to have to live in fear of the rogues?

I would be lying if I said I didn't have my own questions, but if there was one person who seemed to have his sights on something else, then it definitely had to be Xander.

Xander’s words echoed louder than any scream, and my stomach churned n

“You’re just a walking curse.” his words replayed loudly in my head. “Bring her back, or drown with him.”

He'd said that as a threat, but deep down, I knew he meant every word of it. I should have shouted back, I should have told him everything I had endured for his sake,But I didn’t. I couldn’t, because deep down, I knew it wouldn’t matter.

He’d never chosen me. Not really. The invasion made me realize that I'd been living in a dream, and feeding myself lies just so I could be happy, and now that the veil had finally been lifted up from my head, I wasn't sure how to feel about it anymore.

And yet, I still tried to save him. I ran to his side to get him released from his.m chains, I allowed Ophelia dress his wounds, like a fool, like someone who didn’t know when to stop bleeding for the wrong person.

I had barely said the words to myself before someone popped up in my mind, and no, it wasn't Xander.

I closed my eyes, trying to forget the feel of Xavier’s hand on my face. The warmth of his breath against my skin. The husky weight of his voice when he called me darling. My wolf still purred at the memory.

Traitorous thing that she was.

I wanted to rip that memory out of my skull and set it on fire, but it just didn't budge.

“Get out of my head,” I whispered, but it was too late. He was already there.

A knock interrupted my thoughts. I didn’t answer, but it didn't matter because Ophelia let herself in anyway, moving with quiet grace as she carried a small silver tray into the room.

“There’s something for you,” she said, setting it down on the table. I didn’t respond, but she lingered anyway, studying me with that watchful gaze of hers.After a long pause, she added softly, “You’re shaking.”

“I’m fine.” it was a lie, a terrible one none the less, but I didn't care.

“You’re not.’ She raised a brow. “But I won’t push.”

When she left, I finally stood and crossed the room, drawn by something I couldn’t name. The silver tray looked harmless enough, but my chest tightened when I saw what rested atop the white velvet cloth.

A small black box, and beside it was a note.

My hands hesitated, but curiosity, dangerous, foolish curiosity, won in the end and I found myself unfolding the note.

“You left something behind. Or maybe I took it. Who knows?

Either way, I’m feeling generous tonight.

Return it. Or don’t.

I know how to come get it.

X.”

I stared at the words for a long time. They weren’t romantic. They weren’t even overtly threatening. But they sent a thrill down my spine so sharp, I had to grip the edge of the table to steady myself. I knew he was dangerous, but a man who was more dangerous with words, had to be deadly.

With trembling fingers, I opened the box. There, neatly folded like the world’s sickest trophy, were the black lace panties I had worn the night I met him.

No.

The same ones I hadn’t even realized were missing until now.

My stomach twisted into something unholy. It ranged from rage, to shame, before stopping in between curiosity. This wasn't a mistake or anything. It was intentional, and I would only be blind by ignorance if I decided to think otherwise.

He kept them.

He wanted me to know.

He was still thinking about that night.

“Son of a bitch,” I whispered, and yet my thighs clenched. The sight of my panties was more than enough to remind me of the feel of his lips against mine. I was drunk that night, but maybe, the tequila in my veins amplified the whole thing, that's why I couldn't get it out of my head, no matter how hard I tried to, and I hated that reaction more than anything.

I wanted to throw the box across the room. I wanted to scream. Instead, I stood there, breathing hard and flushed with something I couldn’t name. Before I could react, the door opened in front of me again

“I saw the tray,” Ophelia said gently. “I figured it was from him.”

I didn't press, but trust Ophelia to give another suggestion if she thought I didn't like the first one.

“I can burn it too,” she offered. “If you want.”

I opened my mouth to say yes, but no words came out.

“No. I don't want that.” I closed the box and held it to my chest like a secret.

“I’ve seen that look before,” she murmured, inching closer.

“What look?” I raised an eyebrow. “I don't know what you're talking….”

“The one where you’re trying to decide if you hate someone… or if they’ve already gotten under your skin.”

. “He’s a monster.”I scoffed, but it didn't hold any weight.

“And yet you’re still holding the thing he touched like it’s made of gold.”

My breath caught in my throat at her words. Not because she'd crossed the line, but because she was right, and that was the most terrifying part of it all.

Shit, I was really cooked.