Chapter 8: Monster

ALEX

Adrian Frost.

The Lycan King.

Before now, he’d only ever existed in whispers and orders…

…Commands that trickled down through the ranks of his War Lycans.

For all I knew, he was a shadow man.

And though his name struck fear into the hearts of everyone who heard it, I'd written him off as something next to a myth.

A tale at midnight.

A face one would only get to see once in a blue moon.

But now, I realize…

“I was in bed… with the Lycan King?!”

The thought claws its way back to the front of my mind for what feels like the hundredth time.

I stand frozen, hollowed out by the echo of my own disbelief.

Only when the dim light filters through the room’s wide windows do I realize where I am.

A manor.

Spacious. Silent. 

I glance around, trying to piece together fragments of memory that won’t fall into place.

Where am I?

How did I get here?

Where’s Adriana… or Micah?

And who—

My thoughts halt when I see him.

A shadowed silhouette, seated calmly across the room, bathed in the faint glow of dawn.

Even in the stillness, there’s an undeniable power about him. 

And as if, noticing my eyes, his scent creeps through, grounding his presence.

“You lied to me” the words escape my mouth. 

I can't see his face.

But I notice him tilt, leaning into his seat.

“You sure know how to break the ice, don't you?”

My fists clench. 

More in resolve than in anger.

“When I asked you who you were, why didn't you tell me?”

“Didn't see the need to” he simply answers.

I try to still for another question.

Another remark. Another statement that doesn't sound like I'm literally forcing myself to be stable.

But he suddenly stands, and my entire resolves shakes.

“You're safe here Alex. No need to be so over the—”

“With all due respect, I didn't ask for your help.” 

Why.

Why did I just say that?

At first, he doesn't say anything. 

Maybe he didn't hear me. 

Gods, I hope he didn't hear me. 

“Hmm” 

He steps out. Into the light. Into the only ray that breaks visibility into the hall, and my heart skips at the sight of him.

His golden brown eyes pierce through my resolve. 

“...would you rather be with Micah? Sure looked like he was gonna give you a kiss on the cheek for your comments, right?”

“I asked you not to follow me.”

“I told you I'd do no such thing” he cuts in, walking up to me with that unshaken glint to his eyes. “If anything, what I should be getting… is a thank you. Don't you think?” 

He leans closer, and his scent… that maddening mix of power and warmth… wraps around me like a challenge.

Why?

Why does my body respond before my mind can fight it?

No.

I won’t let it.

“We both know you didn’t have to save me,” I manage, steadying my voice. “You didn’t have to bring me to your cabin, either. And following me back to my packhouse — that was your decision.”

I take a step forward, surprising myself with my sudden boldness.

“I'm not some naïve commoner that's gonna fall your tricks and schemes. I know what kind of man you are.”

The silence that follows hums like electricity.

Something unspoken simmers between us. Something I don't want to name. 

“Really?” His response, a low growl. “Please, what kind of man am I? Do jog my memory.”

My gut twists. My pulse races. And yet, my mind is a cage of reason shouting against desire.

Because I know the stories.

Not every tale was about him being like a god among us.

Most, were of his conquests…

…when he was away from the darkness of war

A man who could have any woman he wanted. A Casanova of the highest of the order.

And now… he has his eyes on me.

A part of me stiffens in defense, even as another part burns at the thought.

“You think I don’t know your kind?” I shoot back. “I’m not some girl that'll wet her pants at the sight of you.”

His lips curve.

Not in offense, but in something dangerously close to amusement.

“You’ve been listening to gossip, warrior.”

“Call it whatever you want. To the clan, you might be a saviour. To me—”

“What?” he asks quietly, stepping closer. “A monster?”

I meet his gaze, forcing steel into my tone. 

“A man. A man who probably thought saving me would make for a good story. ‘The latest whim of the Lycan King. The scarred warrior’. That’s all, isn’t it?”

His smile fades.

Slow. Deliberate.

The silence between us crackles.

Sharp and unbearable.

His scent thickens the air; my heartbeat betrays me.

Then, he steps forward.

But there's no space between us, so our bodies smash against each others.

“What are you—”

I try to move back.

I can't.

Something's holding me in place. 

Raising my head to glance at him, I notice the look in his eyes. 

That red glint burning deep inside.

The same way it was when Micah and Adriana collapsed to their knees. 

“You think I saved you to sleep with you?” He growls. 

I try to respond. 

But the words can't crawl out of my throat.

“I felt bored so I decided to have another fling?” He tilts, eyes drenched in grimmer darkness.

“Well If i’m such a demon… And you're this beacon of light too firm to fall for my tricks, why'd you kiss me last night?”

My eyes widen. 

Ripples of electricity pulse through my skin. 

A truth. 

A truth I didn't want to admit.

“Or have you forgotten you woke up in bed? With me.”

“That's… a lie” I protest. “We didn't do anyth—”

“You’re shaking” he murmurs. “Doesn't that happen anytime you lie?”

What the —

How did he know that?

He glares at me.

Eyes sizing me up top to bottom.

“I'll show you what a real monster looks like.”

Then, he walks right passed me, heading for the space behind me.

The hesitation in my throat finally cuts loose and my head snaps back to outline his path.

I still don't know where I am!

“Where are you going? This isn't over!”

“Good” he responds, not even caring to glance back.

“Keep that fire Alex. You'll need it if you want to survive me.”

His words land like a promise and a threat all at once. 

And for the first time, I can’t tell which one I want it to be.