Chapter 7: The Burning Curse

The grand doors of the mansion shut behind them with a soft thud, muffling the distant sounds of the city. Diego strode ahead, shrugging off his coat with a swift motion and handing it to Hugo without sparing a glance at Erika.

“Prepare my bath,” Diego instructed curtly, his voice low but firm. A faint sheen of sweat glistened on his brow, and he tugged at the collar of his shirt as though the air itself were too thick.

He turned halfway, his eyes briefly flicking in Erika’s direction—but not to meet her gaze. “Have a good night, Luna,” he said in a tone that carried no warmth. Before she could respond, he was already heading toward the hallway leading to his chambers, his long strides echoing against the polished floors.

Erika stood motionless for a moment, watching his retreating back. Her chest ached, but she forced herself to breathe evenly. It’s nothing new, she told herself. He’s always like this. Detached. Indifferent.

Hugo turned to her with a polite bow. “Shall I escort you to your chambers, Luna?”

“No, thank you, Hugo,” she replied with a faint smile. “I know my way.”

She walked briskly down the opposite corridor, the soft rustle of her gown the only sound accompanying her steps. As she reached her chambers, she was grateful for the solitude, but the burning heat coursing through her veins made it impossible to relax.

The Hunter’s Moon still clung to her like a relentless shadow, its effects refusing to wane entirely. Hours spent in Diego’s presence at the event had only amplified her torment. His scent, his voice, the magnetic pull of their bond—it all gnawed at her, leaving her feverish and restless.

“Damn Hunter’s Moon,” she muttered as she shut the door behind her. “How much longer do I have to endure this?”

She made her way to the bathroom, turning the tap for cold water. The sound of rushing water filled the room as she hastily undressed, letting the gown pool around her feet. Without waiting for the tub to fill, she stepped in, sinking into the icy embrace. The chill bit at her skin, but it was a welcome relief from the unbearable heat inside her.

Yet, no amount of cold water could numb the ache in her heart. The memory of that night in the woods—the night Diego didn’t come to consummate their mating—rose unbidden in her mind. The sting of rejection was as fresh now as it had been then.

Her fingers curled into fists as sobs wracked her body. She had tried to ignore the pain, to convince herself that it didn’t matter, but the truth was unavoidable. Diego didn’t want her. He had made that clear from the very beginning.

Her tears blurred her vision as she whispered into the silence, “Why? What did I do to deserve this?”

Suddenly, a faint sound broke through her despair—footsteps outside her chamber. She froze, her heart leaping to her throat. The guards wouldn’t patrol this far down the hall, and Dunia rarely wandered at night.

Could it be... Diego?

The thought sent a spark of hope coursing through her, and she quickly rose from the tub. Wrapping herself in a towel, she hurriedly dried off and slipped into her night robe. With trembling hands, she smoothed her damp hair and approached the door.

When she opened it, the hallway was empty. The faint echo of footsteps had disappeared into silence.

Her shoulders sagged, and she leaned against the doorframe, her heart sinking deeper into despair. Of course, it wasn’t him. She let out a bitter laugh. Why would it be?

Back in her chambers, the restless heat and gnawing ache refused to subside. After tossing and turning in bed, she finally gave up on sleep and reached for her cloak. She needed air, something to clear her head and cool her burning skin.

The mansion was eerily quiet as she walked through the halls. When she passed Diego’s chambers, she paused, straining to hear any sound—a voice, movement, anything. But the room was silent, offering no clues.

Stepping onto the patio, Erika drew in a deep breath, letting the cool night breeze wash over her. The moonlight filtered through the trees, casting silver patterns on the stone floor. For a brief moment, she felt a semblance of peace.

Then, she heard it. A soft click of a doorknob, followed by careful footfalls. She pressed herself against the wall, peeking cautiously toward the hallway.

A woman emerged from Diego’s chambers, her posture relaxed, a smug smile playing on her lips. She wore a robe that was unmistakably meant for sleep, her hair slightly tousled. Erika’s breath hitched as the woman paused, glanced back toward the door, and walked away with quiet confidence.

Who is she? Erika’s chest tightened, her breaths shallow. She had seen this woman before—briefly—among the crowd during the mating ceremony. But here, under the cover of night, she wasn’t just another face in the mansion.

The woman paused near the end of the hallway, looking over her shoulder toward Diego’s chamber door. For a moment, Erika’s heart hoped—prayed—that she had misinterpreted the situation. Perhaps the woman was there for some other reason. But the faint smile and the subtle shift of her stance told a different story.

The weight of realization settled on Erika like a stone. She didn’t need to guess what had transpired. The meaning was painfully clear.

Her knees threatened to buckle as she clutched the edges of her cloak, her chest constricting painfully. She turned away from the sight, stumbling back toward her chambers.

Once inside, she sank onto the floor, her back pressed against the door. Tears streamed down her face as the full weight of her despair consumed her.

Diego’s rejection during the mating ceremony had been a wound, raw and festering. But this? This felt like salt poured into that wound, a cruel reminder of how far she was from the bond she had once dreamed of.

He doesn’t want me. Her fingers trembled as she brushed her damp cheeks. Then why am I even here?

For the first time since the mating ceremony, Erika felt entirely hopeless. The bond that tied her to Diego was nothing but a cruel mockery, a constant reminder of a love that would never be returned.

She didn’t rise to greet the dawn. Instead, she lay curled in the shadows of her bed, her tears long dried but her heart still shattered.