CHAPTER 6: THE TRUTH IN HIS EYES

Lyra had been awake for a while.

She didn’t move. Didn’t open her eyes. She listened instead—to the unfamiliar silence, too deep, too controlled to be a human dwelling. To the faint crackle of fire somewhere beyond the walls. And to the presence that filled the room like gravity.

Him.

Ares sat close. She could feel it. The weight of his attention never left her body, not even when he was still. Especially then.

Her side ached dully now, no longer screaming pain, just a reminder that something inside her had been torn and stitched back together. She breathed through it, slow and careful.

And then she spoke.

“You’ve been watching me.”

Ares stilled.

Not a sound. Not a breath. But she felt the shift immediately, like a predator realizing its prey had always been awake.

“Yes,” he said after a moment. No denial. No apology.

Lyra opened her eyes.

The first thing she saw was him.

Not the legend. Not the Lycan King whispered about in taverns and prayers. But the man—sitting in the low light, forearms braced on his thighs, dark hair falling loosely around a face carved by war and restraint.

Her breath caught before she could stop it.

He was devastatingly real.

Broad shoulders wrapped in black, scars faintly visible at his throat where his collar dipped. His hands—strong, steady, capable of violence and healing in the same breath—were relaxed now, but she sensed the tension coiled beneath his skin.

And his eyes.

Gold. Not bright, not glowing. Just… watching her. Deep. Ancient. Hungry in a way that made her pulse trip.

“You’re not just an Alpha,” Lyra said quietly.

Ares’s jaw tightened. “No.”

“I’ve met Alphas,” she continued, her voice steady despite the heat crawling up her spine. “They don’t feel like this. They don’t make the air feel heavy. They don’t—” She swallowed. “They don’t make my body react.”

Silence pressed in.

Ares stood slowly, as if any sudden movement might shatter what little control he had left. He stopped beside the bed, close enough now that she could smell him—forest, smoke, moonlight, and something darker beneath it.

“I am the Alpha King,” he said at last. “Of this kingdom. And every pack bound to it.”

Lyra absorbed that. The truth settled like a stone in her chest.

“Ares Nightbane,” she whispered. The name tasted dangerous. “The Lycan King.”

His gaze sharpened. “You knew my name.”

“Everyone does,” she said softly. “Children are warned with it. Mothers pray it never finds them.”

“And you’re not afraid,” he observed.

She met his eyes. “I should be.”

His mouth curved, not a smile. Something darker. “Yes. You should.”

Her heart thudded hard—but not with fear. Not entirely.

“Then tell me,” Lyra said. “Why you crossed half the kingdom for me.”

Ares said nothing.

She pushed herself up a fraction, ignoring the faint protest of her side. His hand lifted instantly, hovering near her waist, not touching—but ready.

“Why you held me like I would break,” she continued. “Why I feel this—this pull every time you’re near. And why you look at me like I belong to you.”

That did it.

His control slipped. Just enough.

“You don’t understand what you’re asking,” Ares said, voice low, strained. “And I won’t lie to you.”

“Good,” she replied. “Because I’m tired of not knowing who—or what—I am.”

Something flickered across his face. Regret. Conflict. Desire.

“You are human,” he said carefully. “At least… that is what you believe.”

Her chest tightened. “That’s not an answer.”

“No,” he agreed. “But it’s the truth—for now.”

Lyra studied him, really studied him, for the first time. The way he stood like a shield even when no threat was present. The way his eyes tracked her every breath. The way his hand trembled when she shifted closer to the edge of the bed.

“You don’t want a mate,” she said suddenly.

Ares’s eyes snapped to hers. Sharp. Dangerous.

“Who told you that?”

“You did,” she said. “In the way you keep holding back. In the way you look like you’re fighting yourself.”

His breath left him slow and heavy.

“I refused the Moon,” he admitted. “Long ago.”

“Why?”

“Because mates are weaknesses,” he said coldly. “And kings who love lose everything.”

Lyra’s heart ached at the finality in his tone.

“And yet,” she said softly, “you’re here.”

His hand finally touched her waist.

Warm. Steady. Possessive.

“Yes,” he murmured. “And that should terrify me.”

Her skin tingled where he touched her, heat blooming, answering something deep and instinctive. She didn’t pull away.

“Then why aren’t you leaving?” she asked.

Ares leaned down, close enough now that their foreheads nearly touched. His voice dropped to a whisper meant only for her.

“Because my beast already chose,” he said. “And it doesn’t care what I want.”

Her breath hitched.

“Ares…”

His thumb brushed her side—gentle, reverent, aching.

“You will stay here until you are healed,” he continued, voice rough. “Until I decide what to do with you. And until then—”

“Until then?” she echoed.

His eyes burned gold.

“You are under my protection,” he finished. “And my control.”

Lyra should have resisted.

Instead, she whispered, “And if I don’t want that?”

Ares smiled then. Slow. Dark. Unapologetic.

“Then you shouldn’t feel this every time I touch you,” he said softly. “Because once you do… there is no going back.”

The air between them trembled.

And somewhere deep inside Lyra, something ancient stirred—stretching, waking, remembering.

The Moon was not finished with her yet.