Chapter 2

Iris’ POV 

The first thing I feel when I move is silk, so raw that I know I cannot be dreaming. My eyes fly open, and I sit up at once. Too fast.  

“Shit!” I murmur, holding on to my head. There is a ringing sound, loud and insistent. 

“Turn that off!” I groan, bringing my hands to my ears. “Please. Turn it off.”

Feeling like I am going to die from the noise, I look around the room, searching for the source. But I slowly realize that nothing makes sense. Not the sound, not the decadent sheets brushing against my skin right now. 

It reduces when I really start taking notice of my surroundings. The bed underneath me is huge, the gleaming wood peaking up at me from the corners. My eyes narrow as I swing my legs off the bed, noting the faint scent in the air.

Cedarwood. Leather. 

I move through the huge space, my bare feet padding against the cold marble floor until I stop in front of a full-length mirror. My eyes widen when I see the red mark on the side of my neck. 

“What the….” I raise my hands to it, wincing when the pain lances through me. Did Archer do this? Or was it his slimy little princess?

Of course, I can’t forget what happened last night. It is still vivid in my memories, playing all over from the beginning like someone put the album on repeat. But that is all I can remember. 

A sense of purpose washes through me as I move towards the door, opening it slightly to reveal a much bigger room. There is too much space with elegant furniture pushed far up the wall, so much so that I have to believe that whoever owns this building is strange. 

Stepping out of the bedroom, my eyes almost pop out of their sockets. I couldn’t see the whole thing standing behind that door, but from this point, it looks like I am suspended in the air.

I am in a high-rise building with windows so tall that I can see the rest of the world, from the rising sun in the sky to the earth, littered with a few men in some form of uniform. A man is standing by the window on one end, one arm resting on the glass and the other holding on to a mug, steam rising steadily away from it. 

The golden hues of the sun, bathing him in its glow, make it hard to breathe.

I take a slow step back. Even if he has his back turned to me, I know who that is.

Darian McAlister. 

He doesn't go to our school, but everyone knows him. And they seem to be scared of him. Maybe I should be, too.

“You’re awake,” he murmurs without turning around. “Good.”

“Where is Archer?” I whisper, my hands unconsciously going to my neck. “What did you do to me? Where am I?”

Darian doesn't answer immediately, his silver hair catching the last of the light before he turns around slowly. My breath hitches as he looks at me, his gaze dropping to the side of my neck, and then to my eyes. 

Something dark passes through his eyes. He blows out a steam of breath and looks away. And then, he chooses to answer only one of my questions. 

“You are in Lycans’ Haven.”

A chuckle escapes my lips before I can stop it, and Darian narrows his eyes at me. 

“Sorry,” I whisper, pressing my hands against my mouth for a second. “I just really didn’t think anyone names their houses.”

He angles his head as he regards me, a little wrinkle on his forehead that fills me with the strange urge to ease it away. 

“Wait. You’re serious.”

“I don’t say jokes.”

“Lycans’ Haven,” I begin to say, my fear of Darian still lurking around. “I think I have heard that name before.”

And then, it clicks. “I read that book with Daisy. The one I found in the library.”

He keeps watching me with that look in his eyes. 

“But Lycans’ Haven isn’t a real place.” I wrap my hands around my frame to keep my body from trembling. 

“It is. You’re standing in it.”

I laugh again, awkwardly this time. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He takes a long stride towards me. “Lycans don’t have time to joke around.”

“Fine!” I raise my hands in the air exasperatedly, too aware of the man standing in front of me. The way he stares at me makes me want to run far away from him, yet strangely, at the same time, take a step closer just to confirm the color of his eyes.

“Let’s say I believe you, that the Lycans’ Haven really did exist, what about this mark on my neck? Did you hit me or something? Was it Ar...”

“The next time I hear his name out of your lips will be the last time he has breath in his lungs,” he growls, leaning in so closely that his warm breath fans my face. “And I mean it.”

I move a step back. Something whines inside of me, mentally forcing me back to the same spot. I should fear him, but all I want to do is get closer, to breathe him in. 

“If he didn’t do it….”

"I did." A muscle in his jaw works. "I didn't mean to, but you were hurting yourself. I thought I was stopping it, but then…"

He stops talking. 

“Stopping what?”

“You really don’t know what you are, do you, Iris?”

The mark throbs again, and a tingle starts in my pulse. I laugh to shake the feeling off, to ease the tension that has settled over us. 

“Do you always do that?”

“What?”

“Laugh when things are pretty serious.”

I snap. “I am laughing because you expect me to believe you are a Lycan and that this is all some spooky situation. Well, if you are that, then I might as well be a werewolf.”

“You are.”

“Right. This has got to be a huge joke. I need to see Ar…” I stop before the name falls off my lips completely. 

If Darian noticed, he doesn’t give a sign as he glares at me. 

“Then explain the shift that started last night. Tell me how I knew exactly where you were, miles away from me, without ever marking you before. And explain why your body calls out to mine even in your sleep.”