Thirteen

Caralyn looks up at him with wide eyes.

Her senses aren’t only invaded by his manly, dominant scent, but also by his hypnotizing eyes and extraordinary aura. She is seated on her bed, her hands palming the sheets on either side of her.

His one leg was between her slightly spread ones, the other leg on the outside of one of her legs. Each of their legs occasionally brushes, depending on the movement of either of them.

She almost regrets changing out of her princess gown already. The silky, light nightwear she has on isn’t helping her at all.

Or maybe the silky nightwear isn’t at fault, and she is just the one feeling abnormally drawn to him at that moment.

Their position again made her recall some scenes; naughty scenes. It’s been exactly three months since she gave her first time to the Supreme Ultima. That doesn’t mean she doesn't remember every single scene from that night.

But the scenes are abruptly wiped when she feels the hot, burning feeling that starts to form in her chest. She reacted by shutting her eyes tightly, her palms now bunching the sheets.

It’s starting!

The rage fit!

That burning feeling, however, never progressed.

She feels the warm surface she has missed, being placed against her cheek. She missed it because feeling it means ‘no rage fit’. She gasps audibly, feeling the rage escape from her body in a rush.

When it stops, the warm surface disappears, and she slowly opens her eyes. The moment her eyes met his, the sensations in her core that she had been trying to control resurfaced.

She swiftly raises her upper body the bed and connects their lips.

He responds more quickly than she expects. Taking over as his lips move over hers hungrily, dominantly, and without control.

He was really… without control.

He suddenly pushes her back, and she falls onto the bed with a soundless gasp. He is on her within seconds. His lips move to the joint between her neck, and he bites so hard she tries to recoil.

But she couldn’t go far.

His right palm wraps around her neck to hold her in place. She didn’t have a problem with it at first, until it grew tighter. She watches as his fangs grow out, even without shifting. With his fingers around her neck, he forced her face to the side.

He is about to dip down towards her shoulder when she pushes violently with both palms of hers against his chest to stop his action.

He did stop, looking like a person who had just awoken from an unbelievable dream.

He gets off her in a flash. And with just a few large strides, he was at her door. He unlocks it and leaves without a word.

Caralyn was left to ponder what had just happened. Her fingers trace her neck; she could feel subtle pain, though nothing too extreme.

‘What is wrong with him?’

Her eyes searched her bed, and she realized that the container of sleeping pills had disappeared.

*

Caralyn took several steps away from the man in fear. “Stay back!”

She cringes as her eyes trailed down the hole in the middle of his neck, which was oozing blood. Her knee creases touch the edge of the bed, and she falls onto the soft surface, the softness doing nothing to help her situation.

“It’s all your fault!” the man screams.

Then, blood suddenly splattered all over her face from the wound on his neck.

She screams into consciousness, her eyes wide, with sweat trailing down the side of her face. She hurriedly stands up and switches the light on. Her eyes scan her room in fear, but there is no one there.

She sighs heavily, brushing her hair back messily as she walks back to her bed. She sits down, staring into nothingness.

Her nightmare was about the horrid scene she had witnessed more than a week ago, and she had already had that same dream for three nights in a row now. She checks the time, and it is still three in the morning.

She curls up at the head of her bed, her mind skimming through the various events that have happened ever since she met Riccardo.

 

*

Alessio enters Riccardo’s room.

He was by his desk, examining strange paranormal objects.

“Another nightmare?” he asks Alessio without looking up.

“Yes, My Lord. She must have been really shaken up,” Alessio replies.

“Good. It will make her stronger.”

Alessio frowns. “She doesn’t seem to be sleeping well these days. Perhaps, you can-” 

Riccardo cuts him off. “She will learn to get rid of it on her own.” Then, he finally looks at Alessio. “You seem to be at her beck and call these days, and you know almost everything that’s happening to her.”

Alessio’s lips almost curl into a smile; he knows what every single word in that sentence meant. Besides, Riccardo almost sounded jealous.

“I’m only acting as your eyes and ears, My Lord.”

Riccardo looks away from him and focuses on the objects once again. “Then be careful not to see what you are not supposed to see, and not hear things you aren’t supposed to hear.”

“Always, My Lord.”

*

The day has broken.

Caralyn is sitting on a bench a few meters away from the garden, her eyes following the flying butterflies that seem to have no worries in the world. For a moment, she imagines herself being one of them.

‘I will probably be crushed by a passerby in a span of minutes, Caralyn thought.

‘Might even be under the Supreme Ultima’s shoe. Pretty sure no insect can survive being crushed under his foot with that amount of muscle mass he possesses. So sturdy!’, her Lycan swoons.

Caralyn rolls her eyes. ‘Or maybe I will be caught in the rain till my wings tear apart. Or I might be a lone insect who the other butterflies don’t want to play with,’ she pouts.

Then, a wide smile gradually graced her lips. ‘I will be a very beautiful butterfly, though.’

Caralyn imagines herself as a beautiful, alluring butterfly, with her best colors as her wings: white and purple.

‘It will be an ethereal sight,’ she daydreams.

“What a coincidence!”

Caralyn jumps at the sudden voice. She turns her head to the side to see Mateo, who has a wide smile gracing his face.

He tilts his head into a small bow. “Your Highness.”

“Hi again,” Caralyn says with a small smile and faces the front.

A few seconds later, she looks toward him again. He is just standing there with his hands behind him, staring off into the garden.

“Do you want to sit with me?” she asks.

“I won’t dare, Your Highness.”

Caralyn’s lips stretch into a bitter smile. “You make me miss Mrs Hale.”

“The Mrs Hale, she… sits with you?” Mateo asks hesitantly.

“Yes. I love when she treats me as just Caralyn Brooks.” She raises an eyebrow. “What’s your name, by the way?”

“Mateo.”

“And that little girl you were with the other day?” she asks curiously.

“That’s Chiara,” Mateo replies.

Caralyn nods, saving the names in her memory. A minute of silence passed.

“Mateo,” she calls with a stern tone.

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Sit down.”

He smirks. She isn’t asking; she just ordered him, which is exactly what he wants.

“Your wish is my command,” he says and sits beside her.

“This place is so boring without anyone to speak with,” Caralyn says.

“I have been likened to a walking humor, Your Highness. Hearing you say that just lowered my confidence,” he places his hand on his chest dramatically.

Caralyn laughs.

“Rumors are you will soon be leaving.”

Caralyn smiles. “Not rumors. This is not my place. Surely, I will have to go back to the palace.”

He was quiet for a few seconds before he spoke a sentence that dropped on Caralyn like a bomb.

“Seems like you really aren’t as concerned about breaking your curse as I think you are.”

Caralyn’s smile disappeared, and her eyes snapped toward Mateo in fury.