Episode 4

Aurora

The next day...

I wake with a dull ache in my head. I bring my hand to my temples and massage them as I slowly sit up in bed. The pain is muted, constant.

I look around. The room is enormous. The walls are white stone and gold, the windows far too wide, letting in soft light. There is magic here. I can feel it.

"Where am I?" I say, dazed.

Then an older woman enters the room. Her features seem made of pure warmth, gray hair pinned back, a kind smile, eyes that have seen a great deal.

"Ah, you're awake," she says, setting down a few towels and what looks like clean clothing on an armchair nearby.

I shift and notice my leg is bandaged, and I am wearing an enormous shirt. Definitely not mine. The fabric is so fine it slides against my skin like water.

If this shirt is not mine... then whose is it?

"Ma'am," I begin, but my voice is weaker than I expect. It feels as if all my strength has evaporated. "Were you the one who changed my clothes?"

She turns with a smile, the kind of maternal smile that makes me feel safe and completely vulnerable at the same time.

"No, young she-wolf. The Supreme did."

"The... who?" I ask, drawing my brows together as my heart begins to beat faster for reasons I do not understand.

Her smile deepens, as if she knows a secret I do not.

"Lord Kael. He was the one who took you in and brought you here. You are in his castle."

I blink quickly and lift a hand to my head, as if that could help me process the information. I have heard of him. Terrible things, actually. Stories whispered in the shadows of packs.

"Wait. Are you telling me I ended up in Kael Avalor's castle? Is that really what you're saying?"

Then I hear a voice at the door.

"In the flesh."

My body freezes for one full second when I turn my neck and see him standing there with a breakfast tray in his hands. My heart is hammering now, and I do not know if it is fear or something I cannot name.

He is tall. Very tall. He wears black clothes with what looks like worked leather, fitted to his body in a way that leaves no doubt about his strength. His hair falls in dark waves to the nape of his neck. His jaw is perfectly defined, as if carved from stone.

But it is his eyes that hold me. Burnt amber. Ancient. Wise in a way that hurts just to look at.

I swallow and realize I am staring too much. Being too obvious.

"Margaret," he says to the woman without taking his eyes off me. His voice is like warmed stone. "You may leave us, please."

She nods solemnly and says as she goes, "As you wish, sir."

And then she withdraws, leaving me with him. With him. The very man used as a horror story to frighten children.

I curl in a little on the bed, pulling the sheet closer to my body as if it were a shield. He approaches with slow, deliberate steps. There is no hurry in him. Only certainty.

He sets the tray on the bedside table and says, inclining his head toward me, "I see my shirt fits you comfortably."

I swallow even harder. I tug at the shirt, his shirt, the one that smells like him, as if I might hide inside it.

"It's yours?" My voice is barely a thread.

He smiles and sits on the edge of the bed. So close I can feel the heat radiating from him. So close all my breath catches.

"You don't need to be afraid," he says, watching me. His eyes seem to read everything inside me. "I'm only a monster to those who deserve one."

I give a nervous smile.

"That didn't help at all," I whisper.

His smile grows. The kind that makes my stomach twist.

"You know... I like you," he says, studying me carefully. Every line of me seems to be examined by him, cataloged, kept.

Coming from him, I do not know if that is good or bad. I know I ran into the forbidden forest in desperation, but I never thought I would fall straight into the arms of the Supreme of that forest. Into the hands of a living legend.

The things I have heard about him make me shiver. And my wolf has not even awakened, so I could defend myself.

"You must be hungry," he says, cutting through my thoughts as his gaze lowers to my leg. His pupils tighten slightly.

He touches my bandaged leg gently. His fingers are long and scarred, but his touch is delicate, as if he is touching something precious. Something that might break.

I go cold. Almost mortified inside.

"Does it hurt?" he asks slowly, his eyes fixed on mine. Waiting. Watching.

I only shake my head, because my voice has vanished.

"I hope I didn't wrap the bandage too tightly," he murmurs, his fingers still brushing lightly around the wound.

My eyes widen.

"YOU?!"

"Yes," he cuts in, his voice rough. "I bandaged you. And..."

He looks me over, as if he sees beyond my skin.

"...I changed your clothes."

My face burns. I bite the inside of my cheeks in a desperate attempt to hold on to anything that is not him sitting this close with his fingers still on my skin.

Because my head is a mess. Why did he do all this for me? Why didn't he leave me there? Why bring me to his castle, to his room, and worse, dress me in his shirt?

Is he another man who wants to use me the way that bastard Dominic did?

I need to be careful. I need to protect myself. I cannot let anyone use me again. Especially him. If he is capable of the cruel acts I have heard about, he could destroy me easily.

"Thank you for your hospitality," I say, a little frightened, pulling my leg away from him. "But I need to go."

"Go where?" he asks softly, his tone unchanged, as if I have not just refused him. As if he knows I have nowhere to go. "As far as I know, your mate rejected you publicly. Isn't that right?"

How did he learn that so quickly?

But with him, I suppose it makes sense. Information must flow freely to someone like him, like water.

"Yes," I admit, my voice cracking. "That's right."

"Then..." He rises slowly and walks toward the door. "You stay."

And it does not sound like a question.

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