The Werewolves of Nyxryn

Chapter4

The knock on the door was low, deliberate, the kind of sound that made the air itself tremble. My stomach sank instantly. When I opened the door, a man was standing there. Broad shoulders that seemed to scrape the doorframe. Muscles that bunched under the beige colored fighting leathers of his tunic, like they could snap bone with a single twist. And eyes—cold, sharp, predatory—that scanned me from head to toe as if measuring how long I might survive just standing there. And on the other side of the door, there I was. Skin over bones. Messy hair. dark bags under her eyes.

The snap of his jaw alone would have made me want to curl into a ball. I knew, deep in my gut, that if he wanted me dead, I would be dust before I even hit the floor. My little trap from before, the one that had worked on Lyra? Laughable. I wouldn’t even have slowed him for a second. I didn't know if this man would be able to turn into a werewolf, but I did know for a fact that he wasn't human. At least, not entirely. No human man would ever look like... this.

He didn’t speak at first. Just stood there, the weight of him pressing through the door like he belonged to the walls, the air, the whole damned room. My heart pounded in my chest so hard it felt like it might explode. Finally, his voice came. Deep. Smooth. Dangerous.

“Miss,” he said, and I flinched at the sound of his voice.

“You are to come with me.”

I swallowed, my throat dry. There was no hesitation, no pause, no

“Please” or

“Why?” or

“Maybe later.”

Just the command, absolute and unquestionable.

This was it...

I nodded because the second I opened my mouth, I knew I would not be able to speak or even bring out a word. There would be no argument, no clever trick. My trap wouldn’t matter. My life was theirs to do with whatever the hell they wanted.

“Y-Yes,” I whispered, the words almost lost beneath the tremor in my voice. The man didn’t respond, didn’t even move aside to let me leave first. He simply waited, patient, unblinking.

I stepped outside of the room, my shoes soft against the polished floor, and felt the chill of the hallway hit me immediately. Shadows stretched along the walls, long and deliberate, and I could hear the quiet murmur of voices far down the corridor—other people, other monsters, moving in ways that made my hair stand on end. And they were all probably waiting to see my downfall.

Even with the tray eaten, the warmth in my stomach, I could feel the tight coil of fear knotting inside me. Every step I took felt like walking across a floor made of glass over a bottomless pit. One wrong move and it would all end.

The guard walked ahead of me, silent as a shadow, his massive frame cutting off any escape. I didn’t try anything. I couldn’t. My trap would have been a joke against him anyway, and I didn’t have the strength or courage to make him laugh at my futility before killing me. Instead, I walked. Feet dragging slightly, shoulders stiff. My eyes darted around, drinking in every detail: the carvings in the wooden walls, the dim lanterns glowing in iron brackets, the sound of wind whispering through cracks in the stone. Everything was too quiet, too perfect, too alien. And one thing became very clear to me: this place wasn't just a house, and definitely not a prison. This place looked more like a palace the more I saw of its size and grandeur.

But still...

I didn’t speak.

I didn’t dare.

And somewhere in the back of my mind, a tiny, stubborn flame burned: I will survive this. For Malrik. For Elira. I will survive. Even if it killed me trying.

The guard didn’t glance back at me once. He didn’t need to either. I was already too aware of him to even think about resistance. Every instinct in my body screamed that obeying was my only chance to make it through this alive. So I followed, each step heavier than the last one, into whatever hell awaited me beyond the wide wooden doors we were walking toward.

The doors opened with a soft sweep of wood against stone, and I froze before I even stepped inside.

I had expected a hall full of snarling faces, dozens of werewolves circling, jaws bared, claws glinting like sharpened knives in torchlight. I had imagined a trial straight out of a nightmare: a court of monsters, the Alpha perched on some throne of bone and steel, the room trembling with fear and rage.

Instead…

I was led into some sort of formal dining room. Not some crude courthall for beasts, not a pit of shadows, and definitely not a prison. The walls gleamed faintly in gold and cream, the ceiling high, painted with motifs I couldn’t name. A long table stretched down the center of the room, polished to perfection, the chairs carved with intricate runes. Sunlight shone along the walls, soft light spilling across a floor so clean it reflected the faint glow like water. And there was only one man standing in the middle of the room.

Waiting for me.

He hadn’t moved when I had entered, hadn’t even turned to register my entrance. But the moment my eyes fell on him, I could feel the air tighten in my lungs. His presence was sharp, like the pull of a predator measuring its prey, and every instinct in me screamed both awe and terror. And then, he did turn and looked me in the eye.

Strikingly beautiful, impossibly so.

Blonde, tussled hair that fell in careless waves around a face that could have belonged in a painting of a Greek God. Pale blue eyes that shimmered in the sunlight, cold and piercing, but not cruel. Skin tanned, like he spent hours and hours each day under the sun, and yet his body radiated strength, coiled muscle beneath fine clothing, as if a single exhalation could snap my spine in half. He looked as if he were in his mid to late twenties. And he was taking my breath away with his supernatural beauty.

Human...

He looked human and yet... he was too handsome to really be one.

The guard who had brought me here gave a quiet nod and then melted back into the shadows, leaving me alone with him. My heart slammed so hard I could hear it in my ears. The handsome man finally spoke, his voice smooth, resonant, and commanding all at once.

“Nice to meet you.”

I swallowed, unable to form more than a croak.

I had imagined a lot of things he would say to me...

Nice to meet you, it was not one of them...

The gorgeous and yet terrifying man stepped forward, slow, deliberate, eyes never leaving mine. The space between us seemed charged, dangerous. And yet… There was an elegance to his movements, a calm authority that somehow made my fear sharpen rather than collapse.

“My name is Varion,” he said, and the weight of his name rolled over me, heavy and undeniable.

“I am the Alpha of the Herion pack.”

I blinked, trying to reconcile the image in front of me with the terror in my chest.

Beautiful.

Deadly.

Alpha.

He wasn’t a beast in the way I expected—he was something else entirely. Something I didn’t have a name for, something that made me want to bow and run at the same time.

“You...” he continued, his blue gaze piercing as though he could read every thought circling my mind,

“Are the girl brought here by Orik?”

I nodded, voice caught somewhere between fear and awe. My feet felt glued to the floor, the new shoes suddenly too heavy, my hands pressed tight against my thighs. The dress suddenly felt very uncomfortable on my skin because it certainly did not give me a chance to run and hide.

“Yes,” I managed, the single word sounding small and inadequate. Varion’s eyes didn’t waver. They didn’t soften. And yet there was a strange calm behind them, like he already knew everything, like there was nothing I could do to surprise him.

“I am aware of what happened,” he said. His tone was even, measured, but it carried the weight of inevitability.

“And soon, you will answer for it. But first…” He took a step closer, and the room seemed to shrink around him.

“Sit.”

I obeyed instantly. The chair beneath me felt solid, grounding, but I could feel his blue eyes like fire along my spine. I had thought I was prepared to face monsters. I had thought I understood fear. But looking at this man Varion calling himself an Alpha, standing there as if he had been waiting for me all along, I realized—this was nothing I had prepared for. This was something else entirely. And I had no idea if I was ready to survive it.