The Cursed King

Six

Howl.

I woke up with a violent start, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. The sound pierced through the heavy silence of the stone chamber once again. It was a visceral, chest-tightening sound, so utterly heart-wrenching and thick with sorrow that it made my own lungs ache.

Throwing off the layers of cool fairy-silk, I scrambled out of the bed and rushed to the edge of the stone balcony, peering down into the grand courtyard below.

There he was.

He was standing dead center under the massive moon, surrounded by a sprawling sea of Mene flowers that had suddenly lost all their vibrant, pulsing luminescence. In the dim, shadowed air, his silhouette looked entirely, painfully isolated.

Without the light from the flowers, it was hard to see him clearly. The only remaining source of illumination was the moon itself, which looked so staggeringly close it felt like I could reach out my hand and brush against its craters. But strangely, its brilliant white glow had completely faded into a weak, suffocating glimmer.

Another raw howl tore from his throat, slicing through the eerie quiet. I couldn't just stand there and watch him break. Driven by a sudden surge of worry, I darted down the sweeping staircases to check up on him. But as I drew closer, slowing my steps in the shadows of a grand archway, my breath hitched.

It wasn't a wolf standing there anymore. In his place stood a man.

I stopped dead in my tracks as he let out another pained cry. Suddenly, stepping forward felt like a massive intrusion. My detective instincts, combined with that weird empathetic pull, told me this was a sacred, brutal shedding of grief. This was something he absolutely had to go through to heal. I could feel the necessity of it deep in my own gut.

It was jarring, seeing him smoothly transition into a human form, but I didn't find myself complaining. Just like his beastly form hadn't truly bothered me, the raw humanity of the man before me didn't freak me out either. If anything, the closer I got to him, the more a heavy blanket of serenity settled over my anxiety. It was as if his very presence was the exact emotional anchor I had been missing my entire life.

So, I kept my distance. Slipping quietly onto a smooth stone ledge, I sat down and patiently waited for him to let every ounce of his ancient agony out.

He kept his gaze locked on the fading moon with every howl, as if he were having a direct, painful conversation with his mother. And beautifully, the moon would flicker in response to his cries, its dim light pulsing as if trying to whisper, 'I'm right here, my child.'

For hours, I sat in the dark. I listened to his cries, absorbed the heavy waves of his pain, and felt an odd, instinctual certainty that my mere presence nearby was somehow soothing the sharp edges of his episode. By the time his voice finally rasped to a halt, a breathtaking chain reaction rippled through the courtyard. The surrounding Mene flowers suddenly burst into a brilliant, dazzling bloom, and the moon flared back to life, flooding the world in a spectacular silver light, just like the moment I had fallen into the realm.

Mr. Wolf slowly turned around, his chest heaving as his eyes locked directly onto mine. While his face softly shifted to express a quiet gratitude for me staying through the storm, my jaw hit the absolute floor.

Holy. Mother. Of. Gods.

Gorgeous. Splendid. Elegant. Magnificent. Every single dictionary definition of beauty failed spectacularly to capture what I was looking at. He looked like an priceless masterpiece sculpted by the hands of divine artists.

First of all, he had long hair, and I mean long, sweeping past his shoulders in soft, silky waves of a stunning ash-blonde hue. It looked so impossibly soft I had to physically sit on my hands to keep from reaching out to touch it.

My eyes greedily tracked down to his face. He possessed a lethal, razor-sharp jawline, a high, perfectly straight nose, incredibly kissable lips, and high cheekbones. But his eyes were the real showstopper: a deep, mesmerizing hazel shot through with a brilliant greenish-blue tint. And to top it all off? The man was perfectly, flawlessly tanned.

He was the absolute epitome of physical perfection. If I were a renaissance sculptor, I would throw out every single sketch of the Greek gods and spend eternity trying to replicate this man.

And did I mention he looked incredibly young?

If he hadn't told me his actual age, I would never in a million years guess he was millennia old. He had the physical maturity of a man in his mid-thirties, but like the ultimate version of a mid-thirties guy where age had done nothing but absolute justice to his features. He was one fine specimen of a male, I tell you. Human standards didn't even belong in the same sentence as him. He was completely, utterly flawless.

Naturally, my gaze continued its downward trajectory. I tracked the column of his neck, moving down to a broad, chiseled chest, past a set of absolutely delicious-looking abs, down to...

Oh, boy.

My eyes widened to their absolute maximum limit, my brain completely short-circuiting as I stared at his lower half. There was a literal third leg hanging between his thighs. No one on God's green earth could ever convince me otherwise.

Look, I've seen my fair share of anatomy during my casual one-night stands back in the city, but absolutely nothing came close to the sheer scale of what I was currently staring at. There was no comparison. Those guys were carrying regular old pickles or cucumbers. This man was casually packing a premium baseball bat.

Look away, Aelia! Look away right now before you get arrested by the fantasy police!

With a monumental amount of willpower, I finally managed to rip my eyes back up to his face. Though, let's be real, my detective brain had already captured a high-definition mental photograph of his assets, and I knew I'd be replaying that image later.

Without a shred of self-consciousness, Mr. Wolf (or maybe I should start calling him Mr. Baseball) casually walked over and plopped down right on the grass beside me. How he was able to sit there so completely unbothered while being entirely butt-naked was beyond me. Especially when he was so painfully fine.

Sitting a mere inch away from a gorgeous, naked wolf-man is a hazardous task for a girl's sanity. My heart was beating a frantic rhythm against my ribs, and my mind was suddenly flooded with a tidal wave of highly unholy thoughts.

No impure thoughts, Aelia! I scolded myself, taking a deep breath. He's an innocent, ancient creature of nature. You cannot be having dirty thoughts about him! Anyone but him!

But beneath the sudden physical attraction, a deep wave of genuine gratitude washed through me. I was so incredibly thankful to him for not killing me. It sounds twisted to be grateful to someone just for letting you live, but unless you've stared down a seven-foot monster after plummeting off a deadly cliff, you couldn't possibly understand what I was feeling. It had been the most traumatic, terrifying day of my life. I had been entirely certain I was going to die, only to wake up in a surreal, beautiful dimension that was honestly scarier than death itself.

He hadn't just spared my life, his very presence had a grounding, almost narcotic effect on my anxiety. He made me forget the cold reality that I was abandoned and forgotten back on Earth. He was being so incredibly good to me, even though I had essentially trespassed directly into his sacred, isolated sanctuary.

It was genuinely terrifying how much power he held over my emotions, especially since I had spent years meticulously numbing my feelings toward human men.

"What exactly are you thinking about right now?" he asked suddenly, his deep baritone cutting through the quiet air.

I let out a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of my neck. "You're asking me that as if you can't just stream my thoughts directly into your head."

"I cannot hear them," he said, turning his striking hazel-blue eyes to face me. His expression was dead serious.

I blinked, totally thrown off. "But you literally told me you could hear every single thing I thought just a few hours ago," I reminded him, pointing a finger at him. "You told me my mind was too loud."

"Yes, I did," he agreed smoothly, shifting his weight on the grass. "But right now, in this moment, I hear absolutely nothing but silence from you."

"Really? What changed?"

He offered a casual, elegant shrug of his broad shoulders.

Is it because I was desperately wishing he wouldn't hear my dirty commentary about his anatomy? I wondered. That was the only logical explanation. Right before my thoughts had taken a turn into the gutter, I had been fervently praying to the universe that he wouldn't perceive my internal monologue.

"I think I might have a theory about why that's happening. Let's run a little forensic test, shall we?" I suggested, leaning in slightly. "I'll think about something specific, and you tell me if you can pick up the signal, okay?"

Mr. Wolf offered a slow nod, focusing his attention on me.

I think Mr. Wolf is incredibly cool, I thought clearly and loudly, projecting the compliment outward while hoping he'd catch it.

"You think that I am cool," he repeated instantly.

"Okay, okay. Let's try it one more time with a different frequency," I said, getting competitive.

This time, I intentionally locked my thoughts down, guarding them behind a mental wall while focusing on a much deeper, more raw emotion. I know I need to find a way back to my own world, I thought bitterly. But a stupid, irrational part of my heart is begging me to stay right here with Mr. Wolf. I don't want to leave him alone in this empty kingdom.

I looked up at his striking face, waiting for him to tell me the line had gone dead. But the moment my eyes met his, the triumphant smile instantly vanished from my face.

His jaw was tightly clenched, and a look of profound, dark conflict had taken over his features.

Oh no. Did he hear it?

"I cannot hear it," Mr. Wolf said, his voice dropping into a rough, strained whisper.

I frowned, studying the tension in his shoulders. "Then why on earth are you making a face like that?"

"I do not need to hear your thoughts to know what you are feeling, human," he commented softly, his gaze drifting away from me to look back out over the glowing valley. "Your expression speaks volumes."

He went entirely quiet for a moment, the air between us turning suffocatingly heavy. "Do not stay here, Aelia. This entire realm is thoroughly cursed. Just like the others who once walked these streets, you will eventually perish here." He turned his head back, his hazel eyes locking onto mine with an unyielding, freezing intensity. "Do not allow yourself to attach your heart to me. I am a creature of ruin. I can only destroy you."

The moment those words left his beautiful lips, a sharp spark of anger flared up in my chest. I absolutely loathed the finality in his tone. It was incredibly jarring, normally, a warning like that would play perfectly into my self-preservation instincts, but hearing him decide my fate for me made my temper skyrocket.

"Why exactly are you making decisions for me?" I hissed, violently pushing myself up from the grass and standing over him. "If I want to stay here, I will stay here. You don't get to wave your hand and dictate what I do with my own life. You don't own me, Mr. Wolf!"

Mr. Wolf smoothly rose to his feet, his towering, perfectly sculpted physique completely dominating my line of sight. Even without his fur and claws, his presence was staggering.

"I do not mean to cause offense, human," he said, his voice entirely calm, which only made me angrier. "But you physically cannot remain in this place. It is for your own survival."

"You know what? Don't even talk to me right now!" I screamed at him, completely losing my professional composure.

Turning sharply on my heel, I bolted out of the courtyard, my boots kicking up glowing petals as I ran as fast as I could back toward the master suite we had just cleaned. I burst into the chamber, threw myself onto the thick, luxurious layers of fairy-silk, and stared furiously at the carved ceiling.

As the adrenaline slowly drained from my system and my anger began to cool, a wave of intense embarrassment washed over me. I pulled a section of the silk over my face, letting out a muffled groan.

God, I sounded like a literal, petulant child out there.

He was entirely right, of course. I was a human being. I couldn't stay stranded in a ghost-filled, ancient dimension forever. Eventually, I would have to figure out a way to cross back over to reality. His warning had been completely logical.

So why the hell had I acted on pure, volatile impulse? Why do I keep completely losing my cool whenever it comes to him?

Back on Earth, I was a seasoned homicide detective. I was celebrated for my cold, calculating rationality and my ability to keep my emotions perfectly locked down under extreme pressure. I didn't do impulse. I didn't do emotional outbursts.

Yet the second this strange man entered the equation, I was throwing tantrums, offering random hugs, and making wild, irrational declarations.

What was it about him that was completely dismantling my defenses? Why did a fiercely independent woman like me suddenly have an overwhelming, terrifying urge to just lean into his chest and depend on him?

~•~