Eva's POV:
"Ahhh," the soft sound left my throat in a whisper as I slowly gained consciousness. Around me, I could perceive the smell of rot and burnt wood.
My eyes felt heavy as I slowly forced them open. I found myself in an old, abandoned house with broken wooden beams hanging from the ceiling, with most of the entire floor covered in grass and dirt. It had weed vines growing all over the walls. The place looked like it could fall apart anytime soon.
To my guessing, the place looked like it got destroyed and burnt down years ago.
What the hell is…? How the fuck did I get here? I thought to myself while trying to sit up.
But I quickly paused due to the shocking pain that instantly shot through my skull like my head was being hammered. I pressed my hand against the spot where the pain was coming from, and my memories immediately came back to me. I could now recall everything that happened. The lycan, covered in mud. That monster—he must have knocked me out and brought me here.
But why…? Why am I still alive?
The thought sent shivers down my spine. The lycan could have killed me and had me for dinner due to lycans' irresistible urge and hunger for human flesh, so why am I still here the next day still breathing?
I lifted my head up, studying my surroundings, and in the process, my eyes fell upon a man standing close to a broken window with shards of glass surrounding his feet. His long, dark hair fell behind his shoulders, and he was wearing black leather clothing crafted from deer skin, similar to mine. My heart dropped.
It didn't take me long to realize those clothes belonged to my uncle, and the man wearing them was none other than the muddy man that killed him and brought me here.
He must have stripped my uncle's dead body naked for those clothes. "What a shameless monster."
Anger rose inside me like fire, but I held still, trying to stay calm in order to think. As far as I could recall, nothing seemed to hurt him, not even wolf toxin. So if I just launched at him with rage again like last time, it wouldn't end well. Witnessing his immense speed and strength, he could quickly overpower me given the bad state I was in.
I quietly watched him for a moment, studying him, and it seemed he didn't know I was awake yet. He appeared distracted; it was like he was staring at something he was holding in his arms. I couldn't tell what it was because he was facing the direction of the broken window while his back was locked on me.
This is my chance, I thought to myself.
With that, I slowly reached for the small backup silver dagger hidden in between my boots. He could recover from any injury, but what if I went for his head, unlike last time when he managed to dodge my sword from decapitating him?
With perfect precision, not wanting to take any chances, I deliberately threw the dagger, aiming straight for the back of his skull, hoping maybe it would take him down.
But surprisingly, he caught the dagger just a few inches away before it could pierce his skull, and he did it without even looking. His hand just shot up so fast behind him, and he caught the blade with just two fingers like it was nothing.
My heart almost stopped. I knew lycans were capable of dodging weapons or attacks due to their fast reflexes and heightened senses because I had seen them do so countless times, but this one… this one's own was on a whole other level. The way he caught the dagger perfectly, holding the blade in between his two fingers, was unbelievable—it was something that required high skill—skills that someone would say were impossible to learn even for a skilled hunter like me.
It was fast, smooth, and perfect. For a moment, I just sat there with my eyes wide open, staring at him. I was caught between shock and fear and at the same time fascinated.
He turned to me slowly, with his eyes now fixed on me. I couldn't see his face back then because of the mud he was covered in. But it seemed he found a way to wash off all the mud.
He had sharp cheekbones. A strong jawline with a little bit of pale skin that looked somehow perfect. He could be one hell of a beautiful man if he wasn't a monster.
"Who the fuck are you?" I asked. Surprisingly, my voice sounded and came out braver for someone who was terrified inside.
Without saying a word, he walked towards me with slow, careful steps. There was no expression on his face, just the cold stares that followed.
He finally got close to me, and suddenly, he knelt down right in front of me and held out the dagger I had thrown at him.
"What the hell!" the thought whispered in my mind as my eyes locked onto his. Breaking the eye contact, I looked at the dagger in his arm. It seemed like he was offering it back to me, and I still did not get why his skin was unable to burn from the wolf toxin the blade was coated with.
"What kind of monster are you?" I said as I slowly looked back, eyes-to-eyes with him again.
Hearing me say that, he immediately raised an eyebrow. Maybe he was annoyed, or maybe he was amused—I wasn't sure—but one thing I was sure of was that that was the first expression I saw on his face apart from those cold stares he was giving me.
"What's up with you and monsters?" he said. His voice came out deep, with a hint of small laughter attached to it.
"What do you want from me?"
"Nothing," he replied while still offering me the dagger, which was strange. Come to think of it, everything about this lycan had been strange.
Silver doesn't burn his skin, he is immune to the deadly wolf toxin, and he can heal instantly from any wound—and even worse, he is able to do all of this without even transforming into a beast yet.
How is this even possible? I am in a dream I haven't really woken up from yet. "Yes, that must be it—I must be dreaming. Because all this seems too crazy to believe."
"Anyways, I think you threw this dagger at me. Take it!" he said, his voice snapping me out of my traumatizing thoughts.
I narrowed my eyes at him and instantly snatched the dagger and at the same time pulled off a backflip while kicking him in the face on purpose as I moved.
The force from the kick sent him back a bit, leaving him surprised, holding his nose.
I immediately put on a fighting stance. I held the dagger up in one hand while making a fist with the other.
"Ouch," he said—not as if he felt any pain from the kick; he said it like he was trying to mess with me. "And what will you do next, huh? Are you going to try hurting me with the dagger?" he said while spreading his arms wide open like he was daring me, knowing none of my attacks would have any effect on him.
And that's when I saw it—something reflecting the sunlight coming from the broken windows that caught my attention.
Something hanging from his right hand. It was a necklace with a silver chain and a round pendant as the solemn symbol.
What!
I knew that pendant. I had the same one just like it. I wore mine under my shirt every day, never taking it off. It was a gift from my parents.
One week before the lycans attacked our village, my parents gave me and my twin sister these matching pendants as a gift for our eight-year birthday.
After that, my sister carved words into mine, and I also carved words into hers. Mine said "Elska-lisa" in the old Norse language, meaning—love Lisa.
And the one he held…
I could see the same markings, the same carving I made myself 16 years ago, and I could recognize it anywhere. That pendant he was holding belonged to my sister who disappeared the night the lycans attacked our village. The sister I believed was dead.
"Where did you get that?" I asked with tears already welling up in my eyelids, threatening to fall.
"How do you have it?"
He looked at my eyes, focusing straight on the pendant in his arm, and the expression on his face changed. The mocking grin on his face instantly went cold, and he wrapped his fingers around the pendant like it was the most important thing in his life.
"You mean this…"
"It was my wife's," he said softly. His voice shook with real emotion as he continued. "She gave it to me—to signify the endless love she had for me."
Your wife?