Sera:
I rushed to my room, slamming the door violently behind me.
I hurried to the sink to splash cold water on my face, hoping it would extinguish the flames burning deep within me.
I lifted my head to see my reflection in the mirror, scowling with irritation when I realized I was still wearing his clothes—like shackles reminding me of his bitterness toward me.
With furrowed brows, I headed to the dressing room. I put on trousers and a high-necked shirt to hide that stupid mark.
I stepped into black shoes, let my hair fall freely over my shoulders, and applied light touches of makeup to hide the paleness of my face and the dullness of my eyes.
Having regained some of my strength and composure, I headed to the dining hall.
I appeared with a new look, as if announcing the end of a painful chapter and the beginning of another, more confident and stronger.
The majestic silence of the castle enveloped me as I stepped through its spacious corridors. Every step increased the stillness of the place until I reached my destination.
I pushed the ornate door slowly to enter the luxurious dining hall.
I headed to the large table and sat in my usual spot, but I noticed the hall was empty.
"It seems I arrived early,"
I thought. Only moments passed before the maids entered, arranging lavish dishes that wafted delicious aromas.
The food was tempting, its colors appetizing, as if every dish was a work of art. I sat watching the scene, preparing to enjoy a quiet, delicious meal.
A glimmer of hope lit my eyes, but it soon faded as I remembered that table etiquette forbade me from eating before everyone else.
My God, I am starving! I crossed my arms over my chest in annoyance, as if restraining my wild urge to pounce on the sparkling dishes before me.
I began watching the door, anticipating the arrival of the others with bated breath.
Whenever someone entered the hall, I shot them an eager look, hoping the time for relief had come. But the wait dragged on, and my hunger grew sharper, as if I were being punished for a crime I didn't commit.
Arin entered the hall with a wide smile on his face, holding the hand of a strange girl. They exchanged talks and whispers as if they were in another world. Shock wasn't the first thing I felt; rather, a wide smile finally appeared on my face. I knew the truth—this was his mate.
Suddenly, their eyes fell on me.
Their laughter stopped, and looks of astonishment and surprise appeared on their faces. I stared back in wonder; I found nothing inside me but bewilderment at their reaction, as if they hadn't expected me to be there.
In that moment, I couldn't say anything; my words vanished into the air. Only one word escaped my mouth, full of wonder:
"What?"
"Luna,"
Arin whispered in disbelief.
I froze in my place, watching him and the girl approach me very slowly, while her features reflected confusion.
As they drew near, I said:
"Arin, who is this beauty? And what's with you? Why do you look so surprised and shocked, as if you've seen a ghost?"
My words carried a sharp reproach.
Arin's tone rose as he said:
"Thank God you woke up!"
Signs of relief appeared on his face.
I looked at him in wonder, not understanding the reason for all this drama he was creating.
"Don't be dramatic,"
I said mockingly.
"I only slept for one night."
Arin went silent for a moment, exchanging glances with the strange girl who stood beside him, looking flustered.
Annoyed by this strange silence, I added impatiently:
"What is it?"
The girl sighed deeply, as if preparing to say something heavy, then replied slowly:
"You've been asleep for a whole week."
My expression shifted from bewilderment to shock.
"Whaaaat? Are you joking with me?"
I said in a voice that was almost a whisper, unable to comprehend what I heard.
I looked at Arin, my eyes searching his face for any sign that this was a joke. But he nodded and answered calmly:
"Yes, you slept for a whole week."
"I never imagined that a mere cold and a panic attack would make you do all this,"
Arin said, then introduced his mate:
"Luna, this is Lauren, my mate."
"Pleasured to meet you, Luna," she said in a calm tone. I gave a light smile and said:
"Thanks, but there's no need for stupid formalities and titles. Just call me Sera."
Lauren chuckled softly while I watched my distorted reflection in the silverware, muttering:
"Where is that damn wolf?"
Arin was struggling to stifle his laughter.
The door opened, and everyone in the hall turned.
"Here comes His Honorable Presence,"
I thought sarcastically.
He stepped forward to the head of the table, piercing me with his sharp gaze.
I ignored him completely, as if he were a mirage.
We began eating, but I couldn't taste anything while feeling his eyes boring into me. "That's enough," I muttered internally.
"I'm not a piece of art to be stared at like this."
I sighed deeply, raised my head, and looked at him with annoyance as he sat at the head of the table, continuing his meal, yet his eyes never left me.
"Is there a problem with my face?"
I asked in a low but firm voice.
He raised his left eyebrow, a mocking smile appearing on his face, and replied:
"You, yourself, are a disaster."
His words froze in the air.
I felt anger boiling in my veins.
"I'll show you what this disaster can do, Mr. Night,"
I thought, glaring at him.
He returned to his food, ignoring me as if I didn't exist. But this time, I didn't ignore him. My eyes followed him as if I were plotting a plan for revenge.
Then Julia burst onto the scene like a ray of sunlight in the darkness of the hall.
She rushed toward me, hugging me warmly as if we had been friends for ages.
This sudden embrace overwhelmed me with warmth and safety after I had been feeling cold and uncomfortable.
"Dear Sera, thank God you're okay!"
Julia said, her voice full of relief.
This girl is truly sweet; I've started to love her.
Julia pulled back, but her eyes remained fixed on my face.
She couldn't hide her joy at my presence. She sat beside me and began telling me about the days I had missed, her eyes shining with excitement.
As she talked, she stuffed her mouth with food, creating a funny expression of focus on her face.
I couldn't suppress my laughter; I giggled and pinched her cheek softly, saying,
"Cute."
Her face turned red with shyness, like a little child, and she replied softly, "Sera!" I giggled again at her appearance; her innocence and spontaneous nature were enough to remove the dust of anxiety and tension that surrounded me.
In that moment, I felt that someone understood me. Julia, with her innocent laughter, had begun to become a part of my life.
While Julia was laughing, I felt a pang of bitterness. My tone changed, mixed with a moment of sadness and memories:
"You remind me of my friend, Zoe."
Julia smiled gently, seemingly not missing my tone.
"It seems you were close."
I nodded, burying my eyes in the edge of the plate.
"She's my childhood friend."
Every word leaving my mouth took me back to the past—to a time when innocence and safety reigned. I didn't realize then that life would be this hard. I didn't know I would lose Zoe.
I lifted my head and saw the look of understanding in Julia's eyes.
She saw beyond the words.
She saw my sadness and the longing in my eyes. She didn't try to judge; she just gave me space to remember.
I returned to the past for a moment, to childhood days, to Zoe.
How I miss her.
Dinner finally ended, as if it were a test of my endurance. I felt as if every bite I swallowed was under the microscope of that
"damn wolf."
I was on the verge of suffocating.
Fortunately, Julia intervened at the right time:
"Girls, why don't we go to the castle garden and chat for a bit?"
Her idea was a lifesaver.
"Good idea,"
I replied quickly, clinging to it like a lifeboat. So, we left that stifling hall, heading to the garden.
As we walked, Lauren joined us.
She was quiet and reserved, unlike Julia, but friendly in her own way.
She began talking about what happened—about why I lost consciousness, and about my breed and the power I carry.
At first, I listened intently, but with every word, my heart trembled.
My breed? Power? No one had ever told me this.
I remembered my mother and that she never mentioned anything about this. Was she hiding something from me? I looked at Lauren, then at Julia, both looking at me with sympathy.
I felt confused, as if the world I knew had turned upside down.
As Lauren told me the details, she spoke about Night and what he did for me, and about the mark being the only way to save me.
The words seeped into my ears but froze in my mind. The mark is what saved me. He is the one who made me live. I felt shame and regret gnawing at my heart.
Then I remembered his coldness toward me and his biting words that were like a knife in my chest. For a moment, I felt regret. But anger resurfaced.
"Don't sympathize with him, Sera; he deserves it,"
I muttered, trying to convince myself.
I returned to my room, skipping lunch as my appetite turned into a lump in my throat.
I threw myself onto the bed haphazardly, as if dropping a heavy burden.
I stared at the ceiling, thinking about everything—my mother, Zoe, my strange breed, and that power I carry.
"My God, I'm so bored,"
I whispered. Suddenly, I remembered what Julia said:
"There is a training room in the back courtyard of the castle."
This idea ignited a spark inside me.
I leaped out of bed and put on workout clothes. My need for movement, for venting negative energy, was greater than anything else.
I left my room and headed toward the back courtyard, my heart pounding with excitement as if going to a battlefield.
I finally reached the training hall, my panting reflecting my eagerness.
I didn't expect to find anyone here, but a loud noise from inside caught my attention—the sound of violent, successive punches on a punching bag, as if someone were pouring out their rage.
I entered quietly, making sure not to make a sound, while my eyes scanned the place for the source of the noise. I was shocked to see Night training brutally.
His back was to me, shirtless, wearing only shorts. Sweat glistened on his broad back muscles, flowing along their curves.
In that look, he was enticing as a curse.
I couldn't take my eyes off him.
This man stirred a strange feeling in me—a feeling of attraction I didn't expect.
I scolded myself internally for my thoughts. My contemplation was interrupted by his cold voice:
"What are you doing here?"
He turned slowly, as if time had stopped for a moment. And oh, I wish he hadn't turned! His chest and abdominal muscles were prominent and tightly defined, as if carved from stone.
Strands of his black hair clung to his forehead with sweat, increasing his charisma.
I couldn't stop my eyes from scanning his body; every part fit perfectly with the others.
I snapped out of my daze again as his mocking voice echoed:
"Do you like what you see?"
I felt ashamed, as if caught red-handed in a crime. My face turned red, but I tried to stay strong, catching my breath and gathering my words.
"No, that wasn't what I was watching."
I added, trying to sound uninterested:
"I was just seeing if the hall was empty."
My words weren't convincing, and I knew it.
He smiled wickedly, as if seeing right through my lie.
"Well, now you know it isn't."
He said, returning to his exercises, ignoring me once more.
I felt angry and insulted, but I didn't move.
I didn't expect him to intervene again, but his voice pierced the barrier of ignore he had built:
"Are you going to keep standing there all day?"
He said while continuing to punch the bag brutally. I looked at the bag, contemplating the scars he left on it, and thought to myself:
"I truly pity that poor thing."
I didn't answer him; instead, I headed to the treadmill. I began warming up, trying to focus on my movements and the sound of my breath, ignoring his presence.
I didn't want to give him any reaction—any proof that his words affected me.
I knew he was watching me; I felt his eyes on my back.
After running for a bit, I felt the blood flowing in my veins, and my mind began to clear.
I headed to the punching bag Night was training on and stood before it, ready to vent all the anger and frustration boiling inside me.
I began stretching, preparing my body and mind. Then, I started kicking the bag with different moves I had learned in previous fights. Kicking, hitting, jumping—every move expressed a dormant power I had forgotten.
I was completely immersed in training, focusing on every move and every kick, as if fighting a hidden enemy. Everything around me vanished; nothing existed but me and the bag.
Suddenly, I made a quick move, kicking the bag with all my might. I felt a massive explosion and a booming sound. The bag flew into the air and exploded against the wall, leaving dust flying everywhere.
I froze in my place, shocked by what I had done. I looked at the bag that had turned to dust and at Night, who was staring at me in shock.
I laughed awkwardly, a laugh devoid of any joy, pointing my hand at the scattered remains of the bag on the floor.
"There's something wrong with that bag, isn't there?"
I said, glancing at Night, who was standing before me, his eyes amazed at my act.
"Don't look at me like that,"
I said irritably, trying to hide my confusion. He regained his senses, eyeing me with his usual coldness.
"Control yourself next time, stupid."
He said, returning to his exercises, lifting weights as if nothing had happened.
I sat on one of the benches, trying to catch my breath. I took a towel and a water bottle, drying my sweat and quenching my thirst.
I felt refreshed, as if destroying the bag had pulled all my anger away with it.
"I wish it had been Night; I would have felt more relieved,"
I muttered, imagining that
"damn wolf"
under my punches.
He stepped forward and sat beside me, wafting his enticing scent. He snatched the towel from my hand, and before I could grumble or object, he said:
"This is mine."
His words were cold and powerful, as if commanding me to be silent.
I looked at him; his face was devoid of expression, but there was a look of challenge in his eyes. I felt angry, but I couldn't say anything.
Then I remembered I hadn't brought a towel with me. While trying to ignore Night, I suddenly felt a strange itch in that mark.
My God, it's been bothering me since I woke up.
"My God, it won't stop itching!"
I muttered, rubbing the spot hard. I felt irritation, and the mark began to turn red from excessive scratching.
"What's wrong with you?"
Night asked in his usual cold tone. I lifted my head, looked at him, and said irritably:
"Since I woke up, it hasn't stopped itching."
I couldn't hide the expression of resentment on my face.
He grabbed my hand.
The moment he touched me, I felt thousands of sparks dancing along my body—a feeling both familiar and strange.
He moved my hand away from the mark, which was throbbing with heat and itchiness, and shifted my shirt slightly to reveal it. The mark was very red, as if burning with an internal fire.
He began touching it softly, making me let out a soft gasp.
That feeling again. It wasn't a gasp of pain, but of amazement, as if his touch was removing the pain and filling a void. I was flustered by his touches, feeling exposed before him.
"What... what are you doing?"
I whispered, trying to control the tremor in my voice. I looked at him, and his eyes never left the mark, as if he saw something in it that I didn't.
He didn't answer but didn't stop. He began to lean toward me, tilting his head slowly toward the mark burning on my neck. I felt his presence engulfing me, his scent drifting into my nose. He turned me toward him like a doll in his hands, while his hot breath fanned my neck, numbing me and freezing me in place.
Placing his lips on the spot of the mark, I felt him kissing me, leaving a hot trail on my skin. My body stiffened; I couldn't move or scream. Damn it, what is he trying to do? I want to push him away, I want to move him from me, but something prevents me.
It was as if my body and mind split in two. One half wanted to resist, and the other relished this proximity. He ran his tongue over the mark—a feeling stranger than anything I'd experienced.
I felt his warm, wet tongue on my skin, as if a small flame had ignited, spreading through every cell of my body. His extreme closeness and enticing appearance didn't help me think rationally.
I gripped my trousers tightly, as if clinging to life, and closed my eyes, breathing with difficulty. I couldn't control my body; all I was doing was surrendering to this strange feeling invading me.
I felt him going further, so I placed my hand on his chest, trying to push him lightly.
"Night,"
I said in a faint voice, barely audible. But he didn't budge; instead, he pulled me closer.
"Damn it, this isn't good,"
I whispered to myself.
"Night!"
I said louder, trying to ignore my wolf's voice in my head. Seran was fierce, resisting me and repeating,
"I want my mate." Her possessiveness was stronger than anything.
"Night... please,"
I said again, but this time in a tone of pleading. This word was a lifeline, a desperate attempt to stop him from doing something we might regret.
His body stiffened, as if my words were an electric shock. He pulled back slowly and regained his consciousness.
His face was beaded with sweat, and his eyes were glowing red.
He was resisting his wolf, which was trying to take control.
"My saliva will stop the itching temporarily,"
he said in a low voice, barely audible, and hurried to leave with his wolf's speed before it overtook him. I felt as if I were separating from my body, as if in a dream.
"What?" I asked myself. "What just happened?"
To my surprise, the itching stopped completely. It was replaced by a strange comfort I hadn't known before. "Amazing," I muttered in shock, feeling the spot of the mark with my hand.
Then I realized what had happened. My God, how will I face Night now? My face is burning with embarrassment.
I felt like I wanted to cry, to scream, to run away. I couldn't stay in that hall for another second. I headed back to my room.
"A warm bath, yes, a warm bath will make me forget all this,"
I repeated, trying to convince myself this strange incident never happened.
But I know deep down a bath won't make me forget. It won't make me forget Night's look, his touches, or his strange kiss.
It won't make me forget the confusion or the strange comfort that overwhelmed me.
Dinner time came, and my stomach was growling with hunger, but I no longer cared about eating.
All that occupied my mind was how I would face him after what happened in the training hall.
"My God, what have I done to myself?"
I muttered.
"How will I meet him now?"
I try to pull myself together, to regain some strength.
"Okay Sera, just ignore him. Yes, ignore him like he's not there,"
I repeat these words in my head like an incantation. "Damn it!"
I opened my room door to head to the dining hall. With every step, my heart pounded harder.
"I hope that damn wolf doesn't show up,"
I think.
When I entered the dining hall, my eyes searched for him. But he wasn't there.
I felt relief, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from my chest.
"Thank God,"
I whispered. I sat in my seat and began eating, but my eyes didn't stop wandering around the hall. I fear he might appear at any moment.
I didn't care for table etiquette; my empty stomach was more urgent than any protocols.
I began stuffing food quickly, my eyes watching the entrance, hoping he wouldn't enter before I silenced my hunger.
But he did I didn't realize he was there until our eyes met. He was entering the hall, casting his sharp glances. Suddenly, I felt the food get stuck in my throat, as if I were about to choke.
I coughed violently, hit my chest, trying to force the food down, and drank water quickly.
"Damn you, you arrogant jerk,"
I thought, as I breathed with relief. This wasn't the first time this had happened; whenever he enters, something bothers me, reminding me of his presence.
I looked at him again; he was eyeing me with his usual looks.
"Doesn't he get tired of watching me?"
I thought, as anger increased in my heart.
Finally, dinner was over. I couldn't finish my meal; the image of Night in the training hall and his cold words wouldn't leave my mind.
I intended to leave, ignoring everyone's looks, and headed directly to Julia's wing. She was the only one I could trust now, and the only one who could explain to me what happened. I knocked on her door gently.
"Come in, Sera!"
Her cheerful voice came from inside.
I opened the door, and she welcomed me with a wide smile, starting to chatter as usual—talking about everything and nothing, moving from one topic to another so fast I couldn't keep up.
"Haaaay Julia!"
I said loudly, trying to interrupt her, but she didn't hear me. She continued talking as if she didn't see my hand waving in the air.
"Julia! Shut up for a bit!"
I said this time in a firm tone.
"I want to tell you something."
She finally stopped and looked at me, her eyes full of curiosity. I took a deep breath, trying to find the right words.
"Does werewolf saliva have healing properties?"
I asked, as if talking about a normal scientific topic. Julia looked at me in wonder, then narrowed her eyes as if trying to understand what was going through my head.
"What do you mean, Sera?"
I felt ashamed, but I didn't give up.
"Umm... like... if you have an itch in the mark... and he... licks it..."
I didn't finish the sentence, but I nodded. "You understand, right?"
Julia's face shifted from wonder to shock, then to understanding.
"Sera... did..."
I added before she could finish,
"Don't ask. Just tell me. Is this normal? Is this... healthy?"
She smiled wickedly, nodding her head. "Damn, I don't like this smile,"
I muttered internally.
"Yes, it's true,"
Julia said, the wicked smile widening on her face.
"But in only one case: that he is your mate. This itching happens if the mating isn't complete."
"Whaaaat?" I screamed, feeling shame engulf me.
"You must complete the mating for the itching to stop permanently,"
she said, as if talking about a normal ritual. "My God," I thought.
"And that's not all. You forgot about 'The Heat'."
"And what is The Heat?" I asked, feeling confused. Julia looked at me, her face reflecting a mix of shock and disbelief. How could I not know about
"The Heat"?
To her, it was obvious, as if I knew nothing fundamental about the world I live in.
"You don't know about The Heat?"
she asked, her gaze still carrying that mix of pity and amazement. I shook my head in denial, like a small child who knows nothing. She sighed deeply, as if preparing to explain a difficult lesson.
"The Heat happens if the necessary conditions for completing the mate bond aren't met."
She paused for a bit, as if giving me space to absorb what she said. I felt ashamed, but I couldn't stop her. My curiosity was greater than anything.
"What... what do you mean?"
I whispered, hoping she wouldn't hear me.
"It's a natural thing among werewolves. It happens when mates cannot complete the mating. It can cause severe pain with heat that cannot be relieved by any medicine."
Julia paused a bit, then continued:
"Only your mate can relieve this... his proximity to you and his touches lessen the intensity of the pain."
Her words echoed in my ears like distant echoes. I cannot believe it. I cannot accept that this man, who treated me coldly and considered me a "disaster," is the only one who can help me.
"This is madness," I thought. "This is absolute madness!"