Preparing for festival

Selene POV

The laughter from the ballroom still echoed in my ears, long after the music had faded into silence. I sat on the edge of my narrow bed, bent my knees drawn to my chest, arms draped over them. The candle beside me flickered weakly.

I couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d seen earlier. The swirl of gowns glittering like jewels, the guests gliding across the marble floors as if they belonged to another world entirely. Their faces shone with joy.

I pressed my chin against my knees, jealousy twisting sharp in my chest. I’ll never know what it feels like to dance like that, I thought bitterly. To move without fear, to laugh without chains pressing invisibly against my throat. My place was here, hidden, shadowed, always watching but never belonging.

The thought burned more than I wanted to admit.

Then—a sound.

The sharp scrape of wood against metal. The door. My head snapped up, heart lurching. Someone was forcing it open.

In a panic, I reached under my pillow and pulled free the knife I always kept hidden. My hand trembled as I crept toward the door, each heartbeat pounding louder than the last. The latch rattled, hinges groaned, and then—

The door gave way.

I raised the knife high, pointing it straight at the intruder. “Who are you?” My voice wavered, thin and shaking.

“Selene.”

The sound of his voice stole the air from my lungs. Aeron.

He stepped inside quickly and shut the door behind him, his movements swift but careful, as if he feared someone might see. His eyes locked on mine, intense yet softened at the edges.

My grip faltered, the blade lowering ever so slightly. “What happened?” I asked breathlessly, stepping back, giving him space—or perhaps giving myself a way out.

But before I could retreat further, he moved.

Aeron closed the gap between us in a heartbeat, pulling me against him with a force that made the knife nearly slip from my hand. My face pressed into his chest—hard, broad, and alive with heat. The scent of him filled me. He bent close, his breath grazing the hollow of my neck.

My whole body shuddered.

“Aeron, what are you doing?” I gasped, voice cracking. My hands pushed at him, weakly, desperately, though the strength in his frame felt immovable.

He didn’t let go. His hold only tightened, his heart thundering beneath my cheek. His eyes, when I dared to look, blazed with something untamed—something dangerous.

“I want to mark you, Selene,” he whispered, his lips so close to mine I could feel the heat of every word.

I froze. Mark?

Confusion and dread tangled inside me.

“Mark? What are you talking about?” I stammered, trying to wrench free. My pulse roared in my ears.

He didn’t answer. Not with words.

His lips crashed onto mine.

My eye flew wide. His mouth was hot, insistent, pulling me under like a tide I couldn't fight. Shock rippled through me, but beneath it, a dizzying warmth unfurled, spreading through my chest, my stomach felt a thousand fluttering butterflies.

My fingers gripped his tunic, torn between shoving him away and clinging to him tighter.

I forced the knife up between us. My hand shook violently, the blade quivering, but I held it firm against him.

“Stop, Aeron,” I pleaded, voice raw.

It was as if the words shattered some spell.

He pulled back abruptly, his eyes wide, shock flashing across his face. His chest rose and fell heavily, lips parted as if he’d just woken from a dream he couldn’t quite remember.

“What… what happened?” he whispered hoarsely, confusion etched into every line of his face.

The fire in me burned lower, replaced by fear and something dangerously close to heartbreak.

“Get out of my room,” I said, louder this time, though my voice still shook. I held the knife high, forcing strength into my trembling hand.

His expression crumbled. Guilt carved shadows across his features, softening the fierceness I had seen only moments before. For a heartbeat, he looked almost broken.

“I’m sorry, Selene,” he breathed, barely more than a whisper. And then he stepped back.

One, two steps toward the door. His gaze lingered on me for a fleeting moment—then he turned and fled into the night.

The silence that followed was deafening.

The silence in my room stretched after Aeron left, thick and suffocating. My hand still trembled as I lowered the knife, the blade catching the faint moonlight spilling through the small window. My breath came uneven, like I had run a great distance, though I hadn’t moved from that one spot near the door.

His words echoed in my skull, refusing to fade.

“I want to mark you, Selene.”

Mark me? What did that mean? I had heard the whispers of such things in hushed tones, old tales told by slaves around the fire when the guards weren’t listening—wolves choosing their mate, binding them for life with teeth and blood. But those were just stories, weren’t they? Legends, like the prophecies the priests recited.

And yet… his eyes, his heat, the way my body reacted against my will—it was real. Too real.

I sank back onto my bed, clutching the knife to my chest as though it could protect me from the chaos inside my heart. I should fear him. I wanted to fear him. But when he held me, my body hadn’t screamed danger—it had melted, yearning for more.

My mark burned faintly on my shoulder, as if stirred awake by his presence.

I pressed my palm to it, biting my lip hard to keep from crying out.