A Monster’s Curiosity

The room was silent except for the crackling of the torches along the walls. The air was thick with something Elara couldn't name—danger, mystery, or maybe a pull that shouldn't have been there.

Valrik was still crouched beside her bed, his piercing golden eyes locked onto the faintly glowing mark on her wrist. His fingers remained there, barely touching her skin, yet it felt as if his presence had already seeped into her bones.

Elara tried to jerk her hand away, but his grip tightened just slightly, keeping her in place.

"Tell me what you are," he ordered.

The demand was calm, yet there was an edge to his voice, something dark curling beneath the surface.

Elara's throat was dry. "I'm just—just a girl."

His gaze flickered, as if testing the weight of her words. He lifted his free hand, trailing his fingers lightly over the mark. A strange heat flared beneath his touch, something unnatural, something alive.

Elara sucked in a breath. "I don't know what that is. I've never seen it before."

Valrik didn't answer immediately. His jaw clenched, and for a fleeting moment, something like frustration passed over his face.

Then, just as suddenly as he'd grabbed her, he released her.

"Liar."

Elara's heart lurched. "I'm not lying! I swear, I don't know anything about this!"

Valrik let out a quiet chuckle, but there was no amusement in it. "Then why is it glowing?"

Elara glanced down at her wrist again, dread curling in her stomach. The faint silver glow was fading now, but the fact remained—it had never been there before.

A shiver ran down her spine.

What was happening to her?

She turned back to Valrik, but he was already standing, towering over her once more. "You intrigue me," he repeated, his voice softer this time. "But if you're lying—"

His fingers brushed her chin, tilting her face up so she could see the deadly promise in his gaze.

"I'll carve the truth out of you myself."

Elara's breath caught, but before she could respond, he was gone—vanishing into the darkness as if he had never been there at all.

The moment he disappeared, she collapsed against the thin mattress, her pulse roaring in her ears.

What have I gotten myself into?

—

Morning came faster than Elara wanted.

She barely had time to process what had happened the night before before she was yanked from sleep by a sharp voice.

"Up. Now."

Elara blinked groggily, her vision adjusting to the dim light. The same servant woman from yesterday, the one who had given her Valrik's breakfast, stood at the foot of her bed, arms crossed.

"You're lucky he let you live," the woman muttered. "But you're not free yet."

Elara pushed herself up, wincing at the ache in her limbs. "What do you mean?"

The woman tossed a folded piece of fabric onto the bed. "You're his personal attendant now."

Elara's stomach dropped.

"What?"

The servant sighed. "The Alpha chooses who serves him. And he chose you."

Elara shook her head. "No. No, that can't be right."

The woman gave her a dry look. "Then go argue with him yourself."

Elara shut her mouth.

Yeah. Not happening.

The woman gestured to the fabric. "Put that on and be in the main hall before breakfast."

Elara hesitated before unfolding the cloth. It was a simple black dress—modest, but still far nicer than the rags she'd been given before.

She bit her lip.

This felt like a trap.

But she didn't have a choice.

—

Elara arrived at the grand hall with her stomach twisted in knots.

She had expected a dozen people to be inside, maybe more. But when she stepped in, she found only one person.

Valrik.

He was seated at the head of the long dining table, one hand resting lazily on the arm of his chair while the other gripped a silver goblet.

The moment she entered, his gaze snapped to her.

Elara froze.

The silence was unbearable.

His golden eyes dragged over her form, slow and calculating, before he gestured to the tray of food on the nearby table.

"Serve me," he said.

Elara swallowed. She moved quickly, picking up the tray with slightly shaking hands and stepping forward. The closer she got, the more she felt him—his presence thick in the air, his power humming beneath his skin.

She set the food in front of him carefully, but before she could pull away, his voice stopped her.

"Elara."

Her breath hitched.

He rarely said her name.

She looked up, only to find him staring at her with something unreadable in his expression.

Then, crack!

The goblet in his hand shattered.

Elara gasped as the shards hit the table, dark red liquid spilling over the surface.

But it wasn't wine.

It was blood.

Her stomach turned. "My Lord—"

Valrik slowly lifted his hand, revealing a long, deep gash where the metal had cut into his palm.

The air around him shifted, darkened, and the temperature in the room dropped.

Elara's body screamed at her to run—but her feet wouldn't move.

Valrik's voice was low, almost dangerous.

"You."

Elara's breathing became shallow. "M-Me?"

His fingers twitched. "You did something to me."

Elara took a shaky step back. "I—I didn't—"

"Liar."

A sharp wind tore through the hall, sending the torches flickering violently. The floor seemed to tremble beneath her feet, and the shadows in the room stretched, curling toward her like living things.

Valrik stood.

The pressure in the room intensified, so strong that Elara's knees nearly buckled.

He wasn't human.

He had never been human.

And whatever was inside him, whatever curse had been placed upon him, was about to break free.

Her pulse thundered in her ears.

She had to stop this.

Without thinking, she lunged forward, grabbing his wrist. "Valrik, stop!"

The moment her skin touched his, something snapped.

A powerful shockwave exploded outward, rattling the walls and snuffing out the torches completely.

For a split second, everything was silent.

Then—

He collapsed.

Elara barely caught him. His full weight nearly dragged her down, but she held on, her heart pounding wildly.

What just happened?

She looked down at him, panic rising in her chest. His breathing was ragged, his skin burning hot beneath her touch.

The fear she had felt moments ago was replaced with something else.

Something dangerous.

Worry.

For him.

Before she could process that terrifying thought, Valrik's eyes fluttered open.

Golden—no, glowing—and filled with something new.

Something that made her stomach tighten.

Recognition.

Valrik's lips parted slightly, and though his voice was weak, his next words sent a chill down her spine.

"I remember you."

Elara's heart stopped.

He remembered?

Remembered what?

But before she could ask, Valrik's grip on her wrist tightened, and a new truth hit her like a punch to the chest.

Whatever had just happened between them—it was only the beginning.