The Wolfless Gamma's Forbidden Lycan King

ADELAIDE HUGHES POV:

My fingers, scraped raw by the rough stone, left faint bloody smears that quickly dried in the cold night wind. The drug surged again, making every movement an agony, a tearing of muscle and will.

A shriek echoed from my room above. "She's gone! The little bitch escaped through the window!" It was Mrs. Gable.

Immediately, the chaotic thud of guards' boots and the dancing light of torches filled the courtyard below. They were starting the search. I had to be faster.

I quickened my descent. A loose stone crumbled under my foot, clattering down into the darkness below. My heart seized. I froze, pressing my body flat against the wall, holding my breath.

The torchlight swept past my position, moving toward the forest. A small mercy. They assumed I would run for the woods, not toward this place of death.

My feet finally touched the ground. My legs buckled, and I nearly collapsed. The air in the North Wing was thick with the smell of dust and decay, but underneath it, there was something else—a faint, crisp scent like a winter forest, cold and clean.

Before me stood a massive oak door, shrouded in dust and creeping ivy. The door knocker was a snarling wolf's head, its empty eyes seeming to stare right through me.

This was the lair of the "Ancient One."

I knew there was no turning back. The shouts of the guards were getting closer, and among them, I heard a voice I despised more than any other—Eleanor Serrano, the matriarch of this wretched family.

"Find her! Dead or alive!" Her shrill command cut through the night, dripping with venom.

I took a deep breath, raised a trembling hand, and knocked. The sound was hollow, swallowed by the silent courtyard.

Nothing.

My heart sank. Was the legend false? Was he not here?

The torchlight of the search party appeared at the courtyard entrance. I could see the glint of light on their armor.

Desperation took over. I stopped knocking and started pounding on the door with my fists, with my whole body, my voice a raw croak. "Please! Open the door! Help me!"

The drug was a fire in my veins now, my body heating uncontrollably, my skin flushing a feverish red. They had mixed it with something else, an aphrodisiac to make me compliant for Finch. Vile.

Just as a guard spotted me, just as they began to charge, the heavy oak door slid open without a sound, just a crack.

I didn't hesitate. I squeezed through the opening. The door slid silently shut behind me, cutting off the noise, the light, the entire world.

Outside, I could hear Eleanor's furious curses and the guards' startled cries, but none dared to approach the door.

I was in a vast, empty hall, lit only by a sliver of moonlight from a high, domed ceiling. The cold, crisp scent was stronger here, carrying an oppressive weight, an aura of indisputable power.

A tall figure stood in the center of the hall, his back to me. He wore simple, dark robes, and his short, black hair seemed to drink the moonlight.

He didn't turn. His voice was deep and cold, like it was dredged up from a frozen abyss. "Who gave you the audacity to trespass in my domain?"

My legs gave out. I leaned against the wall to keep from falling. "I... I'm being hunted," I gasped. "I need sanctuary."

"Sanctuary?" He finally turned, slowly. I couldn't see his face clearly in the gloom, only a pair of gray eyes that burned like embers in the dark, ancient and utterly indifferent. He was nothing like the decrepit old man I had imagined. He was young.

He stepped closer, and his nostrils flared almost imperceptibly. For a heartbeat, something flickered in those gray eyes—surprise, maybe recognition. I heard him murmur, so low I barely caught it: "Frost... and embers? That scent... it's been centuries." Then his gaze sharpened, and his voice turned glacial again.

"The Serranos' little problems are of no concern to me," he said, his tone so cold it was clear he was about to throw me back to the wolves.

The heat in my body was becoming unbearable, my sanity fraying. I knew simple begging would be useless against a being like this.

I needed to give him a reason he couldn't refuse. A bargain that would pique the interest of something that had seen everything.

Shaking, I took a step toward him. The tattered remains of my dress offered little modesty after the climb. "I... I have nothing to offer you," I said, lifting my head to meet those terrifying eyes.

I steeled myself, gathering the last of my willpower for the most insane gamble of my life.

I reached up and tore the neckline of my dress, exposing skin flushed crimson by the drug. "But I can offer you... myself."

The air in the hall solidified. The cold, clean scent of him became intensely predatory, an invisible net closing around me.

In the depths of his gray eyes, a strange light flickered. It was the look of a hunter who has just spotted unexpected, intriguing prey.