'It can't see me. It can't see me. It can't see me.' Sloane's eyes were tightly shut as she chanted the words over and over again, as though if she said it enough times, it would become her reality.
As though, if she kept her eyes shut for long enough, she would be back in that damp, mould-covered shoebox room she'd known all her life and realise all of this had just been one terrible nightmare.
She might have woken up freezing tonight also, with only a thread-bare blanket to her name. Her stomach would twist and protest in hunger at the memories of the single stale bread that had served as her daily ration for as long as she could remember.
Still, she would have been grateful for the end of yet another gruelling day, her heart warm with thoughts of Grayson, eager for their next rendezvous, and hopeful for their life together.
Her life hadn't been much to brag about. But at least, she'd been safe. At least, she had a future to look forward too.
But now…All of that had changed.
Now, she was stuck in a deadly hunt, with the most fearsome species of the realm, and perhaps a thousand other dangers like the armored boar lurking in these haunted woods, all gunning for prey like her.
And she was the weakest of them all.
Sloane had known it from the moment she woke up in that carriage.
Pathetic, unprepared, vulnerable. She was exactly the kind that died first in the plays.
Every she-wolf was blessed with a moon gift. But she'd been wrong from birth. An anomaly. A mistake.
Human…
She had no training to boast of, beyond wielding an embroidery needle to mend countless tears in the laundry room.
What hopes could she have of seeing another sunrise? Of escaping a berserk Lycan?
None.
The woods had gone strangely still. The atmosphere was heavy with the weight of it, and an eerie silence nestled over the clearing.
When her eyes snapped open, the gigantic wolf beast with the moon markings was gone. In its place, stood a young man in a black cloak, almost a perfect replica of that she'd seen on the Red Knight.
The hood of his cloak was pulled back, revealing a rough cut, yet youthful beauty that left Sloane in awe, despite the imminent danger his presence portrayed.
Her heart thudded against her ribcage. Her pulse racing a mile a minute.
If she didn't have a hand clamped over her lips to stifle any sounds, the beating organ might have jumped right out of her mouth. Ending her pathetic life, at least swifter than those massive claws of the wolf beast.
Had he noticed her hiding among the branches? She could have sworn, he'd looked straight at her a moment ago. Eyes wild, and rabid. Maws gaping, and dripping slobber.
But maybe she'd been wrong. She hoped dearly, that she was.
The man loomed over the fallen boar, his silhouette illuminated by the moonlight. His stance was relaxed but regal. Like he hadn't just ripped out the heart of a beast in one move. Like he didn't have a single care in the world.
And why would he? The moon had blessed him with a rugged beauty many would kill for.
Hair as dark as the night itself, falling over his face in unruly waves. Flawless skin that glinted with a silvery glow in the darkness. A jawline as sharply sculpted as a blade.
A steady stream of blood dripped from his hand where he clutched the bleeding heart of the armored boar.
His brows were slightly furrowed in what Sloane could only guess was annoyance.
At the dead beast? Or something else?
She didn't know. Sloane wasn't sure she even wanted to find out.
After what felt like an eternity of stillness, but must have been just a few heart beats, he finally moved.
He carelessly tossed aside the heart, like it was an item of no consequence. Leaning over the dead boar, he tugged at something.
Sloane swallowed down her terror. Against her better judgement, she leaned forward curiously.
'What was he doing digging around the carcass?' she wondered,
Vampires fed on blood. Or so she'd heard. Were Lycans cannibals too?
Someone had definitely forgotten to give her that memo.
But then again, it was Sancia who should have been here. Not her.
She adjusted her position for a closer look. The shuffling sound echoed louder in the silence of the night than she had anticipated.
Her heart shriveled.
He'd definitely heard her this time. This was it…this was how she would die. At the claws of a hauntingly beautiful Lycan.
A heartbeat, and then a few later, Sloane's apprehension was met with silence. The Lycan didn't turn. He didn't even flinch.
She was still safe. At least, for now.
But she didn't dare brave a sigh of relief. She was walking on thin enough ice already. Maybe, just maybe, she would survive the night.
When he stood erect again, he lifted a metal tag to his view. It swayed in the gentle night breeze, catching rays of moonlight.
"Ten points?" He scoffed beneath his breath, "For this?"
His tone was biting as he threw the boar a scathing look. "You're worth a lot more than you deserve, aren't you?"
Shaking his head, he tucked the tag away underneath his cloak. "Those bloodsuckers would be here any moment now." He muttered, "I'd bet my royal ass that self-absorbed prick of a Vampire King won't let this opportunity go to waste."
His voice was a rich baritone, and when he turned, Sloane caught her first glimpse of his eyes, at least in this form.
But this time, she didn't have the luxury of awe.
The Lycan had shifted his attention from the carcass and was now making a beeline towards her.
Sloane cowered up in the tree.
He knew.
All along, he'd known.
He'd let her believe she was safe, meanwhile he had only been saving her for last.
She wouldn't survive the night after all.
It was over. She was doomed.