Illeana's P.O.V.
Hours pass in unbroken silence. Surprisingly, the rogue refrains from intruding upon my contemplation, a grace for which I find myself oddly thankful.
The sight of my supposed mate, the one destined to bring me joy and completion, has now become a stark disappointment. The anticipation of this moment, which should have been the happiest in my life, has been replaced by a heavy burden of disillusionment. My other half, the figure I am intrinsically bound to, has turned out to be a recurring character from my nightmares.
He was never that handsome in your nightmares, my wolf's voice chimes in, a touch of arousal lacing her commentary. I brush her words aside, unwilling to entertain her unhelpful observations. Despite any aesthetic appeal he may possess, I remain acutely aware of the darkness that resides within him. My resolve remains unwavering; my determination to escape before he recognizes the mate bond remains my goal.
As footsteps echo down the staircase, a renewed sense of alertness stirs within my wolf. I inch closer, my fingers curling around the bars of my confinement. Anticipation grips me as I anxiously await the arrival of the person descending, my senses heightened in anticipation of their identity. A part of me hopes it's him, my mate, while another part trembles at the prospect.
The rogue across from me rolls his eyes, "Pathetic."
He's right.
A mix of emotions engulfs me as my anticipation is met with both disappointment and a hint of relief. Instead of my hoped-for mate, a girl who appears to be around my age emerges at the bottom of the stairs. She's dressed in a maid's uniform, her raven hair neatly pinned back. Her Northern blue eyes, a common trait among the people I've encountered, shine with a kindness that sets her apart from the other wolves I've seen. Approaching my cell, she retrieves a key from her pocket.
"Alpha Romulus sent me to fetch you, Miss," she addresses me in a gentle voice, her demeanor matching her words. As the cell door opens, I attempt to rise, but a wave of dizziness washes over me. Freya rushes forward, her frail arm slipping around my waist to support me. Together, we hobble out of the cell, her assistance proving invaluable.
As we move, a familiar voice interrupts our departure. "Well, kid, you're getting out of here. Looks like the universe decided to cut you a break after dealing you such a shitty hand of cards," the rogue's words reach my ears, and I shoot him a scowl for his blunt observation.
"Enjoy rotting, rogue," I retort as our paths diverge.
"Enjoy ruling, Luna," his response is a mixture of mockery and truth, a declaration made without regard for the third party present. I feel Freya's arm tense around my waist at the mention of the title, her foot hesitating on the stair.
"Luna?" she questions, her voice laced with curiosity and surprise.
"My name is Luna," I lie through gritted teeth, cursing the rogue silently for putting me in this predicament.
"Strange," she mutters, her voice barely audible as we continue our ascent up the stairs. I choose to remain silent, finding solace in letting the matter drop completely. As we reach the pinnacle of the dungeon stairs, we're greeted by a pair of doors resembling those of a storm cellar. Freya raps her knuckles on one, and an armed guard stationed on the other side promptly opens it. His expression sours at the sight of me, a reaction that doesn't go unnoticed as we step into the daylight beyond.
The guard opposite him seems uninterested in my presence, his attention instead drawn to Freya. His gaze lingers on her, an interaction that speaks volumes in its subtlety.
"Freya," he acknowledges with a nod in her direction.
"Gunnar," her cheeks warm with a blush, accompanied by a small curtsy toward him.
YOU ARE READING
The Alpha King of the North
Werewolf"Cross the border before I catch you, and you're free," Romulus' frosty eyes darken as his words cut through the air. "You won't follow me past it?" I feel one eyebrow quirk upwards in disbelief as the words pass through my lips. "I can't," he grind...
