Chapter 18 – Early Curfew
Lila
“Damon!” I froze, gripping the thin towel wrapped around me as his imposing figure filled the doorway. His sharp eyes locked onto me, and for a split second, I forgot to breathe. “Sorry, I meant ‘Your Highness‘… you, uh, you surprised me.”
The air between us grew thick and heavy. Damon didn’t move, but his gaze alone sent shivers down my spine. His eyes flicked over my bare shoulders, then down to my towel–clad body. His expression darkened.
“My clothes,” I started, my voice unsteady with nerves, “someone took them.”
Damon’s jaw tightened. A muscle ticked in his cheek, but he said nothing.
A cold draft swept through the room, prickling against my damp skin. Instinctively, I huddled into myself, my fingers clutching the edges of the towel.
Damon’s eyes narrowed slightly before he let out a slow, almost exasperated breath. Then, without hesitation, he reached for the hem of his shirt and tugged it over his head.
I forgot how to speak.
Every flex and ripple of his muscles was bare in front of me, the broad expanse of his chest illuminated by the dim palace lights. My breath hitched. He was perfect; every sculpted inch of him exuding raw power.
Heat crawled up my neck.
“Put this on,” he said, his voice rough and firm as he handed me the warm fabric.
I hesitated, still stuck on the fact that Damon had just stripped in front of me like it was nothing. Then I realized I was standing in nothing but a towel, and my fingers moved on their own, quickly accepting the garment.
The fabric was soft and carried his delicious scent, exactly as I remembered it. My pulse fluttered as I turned away and hurried back into the bathroom to change.
His shirt was huge on me.
The hem fell mid–thigh, the sleeves too long, swallowing my hands. I tugged at the neckline, but there was no fixing the way it draped over me, the scent of him clinging to my skin.
I took a steadying breath before stepping out.
Damon was still there, standing with his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze swept over me the moment I emerged, and something in his expression shifted.
His eyes darkened to a stormy shade and I felt the heat of his stare like a brand against my bare legs. My breath stuttered. “I, um… I need to go back now,” I muttered hastily.
Damon’s head tilted slightly, his lips curling up into the hint of a smirk. Then, before I could take a step, he reached out. Two fingers tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. Much like the first time, but gentler.
“It’s not curfew yet,” he murmured.
My pulse hammered against my ribs.
“It doesn’t matter,” I whispered, resisting the urge to pull away. “This whole situation was a stupid prank. Someone –” I gestured vaguely at my missing clothes, “– took my clothes on purpose.”
Damon’s expression darkened further. His fingers grazed along my jaw as they left my chin.
“I’ll find out who did it,” he said simply.
I frowned. “It’s not that serious.”
“It is.” His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. Something about the way he said it my teeth on edge. He would look into this, but not the hair pin incident? Once again, my mouth spoke before my mind could shut it down.
“The first time we met,” I muttered, “when I ran into you, you got angry because of the pin in my hair. But that was a set up too.”
Damon’s brow furrowed, his gaze locking onto mine. For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then, to my surprise, his expression shifted–just slightly. He seemed to consider something before nodding, as if confirming a silent decision. “I’ll investigate both,” he said. “I won’t allow any Successfully unlocked!
His palace. His rules.
kinds of games.”
I swallowed hard, having forgotten for a second who I was talking to. But my curiosity got the better of me.
I glanced up at him, biting my lip before finally asking, “That hairpin… Who did it belong to?”
1/2
Chapter 18 – Early Curfew
Damon’s jaw twitched.
“It’s important to you, isn’t it?” I added, watching the way his expression tightened.
I thought he wouldn’t answer, but after an agonizing stretch, he spoke more to himself then to me. “It’s… a memory,” he said finally, his tone quieter than before. “A precious one. And I won’t allow anyone to defile those memories.”
Something about the way he said it made my chest tighten and I didn’t press further.
Instead, I forced myself to breathe, shifting the conversation. “You’ve been watching the training,” I murmured. “Is it what you expected?”
Damon studied me for a long moment. “You’ve been pushing yourself,” he said. “More than the others.”
“I have to.”
He narrowed his eyes. “To win?”
“Yes,” I said without hesitation.
Damon’s eyebrow rose as though he didn’t believe me. Or maybe he didn’t like my answer. “You told me before that you didn’t want to be chosen,” he murmured.
I hesitated, my fingers tightening in the fabric of his oversized shirt. “I changed my mind,” I lied.
His eyes traced over me–lingering, unreadable. Damon stepped closer, and suddenly, the space between us felt unbearably small. More of his scent wrapped around me, making my pulse flutter.
His fingers brushed the hem of his shirt where it hung loose against my thigh. Barely a touch, but I felt it everywhere.
“If there was no combat training tomorrow,” he asked, “would you still come?”
I blinked. “What?” I swallowed, my skin burning where his gaze lingered.
“If there was no fight,” he repeated, “would you still come?”
My lips parted, words failing me for a second. Then, finally, I nodded. “Yes, I would.”
Damon reached up, tucking a damp strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered against my cheek, a whisper of warmth.
His eyes searched mine and I had the sudden, dangerous feeling that he could see right through me. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, a wild, unsteady rhythm.
Then, as quickly as it had happened, he pulled away. The space between us stretched, and the air grew colder without his body heat.
“Go,” he said, his voice quieter now, but firm. “Before curfew.”
I nodded, my throat too tight to speak, and turned toward the exit, hyper–aware of the oversized shirt draped over me, of the scent of him clinging to my skin.
By the time I returned to the dorm, it was late.
Thankfully, no one seemed to notice the oversized shirt I was wearing; not that I would have explained if they had. I slipped inside my room quietly, carefully folding Damon’s clothes and setting them aside.
I barely remembered climbing into bed. Sleep pulled me under quickly, exhaustion taking over. But the moment my eyes cracked open the next morning, something felt… off.
I frowned, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I reached for the small slip of paper on my nightstand. The lot I had drawn yesterday that determined my opponent in the combat selection.
I unfolded it absently, still groggy and stared at the paper, my stomach twisting violently.
No. I blinked, my fingers tightening around the slip.
The name had changed. Instead of the quiet girl I had been assigned to fight, the lot now bore a different mark.
The Lycan King’s insignia.
My hands trembled. This wasn’t possible. My chest tightened as I read and reread the name, disbelief flooding through me.
Someone had switched it while I slept. And I was going to have to fight Damon.
