Chapter 8
Eliana POV
The electric fire of his kiss still burned on my lips, melting into the suffocating cold of a silver chain crushing my windpipe.
I jolted awake, gasping for air in the dim light of my small room in the Dowager’s Wing. Cold sweat drenched my thin nightgown. My trembling fingers flew to my collarbone, tracing the phantom ache of Jaren’s bite. It wasn't just a nightmare of my past life's execution; it was a warning.
He knew. The terrifying golden glow of his eyes in the washroom last night and that primal roar—*Mine!*—echoed in my skull. As a Wolfless, I was completely defenseless against his pureblood strength. If I didn't secure an untouchable sanctuary immediately, history would repeat itself. I needed the Dowager Luna.
Later that morning, I stood in the grand parlor, the air thick with Josephine Griffin’s aged agarwood scent. I carefully poured a steaming cup of Chamomile and Moonflower tea—a blend I knew from my past life would soothe an aging Inner Wolf.
Josephine took a sip, her stern shoulders relaxing as a soft sigh escaped her lips. "You have a delicate touch, child," she murmured.
Eileen, the Beta Head of Staff, stepped forward, handing over a parchment sealed with wax. "My Lady, a missive from the Royal Army. Lord Cedric is returning victorious."
Tears of joy welled in Josephine’s eyes. "My eldest grandson... finally coming home." She wiped her cheek, her sharp gaze suddenly pinning me. "Tell me, Eliana. Why hide in an old woman's parlor? Most maids your age would kill to serve in the young Alphas' courtyards."
I immediately dropped to my knees, keeping my head bowed in perfect Wolfless submission. "I only seek peace, My Lady. I wish to earn enough to buy healing herbs for my sick sister, Haley. Your grace is the only blessing I need."
Josephine hummed in approval. "A dutiful, quiet girl. Eileen, she stays with me permanently."
Relief washed over me, but it was short-lived.
For the next few days, I didn't dare step a single foot outside the Dowager's courtyard. I could feel him out there. The suffocating, predatory scent of dark rum and cedar lingered heavily at the edges of the gardens. Jaren was prowling, his Inner Wolf driven to a feral obsession, waiting for me to slip up.
But his patience was notoriously thin.
On the fourth afternoon, the heavy mahogany doors of the parlor slammed open. The intoxicating, violent aura of the Second Alpha Son instantly devoured the room's calm.
I froze, my fingers white-knuckling the silver tea tray.
Jaren sauntered in, throwing himself onto the velvet sofa. His golden eyes locked onto me, stripping me bare with a look so possessive it made my knees tremble.
"Grandmother," Jaren drawled, though his gaze never left my face. "My courtyard is lacking competent staff. I want this one. I'll even pay handsomely for her sister's little herbs."
Panic seized my throat. I dropped to the floor beside Josephine's chair, gripping the rough fabric of my apron. "Please, My Lady," I begged, my voice shaking with genuine terror. "Let me stay and serve you."
Josephine frowned, her Luna aura flaring to push back his oppressive scent. "Absolutely not, Jaren. A pureblood Alpha has no business obsessing over a Wolfless maid. She stays here."
The air in the room plummeted to freezing. Jaren’s jaw clenched, a muscle ticking as his beast violently rejected the denial. He stood up slowly, his massive frame casting a dark shadow over me.
As he strode past, he paused. He leaned down, his lips brushing my ear. The crushing weight of his Alpha aura pinned me to the floor as he whispered, "You can't hide behind her forever, little one... You're mine."
He walked out, leaving me trembling on the rug. The threat wasn't empty. I needed to escape this Pack entirely, and soon. But first, I had to survive the day. Eileen had just ordered me to take the mute maid, Icy, to the outer market's Moonlight Bakery to fetch the Dowager's favorite pastries, and I prayed the short trip to the Pack gates wouldn't cost me my life.
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