The wet scent of damp cave filled her nostrils. The familiar wooden smell surprised her. A lucid dream? she wondered.
A surge of pleasure hit her suddenly. She let out a gasp. Her fingers clenched tightly on the soft grass, digging into the ground while her back arched off it.
She moaned again when she felt something slither deeper inside her. Heat pooled between her legs. Her face flushed with raw pleasure.
She raised her head, confused, only to see a silhouette of dark, bountiful hair revealing a powerful male form.
"Lucien…" The name slipped uncontrollably from her mouth. Her hands found their way into those thick strands, pulling him closer.
The silhouette drew himself over her body. His tongue traced a slow, wicked path upward. He captured her nipple between his teeth, nibbling just hard enough to earn another broken gasp from her.
His hands grazed her neckline, then brushed over her eyebrows. His face drew closer, blanking her mind.
Those eyes!!
The same violet eyes that once screamed madness now glowed with warm hunger. His beautiful face hovered so close she could make out every sharp, devastating feature. The corner of his lips lifted, revealing the glint of fangs.
"You're mine… Hazel," he whispered, voice velvet and sin. "You always have been."
Hazel jolted awake, heart pounding.
It had been three months now, yet he still haunted her dreams every night. She sighed, feeling the dampness on her bedsheet. Having a wet dream about a stranger was just crazy.
She walked to the stool beside her bed and splashed her face with the warm water already prepared.
Moving to the mirror, she watched her golden hair reflect the golden glow of the evening sun. She flinched at the memory of those purple eyes.
Madman!! she cursed again. Her hazel eyes glowed with frustration.
She had to proceed with the plan tonight. After weeks of scouting and blending into the city, everything was finally in place.
"Your Highness, Sir Dorian is already here," Simon's voice called from behind the door.
"Give me a few minutes."
Simon walked away, already calculating whether today's operation could actually succeed. Their chances were slim, but he knew Her Highness would take the risk anyway.
Downstairs, a brown-haired man in his late thirties waited. Well-dressed, clearly noble-born. He greeted Simon with a polite nod.
"Please have a seat, sir," Simon said. "Miss Hazel will be down in a minute."
"Alright, Simon." Dorian took the couch, crossing his legs while observing the red-eyed knight who never left the "Miss's" side.
"I've always wondered… what's your relationship with Miss Hazel, Simon?" he asked casually. "Some secret lover of hers? Don't worry, I can tell she's no ordinary miss."
No reply.
Dorian smirked. "Relax. I'm not your enemy tonight."
Simon glanced at him. Bloodlust flashed in his crimson eyes. The room thickened with tension as the two men locked gazes.
"She's here," Simon said, breaking the stare.
Dorian looked up and smiled, surprised. She really looked astonishing tonight.
Hazel descended the stairs with elegant grace, dressed in a black gown that revealed her bare neck adorned with gold, perfectly matching her hazel eyes. Her blonde hair stood in sharp, captivating contrast to the dark fabric.
"It's time, Simon. Let's proceed as planned."
She nodded, pleased with Sir Dorian's choice of escort.
He extended his hand. She ignored it completely and walked outside to the waiting carriage.
Dorian smiled, running a hand through his hair as he let out a quiet sigh. He followed and climbed in after her.
Her lustrous golden hair spilled across the seat opposite him. She gazed out the window, eyes distant.
He wondered what was going through her head right now. They had never talked much. Her existence was a mystery, but knowing how impossible tonight's mission was — assassinating the Lord of the City — they would need someone truly extraordinary to succeed.
The carriage lurched forward into the night.