[Lior's POV—Valen House—Continuation]
'Whoever this man was… he was far too dangerous, and if I wanted to live, I would have to escape him.'
That thought was the only thing echoing inside my skull. I barely saw anything else, not the shattered door, not the splintered wood littering the floor.
Only him.
He straightened slowly, shadows clinging to his form like a second skin, and extended a hand toward me—unhurried, certain.
"Now," he murmured, silver eyes fixed on me, "I'm taking what already belongs to me. Be a good boy—and don't make this unpleasant. Come to me, little one… or I'll come to you."
My throat tightened.
I swallowed hard and forced myself to stand, legs trembling beneath me. He watched every movement with visible amusement, silver eyes tracking me like I was already caught.
I raised my hands slowly.
Very slowly.
My fingers shook as I reached toward him—and that was when I realized something that sent ice straight through my veins.
There was no one else beyond the broken door, no guards, no servants, and no knights rushing to investigate the noise.
Nothing.
Just him.
'This is my chance...'
WHOOSH—!
I shoved him with every ounce of strength I had left and ran.
"—!"
His hand missed me by inches as I bolted past him, heart slamming violently against my ribs. Behind me, his voice followed—calm, displeased, and terrifyingly controlled.
"So...troublesome."
I sprinted into the hallway.
My hallway.
The one I had walked a thousand times—now stretched long and unfamiliar, swallowed by darkness that pressed in from every side. The walls blurred as I ran, bare feet slapping against cold stone.
I didn't know what had happened to my father; I didn't know where Elara was. I didn't know what had become of the attendants, the guards, or the knights—but I knew one thing with brutal certainty:
Even if they were here, they would never help me; they would save themselves. They would leave me to be devoured by whatever this monster was.
TAP.
My breath hitched.
TAP. TAP.
Footsteps, not hurried, not frantic. Measured. Certain. The sound of someone who knew there was nowhere left to run.
"He's enjoying this," I gasped, lungs burning as I turned a corner. "He's enjoying this—"
TAP. TAP. TAP.
Closer.
I burst down the stairs, nearly tripping, gripping the railing as my legs threatened to give out.
Huff—huff—
"I have to get out," I mumbled desperately. "I have to—"
And then I saw it, the main gate, open. Moonlight spilled through it like salvation.
"There—" I whispered, hope flaring painfully in my chest. "That's it… once I'm outside—"
"Little one."
His voice drifted from behind me, too close.
I froze, and slowly, I turned.
He stood at the top of the stairs, tall and immovable, shadows curling around his shoulders. His expression was calm—almost indulgent.
"You should come back," he said mildly. "I would rather not force you."
I trembled from head to toe.
'It was just a kiss, Just one reckless, stupid kiss—so why—why am I being hunted like this?'
I turned and dashed.
DASH—! DASH—!
My feet pounded against stone as I raced toward the gate, the cold night air brushing my skin.
'Just a little more—Just—'
WHOOSH—!
Pain exploded through my arm as something iron-strong seized me, then another grip—firm at my waist.
The world lurched violently, and my feet left the ground. I gasped, a broken sound tearing from my throat as I dangled helplessly in the air, terror flooding every vein.
"No—!"
I shook uncontrollably, fingers clawing uselessly as his hold tightened—unyielding, effortless, as though resistance itself amused him. My feet dangled above the ground, bare and helpless, the cold night air brushing my skin while his grip remained terrifyingly warm.
My eyes burned. Tears blurred the world into streaks of silver and shadow as the truth crashed into me all at once.
I hadn't been running toward freedom. I had been running exactly where he wanted me to go. Behind me, against my ear, his voice lowered—satisfied, possessive, and final.
"There…" he murmured. "I found you."
My entire body trembled.
"You cannot flee from me, little one," he whispered, each word sinking in like a nail being driven slowly, deliberately. "Your fate was sealed the night your lips touched mine."
My blood ran cold.
He did not release me. Did not allow my feet to touch the ground. Instead, his grip shifted—both hands firm, unyielding—as he turned me effortlessly and pulled me into his arms, forcing me to face him.
Too close.
Far too close.
Silver eyes traced my face with unnerving patience—my trembling lips, my tear-streaked cheeks, and the fear I could no longer hide. He studied me the way one studies something rare… something already owned.
A slow smirk curved his mouth.
"So beautiful," he said softly.
The word shattered something inside me. Tears slipped free, hot and humiliating, trailing down my cheeks—but he did not look away. If anything, his expression sharpened, as though my fear pleased him.
As though my tears were proof.
"Who…" My voice broke. I swallowed hard, shaking violently. "Who are you…? Please… that was just a—"
"—A kiss?" he cut in smoothly.
His tone was almost amused.
"Reckless," he continued, eyes never leaving mine. "Unthinking. Foolish kiss?"
His fingers tightened—just slightly.
"It must be, but let me inform you, little one, once something touches a Morvael," he said quietly, "it belongs to them."
His gaze bored into mine.
"Including you."
My breath hitched violently as Morvael, the name, struck like thunder.
'No…Don't tell me—' My eyes widened in horror as realization clawed its way up my spine. 'Is he the North's infamous monster, the one who worships a demon and drinks people's blood?'
His smirk deepened, and he said softly, "That's right, exactly who you're thinking of in that little head of yours."
The moonlight caught his silver eyes as he leaned closer, his voice dropping into something intimate and merciless.
"Alaric Morvael," he murmured. "Grand Duke of the North."
The monster.
The one whispered about in terror. The one rumored to pray to demons. The one no one touched and lived.
"And now," he continued, bringing me closer still, until escape was no longer even an illusion, "heed me well, little one."
My throat tightened. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think.
"From this moment on," he said calmly, with terrible certainty, "you belong to me."
A broken sound escaped me—a hiccup, half sob, half gasp—as the truth settled deep, heavy, and inescapable. My body shook, my world narrowed, and just like that—with a single reckless kiss—I had been claimed by a monster.
***
[Later—Outside the House Valen]
The moment he carried me beyond the gates of House Valen, the night swallowed us whole.
Cold air bit into my skin, sharp and merciless, and I instinctively curled inward—only to realize there was nowhere to retreat. Beyond the gates, horses waited in a disciplined line, their dark forms steaming faintly in the moonlight. Knights stood beside them, clad in blackened armor that drank in the darkness rather than reflecting it.
And on their chests—a red wolf.
The crest was unmistakable, and my stomach dropped.
'So it was true. He wasn't just a nightmare dressed in human flesh; he is indeed Alaric Morvael.'
A man stepped forward then—huge, broad as a bear, with a scar cutting jaggedly across his jaw. His presence alone made my breath hitch. He glanced at me briefly, eyes sharp and assessing, and I shrank closer instinctively, like prey caught between predators.
He bowed deeply, saying, "My lord, I've searched the grounds. It appears every member of House Valen has fled."
I furrowed in confusion, wondering what might've happened to them.
The monster inclined his head slightly. "Then we move."
The bear man hesitated, eyes flicking back to me. "But… my lord, who is this young man in your—"
"—He is the Grand Duchess," the monster said calmly.
Silence fell.
The air itself seemed to freeze. The knights stiffened, and the scarred man's eyes widened.
"Pardon?" he blurted. "But—my lord—he's a man."
I felt myself being lifted again before I could protest and placed effortlessly onto one of the massive horses. The monster climbed behind me, his presence sealing me in before panic could fully surface.
"I am aware, and we are breaking rules." He glanced over his shoulder. "Now, bring the cloak I ordered."
The scarred man snapped out of his shock at once. "Yes, my lord."
Moments later, he returned with a heavy fur cloak—thick, dark, and unmistakably northern. The monster took it and wrapped it around me with unsettling care, cocooning me completely until only my face peeked out.
"It will be cold," he said quietly. "Make sure you're warm."
The absurdity struck me then—sharp and hysterical. I was shaking, kidnapped, and wrapped in fur like an expensive parcel.
'A very frightened… very unwilling hot dog,' my mind supplied weakly.
A hiccup escaped me before I could stop it.
The knights mounted their horses. Hooves shifted. Leather creaked. The red wolf crests gleamed faintly as the line began to move.
North.
Toward Skeldryn.
Toward the land where monsters ruled and mercy was a rumor. I clutched the fur tighter, body trembling, pressed against a man who had claimed me with a kiss and called it fate.
I did not know what would happen to me now.
I only knew—the Valen estate vanished behind us, swallowed by darkness, and I was being carried straight into the jaws of the North.