The Lycan's Hidden Flame

Elsa

Dinner was nothing like I had imagined it would be. The grand dining hall—if you could even call it that—felt more like a silent courtroom than a place where people gathered to eat. I was led in by Riley, who hadn't spoken to me much since bringing me to my room. His eyes were always watchful, always calculating. He didn't trust me, and it was clear that no one else here did either.

The pack—at least, that's what they called themselves—sat around the long table, most of them ignoring me completely. The air was thick with unspoken words, and I could feel every pair of eyes on me. They didn't want me here. And I didn't want to be here, but there was no way I could show that weakness.

Kieran sat at the head of the table, his presence as commanding as ever. His eyes flickered toward me occasionally, but there was nothing soft or comforting in his gaze. He looked more like a man lost in thought than someone who commanded the room. The other members of his pack, however, weren't as polite.

"Why's she here?" One of them, a broad-shouldered man with dark, almost black hair, sneered at me.

"She's a prisoner," Riley muttered under his breath, his tone sharp. "She's not a guest."

I narrowed my eyes at him, but he didn't even glance my way. Instead, I kept my focus on the food in front of me, trying to ignore the rising sense of discomfort in my chest. I wasn't sure what was worse—the hostile glares from everyone at the table, or the suffocating silence that pressed in on me from all sides.

The meal dragged on, the tension so thick I could almost taste it. I had no appetite, but I knew better than to refuse the food. It would only give them more reasons to resent me. So, I took a few bites, forcing them down, my thoughts racing as I wondered if there was any way out of this place.

"You don't belong here," the same man who had spoken earlier said again, his voice low but venomous.

I glanced up, meeting his eyes for a moment, and then looked away, not willing to give him the satisfaction of a response. I wasn't here to make friends. I was just trying to survive.

Dinner was finally over, and Riley, without a word, led me back to my room. The cold stone walls of the castle felt even colder now, pressing in on me with a weight I couldn't escape.

When the door closed behind me, I slumped against it, my breath ragged as I tried to steady myself. My heart was racing from the tension at dinner, and I needed to clear my head.

The room was dark now, the only light coming from the small, dim lamp on the desk. I moved to the bed, stripping off my clothes and pulling the covers up around me, hoping that sleep would come quickly. But I knew it wouldn't.

It was always the same—the nightmares.

I closed my eyes, hoping for rest, but all I saw were flashes of the cultists, their eyes hollow and cold, chanting in a language I didn't understand. Their voices reverberated in my mind, as clear as if they were standing right beside me.

"Vessel…" they whispered over and over, the word hanging in the air like a curse.

The word didn't make sense, not yet. But it felt like it was meant for me. My chest tightened, and I couldn't breathe as I heard their chanting growing louder, the sound of their footsteps echoing in the distance, drawing closer. The walls of my room seemed to close in, and the shadows around me began to shift. I tried to scream, but nothing came out. My body wouldn't obey.

"Vessel…"

I jolted awake, sitting upright in the bed, my heart racing. My skin was drenched in sweat, my breath coming in shallow, panicked gasps. I had to calm down. It was just a dream, I told myself. Just a dream. But it didn't feel like it.

I looked around the room, half expecting to see the cultists lurking in the shadows, waiting to drag me back to whatever fate they had in store for me. The room was silent, just the quiet hum of the castle around me. But the unease didn't fade. It lingered, suffocating me.

I didn't know what was real anymore.

I turned over, burying my face in the pillow, but sleep didn't come easily. I kept hearing their whispers, their chants, echoing in my ears. My mind couldn't escape them.

And then, as if on cue, I felt it—the pull.

A strange, inexplicable sensation tugged at the very core of me, pulling me from my thoughts. I felt it, deep inside me, like an invisible thread tethering me to something—or someone. My heartbeat quickened as the sensation grew stronger, more insistent. I didn't want to acknowledge it, but it was there, like a presence in the room with me.

Kieran.

I tried to ignore the thought, tried to push it away, but it was impossible. There was a connection between us, something that I couldn't explain, something primal and powerful. It made my skin prickle with awareness.

I sat up again, my chest tight, and reached for the lamp, switching it on. The room was still empty, just the faint glow of the light casting shadows along the walls. But the connection—his presence—was still there, gnawing at my senses.

I hated it.

I hated that I couldn't ignore it, that I felt drawn to him despite everything. The Lycan King. The man who had trapped me in his castle. The man who had saved me, but at the cost of my freedom.

I needed to shake this off, to forget that strange pull between us. But my mind kept wandering back to him, to his eyes, his cold voice. I hated how easily he commanded the room, how effortlessly he made everyone around him bend to his will.

I was nothing but a prisoner in this place, a pawn in whatever game Kieran Montague was playing.

But the pull…

I couldn't ignore it.

And then I heard it.

A knock at the door.

I froze, my heart pounding in my chest. Who would come to see me now?

The door creaked open slowly, and I found myself face-to-face with Riley.

"Get up," he said flatly, his tone giving nothing away. "Kieran wants to see you."

I hesitated, my throat dry. "Now?"

Riley didn't answer, just turned and walked back down the hall. I didn't have a choice. I had to follow.

I stood up, my legs shaky beneath me. I couldn't escape, couldn't run. Whatever Kieran wanted, I had to face it.

But as I walked down the cold corridors, a chill ran down my spine. I felt that pull again, stronger now, as though something inside me was screaming to be near him.

And then, as I rounded the corner, I heard his voice—the deep, commanding tone that had haunted my dreams.

"Elsa."

I stopped dead in my tracks.

There was no turning back now.