Hades' Cursed Luna novel Chapter 43

Eve

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him—his face hovering over mine. Each time I drifted too far, I felt his fingers inside me, his tongue...

What had I done? The Lycan King? What had I been thinking?

I was spiraling by the time the door knocked. My heart lodged in my throat as I went to answer it. On the other side was Agnes. My pulse was jumping as I greeted her first.

"Good morning," I said, my voice shaky.

She must have detected the pheromones last night. They were always so strong. But if she had, she did not show it.

"The King invited you for dinner in the dining room," she said.

"Alright," I replied before closing the door.

There was no way I was going to face him after what happened just last night. I could still feel his hands on my skin. His lips on my...

I shook away the memories that were far too ingrained in my mind. I was not going. I could not face him.

I sat back down, the sinking feeling in my gut growing worse. I would stay in my room.

My legs were trembling beneath me; I was sure I could not stand. The room felt smaller, the air thick with regret and shame. Every time I closed my eyes, I could still feel his touch, still hear his whispered words that had left me so powerless.

I wanted to disappear, to hide from the consequences of my actions.

But then, a flicker of anger sparked inside me, cutting through the shame.

Why should I let him think he had any power over me? Why should I cower in my room, letting him believe I was too ashamed—too afraid to face him?

No.

I was stronger than this. He didn’t deserve the satisfaction of thinking he had won the round, of knowing I was hiding away, unable to meet his gaze.

The night had meant nothing to me—nothing at all. He needed to know that.

With a deep breath, I stood up, my resolve hardening.

I couldn’t stay hidden. I wouldn’t give him that victory. I would face him, look him in the eye, and show him that last night had no effect on me. That I was not the woman he thought he had conquered.

Moving to the wardrobe, I pulled out a simple but stylish black dress—something that made me feel powerful and confident. My hands shook slightly as I dressed, but I forced myself to steady them.

This was my choice. I would face him, not as a woman who was ashamed, but as a woman in control of herself.

Taking a final breath, I stepped out of my room and headed towards the elevator. Each step felt like walking through a storm, my nerves screaming at me to turn back, but I pushed through, determined.

The sound of the elevator doors closing around me echoed the rapid beating of my heart. My pulse pounded in my ears, louder with every floor we passed on the way down.

I couldn’t let him see any fear. He would never know how much I was unraveling inside.

The elevator dinged softly as it reached the dining floor. I squared my shoulders, smoothing the fabric of my dress one last time before stepping out into the hall. Every fiber of my being tensed as I approached the door, but I kept moving forward.

I wasn’t ashamed. I wasn’t afraid.

And I was going to prove it.

The door automatically opened, and I walked into the dining room.

I noticed him first at the head of the long table, dressed in his signature black suit, with cuffs embellished with silver pins. But he was not alone.

On one side was the familiar blond man, and on the other side was the green-eyed woman—Felicia Stravos. With her was a child with striking eyes.

I made my way there without letting it show how nervous I was. My back was straight, my head forward, and my movements as graceful as I could manage.

The same blond man who had pulled me out of a cell not too long ago stood and pulled a chair out for me.

"Thanks," I said as I sat.

"Good morning," I greeted out of courtesy. From the corner of my eye, I noticed the child watching me intently.

I was promptly served food that would probably taste like sawdust with the anxiety eating me alive. Despite that, I had to feign normalcy, so I took a bite.

"How was your night, Red?"