The Lycan King’s Treasured Luna novel Chapter 7

Narine's pov

My eyes fluttered open, and my mind was sluggish and disoriented, expecting, out of habit to be greeted by the same cracked ceiling I'd stared at every day of my miserable existence.

But instead... I found myself staring up at an intricate, breathtakingly opulent ceiling adorned with swirling designs and delicate carvings, kissed with faint golds and silvers that shimmered under soft lighting, gilded by the soft glow of a chandelier.

Confused, I blinked rapidly, my gaze darting around.

The bed beneath me was impossibly soft, like what I would imagine resting atop a cloud would be like. Sheer silk curtains, dyed a delicate blue, hung elegantly from the four corners of the massive bed, swaying gently with the breeze.

My fingers curled instinctively into the plush bedding, half-expecting it to disappear, like an illusion ready to shatter at the first touch.

Was I dead?

Was this heaven?

Or was it hell... dressed in beautiful lies?

The last thing I remembered was stumbling blindly out into the cool night air. After that... nothing.

I tried to move, but my limbs trembled violently with the effort. Slowly, painstakingly, I pushed myself into a sitting position. I paused, stared at the back of my palm and blinked in disbelief. They were pale, nearly translucent.

Gone was the caked grime, the bloody smudges, and the filth I'd worn like a second skin for years. Instead, I was dressed in a large, soft hoodie.

A raw, broken sound ripped from my throat like a garbled squeal startling me even further.

It was the first real sound I had made in what felt like a lifetime. It scared the sh*t out of even me. My hands shook violently as I stared down at them, unrecognizable.

I pressed my trembling hand to my chest, feeling the rapid, rabbit-like pace of my heart.

What was happening? Was this real?

"You're awake." A deep soothing voice broke through my panic

I flinched instinctively, snapping my gaze toward the sound.

I forgot how to breathe.

The owner of that ethereal voice was hands down the most beautiful man I've ever seen in my life. He stood towering at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed over a broad, muscular chest that strained slightly against a black fitted shirt. Our eyes met and I was struck by the contrast between his doe brown eyes and the lush, dark lashes framing them so long and thick they almost seemed painted. I let my gaze trail down his face. His nose was strong, with a slight, endearing bump at the bridge, adding character to a face that otherwise looked sculpted by the gods themselves.

And his skin... Oh god his skin seemed to glow in the soft light, like he was dipped in caramel and came out flawlessly. My gaze fell to his lips, thick, and fully sculpted lips that looked almost too soft for a man built like him.

I stared, wide-eyed, utterly entranced. I locked eyes with him again. Messy, dark curls crowned his head, and some stubborn strands fell into his forehead in the most effortlessly handsome way imaginable I wondered if it would feel as soft as it looked.

My heart thudded louder, almost painfully against my ribcage.

Something about him pulled at me.

I opened my mouth, desperate to form words, to demand answers but my lungs refused to obey. All that came out was a weak gasp.

"How are you feeling?"

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