The Lycan King’s Treasured Luna novel Chapter 8

"You must still be in shock," Sargis murmured gently, as if he could read the storm raging inside me.

He shifted slightly to his left, reaching toward the nightstand.

My instincts kicked in violently, and I scrambled back, my frail body dragged against the silky sheets until my back hit the headboard with a dull thud.

Sargis immediately froze, he raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"I just wanted to hand you the plate of fruit," he murmured, nodding toward the nightstand.

Following his gaze, I spotted the bowl he spoke of brimming with bright, colorful fruits.

But they looked alien.

Everything about this felt wrong.

"Can I?" he asked.

I said nothing. Just stared at him like he was some figment of my broken imagination.

Because he had to be, didn’t he? This whole place , this bed, this room, him none of it could be real.

It had to be another hallucination. Another trick of my mind, conjured up to protect me from reality’s cruelty.

I tore my gaze away from him.

No. No more illusions..

It was time to wake up.

I curled my bony fingers, and tried to pinch myself. But there was barely enough flesh left to grip.

Desperation clawed at me.

I needed something, anything to jolt me awake. My gaze swept the room wildly until a plan formed.

If I could just fall hard enough from the bed. I’d probably wake up back in the dungeon or better still never open my eyes again forever. The though of that was comforting, I scooted slowly as much as my strength could allow me, inch by inch toward the edge of the bed.

"What are you doing?"

I turned to face him and immediately regretted it.

Because there he stood, his face so achingly beautiful it almost broke me all over again.

This wasn’t real. He wasn’t real. None of it was.

I’ve been down this rabbit hole before. Trapped in the darkness, conjuring sweet fantasies to survive the endless cold and hunger in order to keep the madness at bay.

But this… This was new. I’ll admit though, it’s was first time conjuring an Adonis.

I kept scooting.

“Hey, hey, you need to stop or you’ll fall and hurt yourself!” he called out.

I was already right at the edge. I could see it clearly now, my body slamming against the cold marble floor. A deep, welcoming darkness would swallow me whole, and I’d finally, finally be free.

Taking a steady breath, I allowed my weight to tip forward, feeling the thin air rush against my battered body as gravity pulled me down. For a fleeting second, I cherished the wisp of breeze that kissed my skin.

Warmth.

Unexpected, engulfing warmth.

Instead of the cold, merciless ground, I crashed into something solid. I found myself snuggling deeper without thought, instinctively seeking the comfort that evaded me for so long. Ah, yes, I thought deliriously. This must be death’s embrace.

But then I rubbed my face against a hard, muscled chest, and a deep, steady heartbeat thudded against my ear.

Muscles?

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