*~1986~*
Author's note: to read this, you must have gone through the prologue chapters thanks for understanding!
Katria's fingers trembled as she reached for his mask. Every muscle in her body seemed to vibrate with a mix of terror and intoxicating curiosity. As the leather pulled away, her breath seized in her lungs. She couldn't believe her eyes.
Before her stood a creature of such majestic, haunting beauty that it felt like an affront to nature. He had thick, dark eyebrows over heavy lids, long lashes that shadowed his piercing gaze, and a jawline so sculpted it looked honed from marble. His aquiline nose and perfect, heart-shaped lips made him look less like a man and more like a personification of sin. He was a devil standing on earthly ground.
He reached up, pulling a silver pin from his hair. A curtain of long, dark silk tumbled down to his shoulders, framing his face and making him look even more otherworldly. He let out a low, melodic chuckle that vibrated in the small space between them.
"I thought you were brave," he murmured, his icy blue eyes tracking the frantic pulse in her throat. "What happened to that courage you had moments ago?"
Katria tried to find her voice, but it was buried under the weight of his presence. He stepped closer, his fingers trailing through her hair as if he were memorizing the texture of a delicate flower. He leaned down, his face dipping toward the crook of her neck. He inhaled deeply, his hot breath ghosting over her skin and sending a wave of heat straight to her core.
Katria gripped the fabric of her gown, her knuckles white, just to keep herself from collapsing.
"Calm down, Katria," he whispered, his voice a dark caress. "I'm not going to eat you. I don't bite... at least, not yet."
The weight of that last phrase hung heavy in the air, but before she could decode the threat, he moved. With a sudden, fluid motion, he wound a lock of her hair around his hand and hoisted her up. He cleared a nearby table with a rough sweep of his arm, sending glasses shattering to the floor, and sat her down upon it.
He leaned in, his fingers hooking into the neckline of her gown. He pulled the fabric down just enough to expose her shoulder. As his fingertips brushed against a small, distinct birthmark near her collarbone, Katria flinched. She instinctively grabbed the silk, trying to pull it back into place.
"I thought... I thought you said we weren't doing this tonight," she stammered.
He froze. His eyes dragged slowly from her shoulder back to her face, a slow, dangerous smirk curling on his lips.
"Calm down, little lamb," he chuckled, his voice dropping an octave. "I'm not going to touch you. Not in the way you think."
His gaze returned to the mark on her skin. His finger brushed it again, lingering with an intensity that made her blood run cold. Katria tried to twist away, her hand coming up to cover the spot, but he intercepted her. He caught her wrist in a grip that was firm enough to keep her still, yet soft enough not to bruise.
His eyes were locked on the birthmark, his entire demeanor shifting from playfulness to a deadly, focused seriousness.
"This mark," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "How did you get this?"
"It's just a birthmark," Katria whispered, her voice trembling.
His expression twisted for a heartbeat before a dark, triumphant smirk spread across his face. He looked satisfied—almost hungry.
"Perfect," he murmured, licking his lips as he straightened up.
Katria's gaze was trapped. She had never seen a man half-naked before, let alone one built with such lethal, masculine grace. Every movement of his chest seemed to command the air in the room and hers. He reached for a small silver bell on the desk and rang it.
As a maid rushed into the room, he turned his back to Katria. That was when she saw it—the massive ink across his skin. It was a heavy, eerie portrait of a black wolf, its teeth bared and its eyes a piercing, vivid red. It was so detailed that the creature looked alive, its predatory gaze seemingly locked onto hers. Her heart hammered against her ribs; she could have sworn, for one impossible second, that the tattooed wolf had blinked at her.
It's just a drawing, she screamed at herself internally, even as her skin crawled.
"Take Katrielle to her room," he commanded, his voice slicing through her thoughts.
The maid bowed and gestured toward the door. As Katria struggled to slide off the high table, he stepped back toward her. He didn't help her down with a hand; instead, his finger traced that mark on her shoulder one last time, that same satisfied smirk lingering on his lips.
"Go and rest, Katrielle," he said. He used her full name, lingering on the syllables in a way no one had since her mother—certainly not her father, not before he had gone rogue and disappeared into the shadows of society. "Tomorrow, I shall get to know my wife better. But tonight, you need sleep. You have endured a rollercoaster of emotions."
Katria could only offer a numb nod. As the maid led her out, she caught one final glimpse of him. He was watching her go with the look of a man who had finally accomplished a lifelong goal.
It felt wrong. If anyone should be smiling, it was her. She had been plucked from the trenches of poverty and brought into the home of the wealthiest family in Europe. So why did he look like the one who had won the prize?
The maid led her through a long, dimly lit hallway. Every few feet, another portrait of a wolf hung on the walls—some hunting, some howling, some silent and watchful. What is this obsession with wolves? she wondered, a chill settling in her bones.
Finally, the maid stopped and pushed open a heavy oak door. Katria stepped inside and gasped. The room was magnificent, far grander than anything her stepmother or sisters had ever stepped foot in. But she was too exhausted to marvel at the gold leaf or the silk hangings.
She reached out and pressed her hand against the mattress. It was impossibly soft, a far cry from the cold, hard floors she had shared with her mother in her father's house. Without even undressing, Katria collapsed onto the bed, Letting the heavy memories of the night taking her away.