Mumei's POV:
I felt him looking at me. His gaze was so intense, it was almost tangible, wrapping around me like a vice. I swallowed hard, my throat tight.
He had marked me... but why had he stopped drinking?
His legend told about him devouring souls, not blood. But perhaps the legends had been distorted through time?
Perhaps Lycans fed like the vampires of old, sustaining themselves on the life that coursed through our veins. My mind reeled as I tried to understand.
I had been so overwhelmed that I had told him to stop. However, I hadn't expected him to listen. So it surprised me when he did.
His pheromones and aura had died down significantly, as if he was consciously reining himself in, suppressing the power that had threatened to consume me only moments ago. I should have been grateful. I should have felt relieved that he had stopped. But instead, a different sensation churned in my gut—an unbearable warmth coiling low in my abdomen, spreading to my limbs like slow-burning embers. It made my skin tingle, made my breaths come quicker.
I squeezed my thighs together instinctively, but it did nothing to quell the need clawing at my insides. It was humiliating.
And he knew. I could feel it in the way his gaze burned into me.
Shock rippled through me as I felt him move. His body tensed beneath me, shifting, rising. Was he standing?
Panic flared in my chest, and I tried to push myself up, to regain some semblance of control, but my legs betrayed me. They were like sticks, unsteady, refusing to hold my weight. My balance wavered, and for a humiliating second, I felt like a newborn fawn struggling to stand.
A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest, low and knowing, before a strong arm slid beneath my thighs. The next thing I knew, I was lifted effortlessly into the air, cradled against his solid warmth.
I gasped, my fingers immediately clinging to the cool skin of his neck, feeling the strength that lay coiled beneath. His breath was steady, as if this act required no effort at all. His composure made my own breathlessness feel ridiculous.
He straightened fully, stepping out of the coffin, and the way he carried me—like I weighed nothing, like I belonged there in his arms—sent another shudder through me. Well, since he had already marked me…I guess I did belong to him now.
"Who are you?" he asked, his voice smooth, edged with curiosity.
I hesitated, biting my lip. "Does it matter?" I whispered, unsure of what answer he sought. After all….even if he was my mate for now…I was still a sacrifice waiting to be devoured.
He exhaled through his nose, "Well, we did share quite the fiery make-out session, so I assumed it was only common courtesy."
His words sent a fresh wave of heat to my cheeks, my face burning at the implication. His tone was regal, eloquent—but there was an unmistakable amusement beneath it, as if he was enjoying my embarrassment far too much.
"My name... is Mumei," I finally answered, the name falling from my lips more out of reflex than conscious decision.
But I couldn't shake the gnawing fear at the back of my mind. He hadn't devoured me—not yet. Did that mean he was planning to take his time? Was this merely the prelude to something far worse?
Then, against my better judgment, I found myself asking, "Aren't you going to go back to sleep?"
I winced at how feeble my voice sounded, but I couldn't bring myself to say what I really meant: Aren't you going to kill me?
He sighed, his breath ghosting over my temple. "After such a long nap? No, I don't think I'll be interested in sleep for at least a couple of decades."
There was a jest in his tone, but it did little to soothe the ice settling in my veins.
What?
He wasn't going to go back to sleep.
Then….according to legends…
This was bad.
The Lycan King had awakened.
Didn't the legend say that if he woke up then war and carnage would follow? Like during his rule?
And I was the fool who had woken him.
Where had I gone wrong? What had I done? My thoughts spiraled as he carried me forward, his stride steady and confident.
"Where... are we going?" I asked, hating how small my voice sounded.
He didn't stop walking as he answered, "No clue."
I frowned. "Are you... not familiar with this place?"
I felt him shake his head slightly. "It feels familiar... however, I don't recall living here before. Maybe it's because I've been sleeping for so long. A bath would be nice, though... now if only I had my servants here to fetch me some warm water."
I hesitated. Should I tell him about the voices I'd heard earlier in the tomb? The ones that had guided me to him?
Before I could decide, two deep voices cut through the dim air.
"Welcome back, Master."
Alastor froze mid-step, his grip tightening around me slightly.
"You two are still here?" His voice was laced with mild surprise, though not entirely displeased. "Haven't eroded yet?"
"No, sire. Your bedroom has been prepared long ago, and the bathroom will have everything you need," one of the voices responded.
I recognized it instantly.
The one who had urged me to follow the red thread.
His voice was raspier, higher-pitched than the second.
Alastor scoffed, shifting me in his arms slightly. "Get up. No wonder this place stinks of gargoyles."
Gargoyles?
The thought made my stomach tighten. Creatures of legend, thought to be near extinct in this galaxy. Xaenus was home to many supernatural beings, but Mira's third continent—where my pack lived—was ruled solely by the Moonbane pack. It was unheard of to encounter anything else here.
There was a grunt of ascent, followed by the sound of shifting, of heavy footsteps echoing against tiled floors. I understood then that they were leading Alastor somewhere.
The sound of a door creaking open reached my ears and then another.
"This... is the bathroom?" Alastor's tone was almost unimpressed.
"Yes, sire. We needn't fetch hot water anymore. You can have it come out of this pipe by turning the handle to the left."
A pause. Then a quiet hum of approval.
I hesitated before speaking.
"Umm... you can let me go now. I'll walk on my own... You want to bathe, right?"
He hummed again, but instead of releasing me, his gaze slid down to meet mine.
"Mumei, you said your name was?" he mused. "What does it mean?"
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry.
"It means nameless."
"Your parents named you…nameless?" He asks with clear incredulity in his voice.