A threat? Or a warning?

TALIA'S POV

Talk about a dramatic icebreaker! There I was, minding my own business—or so I thought—when suddenly, I found myself in a live-action medieval drama. And who should star alongside me but the same handsome stranger who had earlier insulted my name? Only this time, instead of hurling insults, he was wielding a sword! Yes, you read that right.

And let me tell you, that sword wasn't just for show — it was sharper than my wit on a Monday morning. Before I could say, “Is this a Renaissance fair gone wrong?” The blade sliced through the air with precision and plunged into my chest.

Talk about cutting straight to the heart of the matter.

Agony, sharp and unrelenting, erupted within me like a torrent of fire, searing through my veins and engulfing my senses. I gasped for air, my sense of humor deserting me, the metallic tang of blood flooding my mouth as I staggered backward, my mind struggling to grasp the reason for his actions. Why? Why would he do this?

As consciousness ebbed away, all I could think was that I didn't want to die like this. Not here, not today.

***

Slowly, my eyelids fluttered open, and I winced at the pain coursing through me. “She's awake,” a voice murmured in the background.

I was alive. But how? I had been stabbed, the pain vivid and raw, yet now I felt nothing. I reached for my chest, expecting to find a wound, but there was nothing. No injury, no scar.

My gaze settled on the handsome man who had attacked me. It wasn't a dream. I was certain of that.

“What have you done to me? How am I still alive after you stabbed me? And what's your deal with me? Do you go about plunging swords into people's chests?" I demanded, my voice steady despite the confusion and fear swirling within me.

“It was a test. I had to be certain you weren't one of those shape-shifters,” the handsome man explained, his tone serious, but his words sounded like something out of a poorly scripted action movie. I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the absurdity of it all.

“Ah, yes, because stabbing people is the best way to check for shape-shifting abilities,” I replied, unable to contain a sarcastic quip. “Next time, maybe try asking for a birth certificate instead?”

The man's expression shifted, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes despite his attempts to maintain his composure. “There are things bigger than you, Talia,” he said, but I could sense a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

I couldn't help but chuckle at his response. “Fair point,” I admitted, “But, stabbing someone? That's not exactly what I'd call a conventional icebreaker.”

As he turned to leave, I couldn't resist one last jab. “Oh, and next time you want to test someone's superpowers, maybe consider a less stabby approach. Just a suggestion!”

“Talia, have you ever met a Lycan wolf?” Damien's voice was calm, but there was an intensity in his gaze that made me uneasy. I scoffed, feeling a mix of irritation and amusement. Here we go with the stupid questions again.

“Stupid question? Is that what you think I ask?” Damien's eyes sparkled with amusement, catching me off guard. How could a human possibly know what I was thinking everytime?

“What makes you think I'm human?” Damien's question sent a shiver down my spine as I shifted uncomfortably on the bed. Did he just… read my mind?

“Stop reading my thoughts, damn it!” I snapped, my frustration boiling over as Damien's gaze remained unfazed.

“My name is Damien, alpha Damien. Quit calling me 'the man,' it's annoying,” he continued, his tone firm but tinged with amusement.

“How are you reading my thoughts, and why are you so annoying?” I demanded, my brow furrowing confused as Damien's presence loomed over me.

Damien ignored my question, his attention fixated on something behind me. “What's that on your neck?” he asked, his voice suddenly sharp as he moved closer.

“What?” I instinctively covered my neck, feeling exposed and vulnerable under his scrutiny.

Damien gently pushed my hands aside, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through me as he examined the mark on my neck. His expression shifted, a mixture of concern and disbelief clouding his features.

“Who are you? And the gash on your neck. Where did you get it from?” Damien's questions came fast and sharp, his eyes searching mine for answers.

“The mark? It's from elementary school. I got into a fight with a girl, and she tore me with a compass,” I explained, feeling a pang of embarrassment at the memory.

“The dots close to it looks like bite marks,” Damien murmured, his brow furrowing confused as he traced the scar with his fingers.

“They've always been there since I was born. What's wrong with it?” I asked, feeling self-conscious under his scrutiny.

“This can't be possible,” Damien muttered, his voice barely a whisper as he stumbled back towards the door, his expression unreadable.

As Damien left, a whirlwind of emotions swept over me. What was that about?

I paced the room, trying to make sense of Damien's cryptic behavior, but a sharp knock on the door jolted me from my thoughts. I turned quickly, my heart racing with apprehension, as the door creaked open to reveal a woman standing in the doorway.

She was dressed in an elegant, flowing dress that seemed straight out of a '90s royal fashion catalog, and I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at her outdated attire. Was this woman supposed to be Damien's wife? I wondered, silently waiting for her to explain her presence.

But instead of introducing herself, the woman simply eyed me up and down, her gaze lingering a little too long for comfort. Irritation prickled at my nerves as I met her stare head-on.

“What are you staring at? Never seen a human girl before, huh? Must be a real shocker for you, since you all seem to be a bunch of weirdos,” I quipped, unable to resist poking fun at her outdated fashion sense.

The woman's lips curved into a faint smile, but she said nothing, her silence only adding to my growing frustration.

“They were right about how feisty you are,” she finally spoke, her voice calm and measured. “Damien doesn't like his pet blonde. You won't last long.”

My eyes narrowed in irritation at her condescending tone. “Pet? Excuse me? If you call me a pet one more time, I'll be pulling out your hair and shoving it down your throat,” I retorted, my patience wearing thin.

But the woman seemed unfazed by my threat, her gaze steady as she continued to appraise me. “You should mind how you speak to me, little human. If you think Damien wants you, you're sorely mistaken.”

Her words sent a surge of anger coursing through me, but before I could respond, she walked toward me, her heels clicking against the floor. Seriously, who wears stilettos indoors?

“Like I want a weirdo,” I scoffed, masking my unease with humor. “You can keep your mind-reading demon to yourself. For your information, I'm only here against my will, and when I get out of here, I'm bringing the police to raid this crime scene.”

To my surprise, the woman laughed, her amusement ringing through the room. “Someone who's homeless, with no family, has been in an asylum for two years, and whose fiancé is married to her best friend? You should be thanking Damien for letting you stay here.”

My breath caught in my throat. How could she know me so well? Where did this woman get all this information from?

“Don't get too attached to Damien,” she warned, her tone laced with trump as she flaunted her ring. The words hung in the air, a puzzle piece in a game I hadn't realized I was playing. But why would I? Damien wasn't even on my radar… or was he?

“Why would I get attached to him?” I asked, my voice tinged with skepticism. There was a knowing glint in her eyes that sent shivers down my spine, like she held secrets I wasn't supposed to know.

“Well, you wouldn't be the first human he's picked interest in. The last one, she died,” the lady remarked, her red-painted lips curling into a half-smirk as she turned to leave. Her words hung in the air like a dark omen, casting a shadow over the room. Was that a threat? Or a warning?