Page 34

A.L.I.S.S.A

I 'm avoiding my mate, but the floating castle has other plans.

I've opened my door six times in the last three days, and each time, I'm somehow sharing the same room as my mate. First, it sent me to the lounge, then to the kitchen, followed by the dining room, and three times to his office.

Each time, I'm frozen, just staring at him.

He isn't what I had expected at all. He is the kind of beautiful that feels unreal, like staring too long at something forbidden.

His hair is dark, falling in soft, unruly strands that frame his face in an almost deliberate disarray.

It contrasts sharply with his warm, caramel-toned skin—except for the tattoos.

They are like living shadows, intricate and dark, and threaten to consume him.

‘I hate you.’

My breath hitches, recalling those terrifying words from the last time I had opened my door.

Haze's words, the venom that spilt from her lips, felt deadly, and I was suffocating under the pressure of it.

Neither had noticed me. They seemed to be in their own world, like the rest of us didn't exist. I felt like I was intruding.

I didn't mean to stay for as long as I did. Haze stood across the room, and I saw the way her body trembled, barely perceptible but enough to betray the storm brewing beneath her polished surface.

There was something feral in her eyes—a molten rage that threatened to spill over, burning everything in its path.

Even from a distance, I could feel it; the heat of her anger, the raw power it seemed to stir around her.

It wasn't just her fury that was suffocating; it was something deeper, something primal.

It made the air in the room heavier, crackling with an unspoken tension that no one else seemed to notice but me.

And then I felt it—fear, sharp and jarring. The world tilted slightly like I was standing on unsteady ground, and my stomach churned with vertigo. I knew the feeling, knew it so well tears streamed down my face at the memory of it.

I knew it was Haze. The power she was pulling on had taken hold of my mind, dragging me back to a place I never wanted to be.

I tried to escape, I tried to run, but it was too late.

My body trembled, and the vertigo deepened.

I could feel my panic building; a terrible, suffocating dread tied to memories too deep to carry.

It hit me like a hammer—a rooftop, high and cold, the wind howling around me as my mother stood at the edge.

"Watch me," she said to me. "This is what love costs."

It all came back as if it were happening all over again. The absolute horror on my face and the helplessness I had felt rooted me to the spot as my mother stepped off the edge and disappeared into the void.

The memory cut open a wound I thought I buried, and it hurt.

I run a shaky hand through my hair, glancing at my door. I want to go out there, I really do, but I'm terrified by what I might walk into. I haven't been here a week, and my mate rejects me. I meet a Nightwalker, my Alpha almost dies, and I'm thrown into my past without warning.

And what's worse, I don't even know if my mate wants me.

Of course he doesn't; he rejected me. I can still feel the phantom ache when he did.

It was sudden, sharp, and unrelenting, like a blade slicing through my very soul.

One moment, I'm standing there, chest tight with the weight of his words, and the next, the bond between us snaps like a frayed rope pulled too tight.

And Riot; I know he felt it, too. I know he felt that soul-crushing pain, but he didn't react. It was like he was numb to it. Like being torn apart from the inside out was equivalent to the prick of a needle.

My stomach growls painfully. I can usually last quite a while without food, but it has been a week, and my fox isn't happy. She wants to be close to her mate and repair the bond; it feels so incredibly fragile since Mia healed it. That, or for me to grow a backbone and feed us.

I wrap an arm around my stomach, frowning.

To be fair, my mate isn't the entire reason I've locked myself in this room. It’s her—Haze. When I first noticed her, I remember thinking: How had I missed her?

She stood like a vision from a dream—or a nightmare—her presence so striking, it seemed to hold the world in a breathless pause. It wasn't just her face; it was her essence, the way she commanded the space around her with an effortless grace that felt both intoxicating and dangerous.

I knew she was there before I had met her gaze, but she was at the edges of my mind.

She was there, but she was so far in the back of my thoughts, I hadn't registered her presence—but how ?

She was practically a beacon that even a blind person couldn't miss.

And I realised it was intentional. She isn't meant to exist, and the realisation made my instincts scream at me to put distance between us. That she was dangerous.

But then I met her golden eyes; they shone like molten metal and locked onto me with a chilling intensity like she wasn't just seeing me, but into the depths of my soul.

I thought she was beautiful before I met those golden eyes, but tattoos appeared on her skin, winding from her hands to her shoulders in patterns both mesmerising and ancient.

The design climbed behind her ear, where they seemed to writhe beneath her white hair, encircling her hairline in delicate tendrils that meet in a sharp, symmetrical mark.

An arcane symbol of power. Her pointed ears were adorned with small, golden hoops that peaked out behind her hair.

Her beauty never vanished, but in that form, she was otherworldly.

A knock shakes me out of my thoughts, and I snap my gaze to my door. I stiffen, my muscles tense. The door creaks open with a slow, deliberate groan, and he steps through. I'm not sure who I expected, but it certainly wasn't my mate.

I inhale a sharp breath, staring wide-eyed at Riot. His dark hair falls in loose, inky waves in completely different directions, like he'd been running his hands through it for hours. His gaze connects with mine with a slight tilt of his head, stealing what little air remains in my lungs.

His eyes unnerve me. They burn red—an unnatural, smouldering shade that looks like it’s swirling constantly. I can’t look directly into them. Just a fleeting glance makes me feel as though they’re peeling away the layers of my soul. I drop my gaze to the floor, my heart pounding painfully.

Is the castle leading him to my room now? What if I was getting changed? Oh my gosh, what if I was naked?

"Come on." His voice is low, rough and deep. I can tell he’s trying to sound more approachable, but it doesn’t make a difference. "Since you've chosen to stay, you'll eat."

My cheeks burn at the demand as Riot leaves the door open; I see his dining room. My fingers fidget with the hem of my sweater as I follow him, because I don't have the courage to argue, and honestly, I don't want to.

A flicker of candlelight dances across the polished mahogany table, which stretches long and sturdy across the dining room, laden with dishes.

Bowls and platters crowd the surface, spilling over the hearty offerings—steaming vegetables glistening with butter, a golden-brown turkey surrounded by sprigs of rosemary, and loaves of crusty bread still warm from the oven.

My stomach grumbles again at the mouthwatering scents, and for a moment, I’m rooted to my position by a dining table chair.

I don't think I've ever seen such a big spread, and it's for me. I usually get by on leftovers, but not this.

I quickly take a seat as Riot sits sprawled in the chair as if it had been made to fit the effortless curve of his body as I help myself to a little from each dish. I glance nervously at my mate as I do; he isn't reaching for any of the food.

"Aren't you eating?" My voice is soft and slightly shaky. I would hate to think all this food is for me alone.

He glances at me and shakes his head, murmuring quietly, "I eat with E."

E?

"Eden," he answers, noticing my confusion.

Riot lights a cigarette between his lips before transferring the stick between his fingers. Wisps of smoke curl upward, twisting in the air like they’re in no rush to fade away, their faint smell mixing with the warm musk of leather and the distant hint of cologne.

I take a bite of my food and voice the thought that's been on my mind for the last three days. "Mia repaired the mate bond."

He blows a breath; it isn’t frustration, but it sounds weighted. "I know."

"Aren't you going to reject me… again?" I feel like I'm digging my grave, but since he hasn't rejected me yet, I have some hope.

"Breaking the bond is painful enough the first time," he tells me, staring at his cigarette as if he's lost in thought. "The first time, I was ripping off a band-aid. Doing it a second time is just cruel."

He's right; it is painful. I know if Mia wasn't there to heal the bond, I'd be passed out for hours on end, screaming in pain.

I stare down at my chicken, my words a whisper on my lips, small and fragile. "But you don't feel it."

A silence follows my words, heavy and suffocating. I sense his gaze from across the table, but don’t dare to look. "I meant you."

Reece and Mia were right. He doesn't want to hurt me; he just doesn't want to be happy. What person wakes up one morning and suddenly decides they don't want to be happy? Not that they couldn't be , but choose not to be?

I glance up, deciding I should probably ask more about our relationship, but the words are frozen on my tongue.

Riot sits in his seat, no longer relaxed.

His shoulders are unnaturally still, as if he'd been frozen mid-breath.

His sharp features, so casual before, are now carved with an intense focus as the cigarette that sat lazily between his fingers falls, forgotten, to the edge of the table.

He moves suddenly, violently, the chair scraping harshly against the floor as he shoves back from the table. The legs give way from the force and topple the chair with a heavy crack. I jump from the sound, my heart pounding as I instinctively lean back, my pulse racing at the abrupt energy.

"Find Seth and Kyrian; tell them Code Black."

His body slowly begins to fade as a faint hum rolls throughout the castle, and I stutter, "W-What's Code Black?"

His words are a low, furious growl when he says, "Nightmare."