Delilah's Pov

*Two Years Later*

"You shouldn't go back to Velmora. You don't belong there anymore," Reyna said, arms folded as she stood in the doorway, her eyes filled with concern.

I tightened the straps of my satchel, the weight of my decision heavier than anything inside it. "I know," I replied calmly, "but that's exactly why I have to go. Everyone thinks I'm dead... and yet, they contacted me."

"You can politely decline," Reyna argued. Her voice was sharp, but it trembled.

I turned to her, offering a faint smile. "No, Reyna. I can't. I have to get my revenge... for what Caleb and Islode did to me."

Reyna scoffed. "And how exactly do you plan to do that? You'll just walk back into Velmora like some ghost from the past?"

"You'll see," I whispered, stepping closer to her. "You'll hear of it. Just know... I plan to have his father under my clothes before anyone even realizes who I really am."

She blinked. "Crashed out," she muttered. "You're mad."

Maybe I was. But revenge had a strange way of keeping a person alive.

Reyna was the one who took me in when I first arrived in Nytheria, bloodied, betrayed, and broken. She was a healer too, one of the best and under her guidance, I had bloomed. She gave me strength. She gave me purpose. And now I was one of the most respected healers in Nytheria.

They didn't know it was me. They didn't know the one they cast out, the one they tried to kill, had survived and thrived. Malric Vane, Caleb's father, the elusive lycan who rarely showed himself was sick. And now, they wanted me to heal him.

"I can't change my mind now," I said softly. "I'm already packed. We've been planning this for days. They're expecting me. The trip is long and unlike you wolves, I can't run across mountains."

"Take care of yourself," Reyna said, pulling me into a hug, the kind that lingered like the scent of lavender on an old scarf. "You better come back in one piece."

"I will," I promised, even though neither of us truly believed it.

****

Outside, the early morning mist curled around the edges of the carriage. Warriors...silent and expressionless, carried my luggage with caution. I stepped in, letting the soft velvet seat catch my weight, and the carriage lurched forward.

The journey was long. Grueling, even. I slept in stretches, waking only when the cart stopped to change horses or let the escorts rest. In those quiet moments, I thought. I imagined what it would be like to see them again. Caleb. Islode. Seraphine. I pictured their faces, their shock.

I'd haunt them without even lifting a finger.

Three days passed in a haze of sleep, maps, and quiet planning.

And then, finally, Velmora.

I knew where to go. They'd given precise directions, Malric's castle. The lonely, ancient fortress where he lived like a shadow among men, away from the rest of the pack. Of course he would be sick. Loneliness has a way of rotting the body from the inside out.

As we neared the blackened gates, I saw them.

Men dressed in the crest of the Vane lineage waiting. Their stances were stiff, their faces unreadable. They didn't know me. They didn't recognize the woman they once turned their backs on.

Perfect.

The carriage came to a slow halt. I stepped out, heels clicking against the stone path, posture graceful, gaze steady. Their eyes followed my every move.

They bowed.

"We've been expecting you."

"I've been expecting to be here too," I said, lips slightly curled as I stepped forward.

Without another word, they turned, and I followed.

The hallway opened up into a grand, towering mansion, its ceiling stretched high enough to vanish into shadows, and its width... gods. It could house a thousand souls with room to spare. And yet, one man chose to live here... alone. Power hummed in the walls. You could feel it in the air, dense and old, like something sacred had been sealed within.

We climbed a sweeping staircase, silent except for the tap of boots against marble. At the top, two pack members tall, rough-edged statued men were carved before a grand set of doors carved with ancient runes. The handles were black metal, etched with vines and moons.

"He's inside," one of them said quietly. "Please... take care of him. One of us will accompany you in-"

"No need," I cut in smoothly. "When I'm done, I'll come out."

They hesitated but then nodded. They knew what that tone meant. I was in charge now.

They stepped aside, moving to the far wall like obedient statues. I took a breath and opened the door.

The moment I stepped in, the world shifted.

The room was vast, larger than most village halls I'd seen and dimly lit with a soft, golden glow from lanterns carved into the stone. And there, in the center of a bed large enough for three, lay the most beautiful man I had ever seen.

Malric Vane.

Even in sickness, he looked like he had been carved from moonlight and wrath. His chest rose and fell in slow, steady breaths. His dark, silver-touched hair spilled over the pillows, and his features were sharp. He had the kind of beauty that made you forget why you came. The kind that could burn you alive if you got too close.

I walked toward him, slow, graceful steps.

Gods, he looked like the moon had sent him down herself. And maybe she had.

I let my fingers trail down his arm, then across the edge of his jaw. His skin was warm. He stirred slightly but didn't open his eyes.

"You are just the right thing I've been expecting," I whispered.

I moved to the side, pulling out my tools, my journal, and my vials. Just enough to make this look professional. I sat down beside the bed, opening my thighs just slightly as I settled the book on my lap, pretending to write, pretending to study his pulse.

But my eyes drifted. Traitors that they were, they found him. Found it.

My gaze slid down his body.

His cock.

Gods. Just the tool for my revenge.

I smiled-slow, sultry, full of quiet promise.

Then I stood, gathered my things like nothing had happened, and walked out of the room.

As soon as I stepped into the hall, the guards straightened.

"Well?" one asked. "Is anything... going to happen?"

"He'll heal," I replied, keeping my voice smooth, unreadable. "But it will take time. I need to remain close. I'll be staying here until he fully recovers."

They exchanged glances and nodded respectfully.

One of them gave a small bow. "Delilah, you're free to stay as long as you please."

Delilah's Pov

It's been Six days.

Six long, quiet, uneventful days of him lying still pale, lifeless, and unmoving, yet somehow the most powerful presence in this entire house. Malric. The Supreme Alpha. The sleeping lycan king.

And me? I've been treated like royalty. No one dares question who I am or why I'm here. They call me "healer," but I see the way they lower their heads when I pass. As if they can feel it. The power humming beneath my skin. The kind that only comes from being broken, banished, and reborn.

No one's mentioned Caleb.

No one's even looked at me like I was once the Luna of Velmora.

Which leads me to two conclusions: either these people are entirely new... or they've truly forgotten. Either way, it plays perfectly into my hands.

But one hasn't forgotten.

Seraphine.

She comes. Not every day, but often enough to make me wonder. She never lingers, never greets me with warmth or suspicion. Just silence and those ever-glowing eyes.

So when I saw her again today, walking up the hallway toward Malric's room, I didn't hesitate.

"Seraphine."

She paused, slowly turning to me like she'd been expecting it.

I stepped forward. "Why haven't you told Caleb and his warriors I'm here? Why haven't they come for me yet?"

She looked at me without flinching. "Because there's no need."

"No need?" I repeated.

"When you revive him, you'll leave. There's no point in causing alarm."

I stared at her, frowning. "So you haven't told anyone?"

She shook her head. "Unless one of the guards recognized you, which they haven't... no one knows you're here."

A silence stretched between us. I didn't trust her-not entirely. Her calm unnerved me, the way she always seemed to know more than she was saying.

"And why do you keep coming here?" I asked. "Why him? Why Malric?"

"Because he's the Supreme Alpha. A lycan," she replied. "It is my duty to check on him."

I didn't believe her. Not completely. There was something else behind her eyes, something unreadable. But I didn't press it. Not yet.

Instead, I turned away and went back to my little workstation. A few bottles, my mortar and pestle, and the last set of herbs I'd been preparing for days. This was it. The final tonic. The one that would pull him from the shadows and back into the land of the living.

It smelled sharp, bitter, and warm.

Perfect.

By the time I returned to Malric's room, Seraphine was gone. As always, like a ghost there, then not.

I walked over to him. His chest still rose and fell softly. But the color had returned to his skin, subtly. His lips weren't as pale. He was close. So close.

I sat beside him, lifted his head gently, and poured the tonic down his throat. He swallowed automatically. His body recognized what it needed, even in sleep.

And as I looked at him, so powerful even in stillness, I whispered, "Come back to me. Your story isn't over yet. And neither is mine."

Then I stood, smoothing down my gown, and left the room.

I didn't go far.

As I wandered through the halls quiet as breath I found it. A room just across from his. Not directly, but angled in such a way that when his door opened even slightly, and this one remained cracked, he'd see. All of it.

The bathtub inside was massive, carved from marble, filled by a slow stream of warm water. The light in the room was soft, kissed by the afternoon sun. It was perfect. Perfect for the start of everything.

I walked in.

Closed the door behind me, but not all the way.

And then, slowly, I slipped my dress off my shoulders, letting the fabric fall like silk to the floor. Piece by piece, I undressed bare to the light, bare to the revenge I was about to unleash.

His son had taken everything from me.

His father? Would give it back.

I sank into the warmth of the bath, sighing as it cradled my skin like silk. The light from the nearby lanterns flickered softly on the water, casting golden reflections over the marble walls. 

My chest was bare to the cool air, and I didn't care. In fact, I welcomed the sensation, because this was part of the plan.

Earlier, I had asked for this bath to be prepared. I'd told them it was to rest. To soak and recover from my long herb preparations. They didn't ask questions.

I reached for the glass of wine that sat on the edge of the tub asI let my head fall back, my hair cascading down my back, the ends dipping into the water. I could feel the strands floating around me, like seaweed in a gentle current.

I began to play with the water, my hands skimming the surface, creating little ripples that danced and shimmered. I scooped up a handful and let it trickle down over my shoulders, the droplets tracing paths down my skin. 

I could feel the heat of the water contrasting with the cooler air, sending little shivers of pleasure through me. I did it again, this time letting the water run down my chest, watching as it beaded and rolled over my breasts.

I heard the sound of a door opening, the distinct creak of hinges that I had come to recognize. Malric's door. My lips curled into a smile as I heard the footsteps, one, two, just as I had expected. I knew he would wake in few minutes, and then I arched my back, lifting my bare body up slightly, still deep in the water but now exposed, my breasts breaking the surface.

I started to play with the water on my breasts, cupping them and letting the water spill over, watching as it dripped from my hardened nipples. I could feel eyes on me, watching me, and I resisted the urge to look. I didn't want to spoil the fun, not yet. I wanted to draw this out, to make him watch, to make him want.

I let my hand trail down my body, over the curve of my waist, the flare of my hips, until I reached the heat between my thighs. I could feel myself getting wet, and not just from the water. I let out a soft moan as my fingers found my clit, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through me. I began to circle it, slowly at first, then faster, my breath coming in short gasps.

I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, could almost hear the hitch in his breath as he watched me touch myself. I let my head fall back again, my hair swirling in the water around me, my body arching as I pleasured myself. I was so close, so close to the edge, and I knew he was watching.

I slowed my movements, my fingers barely grazing my clit, teasing myself, 

I tipped my head to the side, eyes still closed.

I knew he was still there.

Still, I didn't look. Not yet. Not until I felt the crescendo of my own moment, rising and falling like a breathless wave crashing inside me. My body trembled with the release.

Only then... I turned.

And when I did, my eyes met a pair of cold, familiar grey ones watching me from the barely cracked door. Eyes that widened... and vanished.

Gone.

Like they had never been there.

Delilah's Pov 

After I finished taking my bath, I wrapped the towel tighter around my body and stepped out into the bedroom, water dripping off my skin like quiet whispers against the floor. The room was still dim, the curtains filtering in only a little sunlight, but it was enough.

I took my time getting dressed, I wore simple clothes that hugged my body just enough. My hair was still damp as I combed through it, letting the strands fall naturally. My fingers lingered on the comb longer than necessary, my mind slipping back to what had happened earlier.

Those eyes. I knew those eyes. I would never not know them, not in a million lifetimes. It was Malric. I was sure of it.

And now, for the first time since I'd arrived in this strange pack, he was awake.

I smoothed my hands over my clothes one last time and stepped out of the room, walking through the stone corridors that still felt too grand and too cold. My feet were light, but my heart was loud.

As I turned the corner, I saw one of the pack maids and called out softly, "Excuse me, do you know where Alpha Malric is?"

The girl gave a polite nod. "At the dining hall, my lady. He's having breakfast."

I hummed a quick thanks and made my way there.

And there he was.

Sitting at the head of the long, intimidating table like a damn king. His presence alone sent a shiver crawling up my spine-but I didn't let it show.

I walked in, head held high, my heels barely making a sound. I chose a seat two places away from him, close enough to be heard, far enough to keep the illusion of casual.

He didn't acknowledge me at first. Just continued eating like I didn't exist.

So I leaned back and said softly, "I see you're getting better."

He turned his head slowly, eyes piercing, voice cold. "And who are you?"

A smile curled on my lips, unfazed. "I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself properly. I'm Delilah Elaris, a healer. The one who pulled you out of whatever hell you were in. And now here you are, eating without even a thank you."

I tilted my head toward the plate in front of him. "Though I'd advise against that particular dish. Your body's still recovering. Eat that"-I pointed to a different bowl-"it'll help your strength return faster."

He scoffed, eyes narrowing slightly. "And who are you to tell me what to eat?"

My smile didn't falter. "At this point, I have to tell you what to do. Because if you don't listen, you'll end up right back in that bed, half-dead and miserable. Unless that's what you want?"

I stood slowly, took a bite from a piece of bread on the table just enough to make a statement-and looked him straight in the eyes. "Finish eating. I'll be waiting for you in your room. I need to check you."

And with that, I turned around, not giving him the satisfaction of a backward glance.

His eyes followed me. I could feel it.

My plan was working.

I walked back to his room, calm, composed, and slid into the chair beside his massive bed. Crossing one leg over the other, I leaned back, arms folded... and waited.

****

I waited in silence, my eyes drifting toward the heavy grand door, half-expecting it to stay shut forever. But then, with a slow, agonizing creak, it opened.

Malric stepped out.

My breath caught. The way he filled the space with his presence, tall and commanding, like a god carved from obsidian and midnight. Every step he took echoed authority. 

He walked past me without a word, settling onto the edge of the bed. Then, he just... stared. Not blinking. Not speaking. Just watching me like I was some riddle he didn't want to solve.

"What do you want?" he asked finally, his voice deep, gravelly, like thunder rumbling in a bottle. "And what are you doing here?"

I stood, brushing imaginary dust from my robe, even though I knew his gaze hadn't left my body since I entered. "As I said before, I came to check how you're improving. If you'll let me."

He said nothing.

So, I took that as a yes.

Crossing the room, I reached for his wrist, my fingers curling gently around it. His skin was warm... stronger than before. I held his pulse, counted in silence, then lifted his chin to examine his eyes.

Still pale.

I leaned in again to double-check his eyes, but this time, I got closer. 

My chest brushed against his face.

He stiffened instantly. "What do you think you're doing?" His voice was taut, dangerous.

I smiled, tilting my head. "The exact thing you're thinking I'm doing." I stepped back slightly, teasing, taunting. "You saw me."

His brow furrowed. "Saw you where?"

I let the silence throb for a moment.

"Having a bath."

It was like striking a match.

In one swift movement, he was on his feet, gripping me by the neck and pinning me to the wall. His fingers were rough, tight but not crushing. Just enough to remind me who he was.

"How dare you accuse me of that?" he growled.

But I didn't flinch. I didn't even blink.

I looked him right in the eye, my voice sweet as poison. "Acting angry about what you actually did? That's cute."

A long second passed between us.

Then he let go abruptly, as if touching me burned.

I fixed my hair like nothing had happened, my smirk lingering as I walked past him.

"See you soon, Malric," I murmured. "Try not to miss me."