Layla
I could barely breathe.
The corset around my ribs was too tight, laced so cruelly that every breath scraped like knives. My hair had been brushed until it felt like fire on my scalp, my bruises masked with glamours and fading enchantments that flickered every time I blinked.
They had scrubbed me raw. Painted me. Dressed me in silver silks and layered veils.
Not because I was being saved.
Because I was being sacrificed.
And I knew it.
They all did.
"You'll smile," Felissa had hissed just before I was dragged from my cell. "You'll bow. And you'll keep your mouth shut unless you want me to put a silver dagger through your mother's throat."
She meant it. They all would.
They'd made it clear.
If I embarrassed them, if I showed the Beast King even a hint of defiance or weakness, she would die. My mother, barely clinging to life as it was, would be the price for my disobedience.
The doors opened with an agonizing creak, and I was pushed forward, unable to steady my shaking limbs. My heart was hammering in my chest, each beat a thunderous reminder of how close I was to the precipice. I had no idea what would happen next, only that I was walking toward my death.
The Beast King awaited me.
And in that moment, the world seemed to slow, my thoughts fogging and spinning as I was dragged into the throne room. I barely registered the cold stone beneath my feet, or the oppressive silence of the air around me. All that mattered was him.
The Beast King.
He stood near the center of the room, tall and imposing, like a living mountain. I was drawn in by the imposing man in the room, nothing I've ever seen before he was no beast but…
His broad shoulders, encased in dark armor that seemed to shimmer with a cold, ancient power, exuded an aura of untold strength and undeniable royalty. His raven-black hair, wild and unkempt, cascaded around his face like a dark halo, giving him a feral, untamed look that only added to his terrifying presence. It was the kind of wild beauty that made one fear him even more.
His face was sharp, carved with angles so strong they looked like they belonged to a god—handsome, but not in the way that made you feel safe. No, it was the type of look that drew you in, then made you feel the weight of a thousand dangers. He radiated power.
But it was his eyes that paralyzed me.
They were not the eyes of a man. they were a piercing deep silver, intense and unblinking. His gaze locked onto me, and for a moment, I felt as though he could see every secret I kept, every wound I hid, every broken piece of me.
I froze, unable to move under the weight of his scrutiny.
My skin crawled, and I had to force myself to meet his gaze.
The air around him was thick with a palpable heat, an aura of power so consuming it made the very ground feel unstable. His presence filled the room like the weight of a storm, and every step he took toward me seemed to make the space around us grow tighter, more suffocating. The silence was deafening, and it felt as though the world was holding its breath.