Chapter 32 The Beast Beneath the Skin
32\. The Beast Beneath the Skin
Dinner at Dravenmoor had never been quiet, but tonight it felt like the silence was the only guest at the table.
Lucian sat at the head, posture straight as a blade, his silver eyes fixed on the untouched meal before him. The rest of the dining hall was drowned in shadow lit only by the restless flicker of candles that reflected off his armor. Even Elijah he becomes Lucian underling by the way who usually filled the air with his dry humor, kept his mouth shut. This must be because of the recent clamour in the center city of Halecrest where a lot of people are now distrustful with the court upholding justice. People think they had a mad king. Based on what I heard from Lady Caine she replaced Lady Merille after Lucian took them out of court for treason. Last day, public execution happened that stirred Halecrest.
The tension was that thick kind of quiet like the pause before a storm, or before someone says “we need to talk.”
I stabbed at the roasted meat on my plate. “Okay, this is officially the worst date I’ve ever been on.”
Elijah nearly choked on his wine.
Lucian didn’t look up. “You’re not on a date, my lady.”
“Sure feels like one,” I muttered. “There’s food. Awkward silence. A brooding man ignoring me. Classic checklist.”
For a moment, the corner of his mouth twitched so faint I almost missed it. Almost.
Then he dropped his utensils. The sound echoed like a sword hitting marble.
“Leave us,” Lucian said.
The servants scurried out immediately. Elijah hesitated, gaze flicking between us like someone watching a lit fuse. But when Lucian’s eyes began to glow faintly silver bleeding into white he obeyed and closed the door behind him.
Now it was just me, the table, and the man who looked like he was about to either kiss me or destroy the world.
He was at the head of the table, half-shadowed, half-devoured by the silver glow crawling beneath his skin. It wasn’t supposed to be visible, that light those thin veins of moonfire that slithered across his neck and down his arms.
But tonight, they pulsed like veins of molten metal, alive and restless.
I pushed my half-empty plate away and cleared my throat. “You know, for someone like a villain, you eat suspiciously like a bored househusband.”
He didn’t look up. “Be grateful I can still use cutlery.”
“Noted. I’d hate to explain to the servants why the Alpha King decided to chew silverware.”
He finally lifted his gaze. And for a second just one it wasn’t Lucian looking back at me. The reflection in his eyes didn’t match his movement. A delay, a ripple, a shadow half a heartbeat late.
My skin prickled. “Lucian?”
He blinked once, slow, deliberate. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Well, lucky for you, I’m not good at listening.” I tried to laugh, but it came out tight. “What’s going on—”
He stiffened. “Stay where you are.”
“No,” I said immediately, because apparently I enjoy making terrible life choices.
“Keira,” he growled and his voice wasn’t entirely human anymore. It carried a tremor that vibrated through the air, a low growl that made the candles waver.
I stood anyway, walking toward him. “You’re trembling.”
His chair screeched against the floor. He stood.
“Lucian?”
He didn’t answer. His breathing grew uneven, shallow. The veins along his neck glowed faintly, crawling with that eerie silver light that pulsed like living fire under his skin.
“Lucian.”
“Lucian?” I tried again.
No answer.
Only the sound of porcelain cracking. His hands those hands that once traced my cheek so carefully were now clawed, silver-tipped. The veins on his neck bulged, and when he exhaled, frost laced the air.
“Okay… that’s new. Definitely not in the dinner etiquette manual.” I took a step back and another.
His head jerked, like something inside him fought for control. His breath came out ragged. “Leave.”
“What?”
“Leave now.”
“N-No. Not happening.”
“Keira,” he growled low, broken, primal. The sound wasn’t fully human anymore. “I said—”
“Lucian, stop!” I shouted, when his hand slammed down, shattering a plate between us. Fragments flew. I ducked barely missed being stabbed by luxury tableware.
And then, in a heartbeat, he was in front of me.
The scent of smoke and iron filled my lungs. His pupils were slitted, fangs bared not the polished menace of an Alpha but the feral hunger of something unchained.
My heart tripped. “Lucian, listen to me—”
He caught my wrist. Not gently.
Every instinct screamed run, but something deeper the bond, the curse, whatever it was rooted me to the ground. His skin burned against mine, feverish, trembling.
“Lucian,” I whispered. “You’re hurting me.”
He froze. For a moment, the silver flicker in his eyes dimmed, replaced by recognition.
“K—Keira?”
“I’m right here.”
His grip loosened but the curse didn’t.
His claws brushed my arm, dragging fire and shivers in their wake. Then he leaned in too close, too sudden his lips hovering just above mine. His voice came out fractured, more breath than sound.
“Tell me to stop.”
I should have. Gods, I should have.
But when his mouth met mine, the world broke open.
It wasn’t gentle. It was the kiss of something starved, lost between desire and despair. The table behind me rattled when he pressed forward, his power spilling into the air like a storm. My back hit wood, then marble then his hands caught my waist, lifting me easily onto the table as plates crashed to the floor.
“Lucian—” I tried, but it came out as a gasp.
His lips trailed down my jaw, my throat. Every touch was a battle between man and monster, between want and warning. The heat of him bled through my skin, and for a heartbeat, I forgot he was cursed at all.
Forgot the danger. Forgot the prophecy. Forgot everything but him.
“Lucian, this isn’t you,” I managed to whisper.
He paused his breath heavy against my neck.
“Then who am I, Keira?”
The question clawed through the air.
“You’re not this,” I said, softer now. “You’re not the curse.”
He made a sound half a laugh, half a growl. “Lies. This is the only truth left of me.”
Before I could speak, his mouth found mine again, desperate, consuming. The table creaked beneath us, silver light flaring across his chest. His hands framed my face, trembling, as if he was fighting something I couldn’t see.
Then too sudden the warmth twisted cold.
His pupils narrowed. The veins under his skin pulsed like living lightning.
And when he looked at me again, I knew.
That wasn’t Lucian.
Not anymore.
“Lucian?” I whispered.
The creature before me tilted its head. The smile it gave me was sharp, wrong. “You shouldn’t have stayed.”
My stomach dropped.
I shoved at his chest, but his hand caught mine, pinning it against the table. His strength doubled—inhuman, merciless.
“Lucian stop!” I tried to reach through the bond, the spark of recognition that had always answered my voice before. “You don’t want to hurt me!”
The silver glow flared, blinding.
He flinched just barely but it was enough. I twisted, breaking free, and stumbled back. My palm burned where his mark met mine, a flash of heat and agony.
He staggered too, clutching his head. The curse tore through him, shadows bleeding from his body like smoke.
“Lucian!”
I grabbed the nearest thing a goblet, a plate, I didn’t even know and threw it. It shattered near his feet, the sound echoing like a spell.
He froze.
The reflection in the window his reflection moved before he did, mirroring a snarl that didn’t reach his real face.
“Lucian, listen to me!” I yelled over the ringing in my ears. “You’re stronger than this curse! You hear me? You’re not some puppet of the Moon!”
He bared his teeth. “You think I can control it?”
“I think you already are!”
The silence that followed was deafening.
His breathing slowed, ragged but real. The light under his skin dimmed from blinding silver to soft moonlight. His claws retracted, his shoulders trembling.
Then quietly, like a man waking from a nightmare he said, “Keira.”
And that was all it took. I crossed the distance and wrapped my arms around him before reason could stop me. His body shook, half with exhaustion, half with disbelief.
He buried his face against my shoulder, breath shuddering. “I almost—”
“I know.”
“I could’ve—”
“But you didn’t.”
He pulled back, eyes wet with something he would never call tears. “You don’t understand. There’s something inside me. Something old. It’s learning how to move, how to—”
“Then we’ll learn how to stop it,” I said.
He shut his eyes, fighting the tremor in his muscles. “No it can't, I'm getting worse.”
“Because of me?”
Silence. His jaw tightened.
So that was a yes.
“Every time I’m near you,” he murmured, “it reacts. My body… the curse recognizes you.”
“Recognize me how?” I asked, my voice small.
His gaze snapped up to mine raw, desperate. “As mine.”
The word hit me harder than it should have.
He staggered forward, gripping the edge of the table until it cracked beneath his hand. The air shimmered around him, pulsing with barely contained energy.
“Lucian, you need to control it—”
“I can’t.” His voice broke, a rare fracture in his usual iron tone. “Every instinct in me wants to—” He stopped himself, chest heaving, fangs glinting as he bit back whatever word came next.
My pulse hammered in my ears. “Then fight it.”
His laugh was hoarse. “You think I haven’t tried?”
He looked at me then not as a tyrant, not as a monster, but as a man burning alive in his own skin.
And I did what no sane person should do.
I reached for him.
The moment my hand brushed his, heat surged through me searing, electric, alive. His claws grazed my wrist, careful but trembling. I felt the curse through his touch: the storm caged inside him, the pain of holding back something primal.
He inhaled sharply. “You shouldn’t…”
“Lucian, look at me.”
His eyes snapped open. The silver light dimmed for a breath, like the curse itself hesitated.
“Breathe,” I whispered. “Focus on me.”
He did. Slowly. The tremors eased, his pulse syncing with mine.
For a moment, it was quiet again peaceful, almost fragile.
Then his hand moved, sliding to the back of my neck. The touch was rough, unsure, like he was terrified of what he might do but craving it anyway. His forehead rested against mine, the warmth of his breath ghosting my lips.
“Why do you do this to me?” he whispered.
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” I said, trying for humor, but it came out shakier than intended.
The faintest smile curved his lips. It didn’t reach his eyes.
Then, just as suddenly, he stepped back.
The glow vanished. The silver veins faded. The curse receded like a tide retreating from shore.
He stood there, chest rising and falling, hands trembling slightly.
“Leave,” he said quietly.
My heart lurched. “Lucian—”
“Now, Aria.”
There was something final in his tone. Not anger—fear.
For a moment, I wanted to argue. To tell him he didn’t scare me, that I could handle whatever darkness was eating at him. But the look in his eyes stopped me.
It wasn’t the look of a tyrant. It was a plea.
I nodded once and turned away.
As I reached the door, I heard the faintest sound behind me a soft exhale, almost like a sigh.
“Keira,” he murmured. My name, barely audible.
I turned slightly, catching one last glimpse of him in the dim candlelight half shadow, half man, eyes full of something that could almost be tenderness.
And then, before I could answer, the last candle flickered out.
Silence swallowed the room.
Outside, thunder grumbled across the moors, echoing through Dravenmoor’s castle. The candles flickered out one by one until only the moonlight remained, painting it whole, unsteady glow.
In that light, he wasn’t a tyrant. He wasn’t the curse.
He was just Lucian tired, trembling, and still trying to believe he could be something more than what fate had written.
And for tonight, that was enough even if fate was already rewriting the script again.