The Lycan King and his Dark Temptation (Valeria) novel Chapter 252

NARRATOR

Sigrid watched as Morgana turned her back, blood flowing from the dozens of wounds covering her body.

She was ready to run, desperate to escape somewhere.

It was incredible how humiliating fear of death could be for anyone.

All the glamour, all the superiority—none of it existed in critical moments.

Morgana was more desperate than she had ever been in her life.

How could she have been so foolish, feeding a formidable enemy right under her nose?

At what point had that Selenia parasitized Electra’s body?

There was no time to figure it out now. She needed to flee, fast, to her mansion. She had to gather her children and escape through the portal in the secret sanctuary, where she kept her family’s most powerful book—The Book of Risorgimento.

It couldn’t fall into this damn woman’s hands. It held all the secrets of her ancestors, spells she herself had never even mastered.

Muttering the runes of escape, she prepared to create a portal outside Electra’s mansion.

She was suffocating, her voice hoarse with coughing, her skin burning, on the verge of charring in the flames consuming everything around her.

Then Morgana turned swiftly, precisely, attempting to surprise Sigrid to buy herself time. She cast a mere smoke screen, using it as a cover while she truly opened a passage to the outside.

A rift began to form out of thin air, like a jagged mouth splitting open in the very fabric of reality.

Morgana could already feel the cool night breeze on her face, smell the scent of freedom. She only had to make it to her mansion, and she would be safe.

She moved to slip her thick body through—there was no time to waste.

But she never imagined that instead of freedom, what greeted her was a dark, clawed hand suddenly emerging from the very portal she had created, grasping straight for her throat.

She gasped like a fish out of water, her eyes bulging with terror as she stared at the horrifying creature that had slipped in through the very exit she intended to take.

Darkness. Only darkness, faceless and endless, with sunken red hollows where eyes should be—eyes filled with nothing but hatred. It made her tremble in sheer dread.

It was enormous, a towering shadow that reached the ceiling. And after the first one, many more followed.

Sigrid froze, too. She sensed the shift in space; she knew Morgana was creating a portal to flee.

She had already summoned a sword of fire, ready to drive it straight into Morgana’s back like the coward she was. But when the smoke cleared and she saw what lay before her, even her own spirit wavered with a hint of fear.

Specters.

These were the dreaded specters of her world.

Only now, they looked stronger, more menacing—more lethal and bloodthirsty.

Even for her, they would be difficult to defeat, especially in the numbers that were now pouring into the mansion.

Their dark energy immediately filled every corner of the burning estate, feeding and intensifying the flames.

And in the midst of all that chaos, Morgana dangled in the air, kicking wildly, struggling for breath as one of them clutched her thick throat.

Where had they come from? Had they already existed in this time? This was dangerous.

Sigrid turned her gaze to the jagged portal—one that should have led into the forest.

Amidst the overwhelming darkness, something shimmered.

Silver hair. A man was stepping through the portal into the mansion.

The specters seemed to heed his command. He was their master.

Her sword slipped from her trembling hand, clattering onto the floor as her mouth parted in astonishment.

Tall stature. Broad shoulders. Fibrous, powerful muscles. A masculine, square, devastatingly sexy face.

And those golden eyes—piercing, devouring her with an intensity that sent a chill down her spine.

Her brows furrowed slightly as she looked around, at the terrifying specters, then back at Silas’s chest, where she could no longer measure the power swirling within his soul.

A stunning, almost impossible premonition began to grow inside her heart.

"Sigrid, don’t be afraid. Don’t fear me or them. I control them, and I…" Silas lowered his face, mere inches from hers, his possessive hands settling on her narrow waist, pulling her against him.

He needed to breathe her in, to feel her magic, her presence, to slip beneath her skin and bury himself in her soul.

"…I would die before I ever hurt you," he confessed. "They look terrifying, but they’re just lost souls, like I was before I met you."

"I’m not afraid of you, Silas, I…" Sigrid hesitated, a thousand possibilities running through her mind. She had no time to discuss this right now.

"I’m just… amazed. I’m so glad you recovered. We’ll talk later."

She cupped his cheek, and Silas leaned into her touch, closing his eyes with a pleased sigh.

"Do you like me?" he murmured, his mouth brushing dangerously close to hers in a seductive whisper, pressing her fully against his powerful body, his fingers stroking the back of her neck with tender affection.

Sigrid’s heart skipped a beat, and heat rushed to her cheeks, painting them a soft pink.

By the Goddess… if resisting him had been difficult before, now, with that sinful face inches away, that low, husky, panty-melting voice… what could she possibly deny him?

"I’ve always liked you, Silas. It’s your essence that draws me the most," Sigrid said, pressing a hand against his chest. "Never forget that. It’s not about how you look—it’s about who you are in your heart."

Then, she rose on her toes and kissed him. Soft, fleeting, but charged with emotions so deep, so intense, so ravenous.

*****

Morgana thought she was going to die of a heart attack right then and there.

She was in shambles, on the brink of collapse—and those bastards had the audacity to romance each other right in front of her?!

"Damn them!"