09 | Feral Porcupine.

E L E A N O R

Maids wait at the entrance, but instead of heading toward me, they stroll toward Perseus' carriage, greeting him as they begin to offload the trunk.

The horseman is kind enough to help me with the carriage door. Marina steps out and quickly gets to work—organizing both our bags. A cold gust of wind brushes against my skin, and I rub my shoulders slightly, oblivious to the glares the maids are shooting at me. I can already tell this experience will be remarkable. Werewolves are supposed to be subdued under Lycans, and now, a werewolf is about to become their Luna.

Perseus is giving orders to the guards on where to keep his things. I pull my gaze from him and glance back at Marina, who’s helping the Lycan maids.

“Ladies,” Severus clears his throat, drawing their attention. “This is the Alpha’s wife and soon-to-be Luna, Eleanor Astrid Cage. Treat her with respect and warmth,” he says firmly.

“Welcome, Your Majesty,” they all mutter as they bow reluctantly.

“Please help her get settled in,” Severus adds.

I offer a small smile, just in time to feel a firm grip around my arm.

“There will be no need,” a deep voice says from behind. Perseus. When did he get here? “Come with me,” he adds.

Before I can say another word, he starts pulling me toward the building, his grip tightening with every step.

“I want to wait for Marina. She hasn't dealt with Lycans before,” I say quickly as he opens the door and drags me into the equally elegant interior of the castle.

He ignores me and leads me toward the stairs.

Maids and servants are already loitering, peeking through doors and windows. I can tell my scent has drawn them here. Perseus, on the other hand, continues dragging me until we reach the grand staircase in the ballroom.

“You’re causing a scene! Where are we going? Let go of me—you’re hurting me!” I yell frantically. My arm is now bleeding. His claws, retracted in rage, are piercing my skin.

My brain races to catch up. This is supposed to be the wedding night. I had planned to fall asleep in the bathtub if we ever had to share a room—but this? The rage in his eyes, the force of his grip—I know he isn't planning on being gentle. And I’d rather die than let him touch me. Rough or not.

“Let go of me!” I shout, my pulse quickening, my body heating up with feelings I can’t even name—feelings that have nothing to do with desire.

Reina hasn’t spoken to me since the wolfsbane incident, but I can feel her stirring beneath the pain. She’s melting at this contact, even though it hurts.

We’re halfway up the staircase when the pain becomes unbearable, like a thousand needles stabbing into my arm. Blood is now trailing behind us on the steps.

“Let go!” I scream, planting my feet and trying to stop him, but Perseus refuses.

In a fit of rage, my claws extend from my right hand. I swing—and slash his face. Deep.

A collective gasp echoes through the palace walls.

Perseus releases my arm, shock widening his eyes as he covers his face with his palm. Bits of flesh cling to my claws. I pant, still trying to catch my breath. Still heavily breathing, I wrap my coat around my arm, nursing the burning pain.

Then—he smirks wickedly.

“Don’t come closer,” I mutter, stepping back.

But in a blink, he’s in front of me. Damned lycan speed. The wound on his face is now inches away. I can see how deep I’ve cut him. And strangely—it’s satisfying. He’s in pain. Again. By my hands.

He reaches for me again. I react instinctively, shoving him hard causing him to lose his balance.

He crashes down the staircase—rolling all the way to the marble floor.

Severus bursts in just as Perseus hits the ground. The maids and servants rush toward their fallen King.

Perseus shrugs off Severus' hand, chest heaving with fury. I don’t know what to say—or what to feel. I rub my forehead as I descend the staircase slowly.

He points at me, blood and bruises coating his face.

“First, I’m called a short, bald, old man. Then I’m thrown a dagger. Bitten at my wedding. And now? Scratched and thrown down the staircase in my own house.”

I scoff. “Says the bastard who kills like it’s his first nature. Bloody murderer can’t handle a little scratch.”

His fists clench.

“Severus, have the guards lock her in the dungeon until I decide what to do with her.” He says with a grunt and takes his leave, Severus following behind.

At his command, the guards step forward and grab my arm, one of them deliberately adding pressure to my injury. Jerk.

Marina rushes into the room just as they start moving toward the dungeon. I’ve never been to the dungeon before, but I know one thing about egoistical bastards—begging only worsens their egos. Instead of that, I keep my head high and comply. It’s only for a while before I kill that man myself.

“Your Grace, Eleanor! What is happening?” Marina asks, fear spasming through her eyes.

“This feral porcupine scratched Alpha Perseus's face,” a Lycan maid squeaks.

“Not only did she do that, she pushed him down the staircase,” another concurs.

“Werewolves, animalistic rogues,” another one sneers.

The guards push Marina aside and continue to drag me toward the dungeon, leaving her looking confused.

“Get settled in, Marina. I'll be fine,” I assure her.

I’m not sure if I’m right, or if I’ll be fine as I claim, but I am certain that I won’t die. Perseus can’t kill me. And this is just the beginning of what I have planned for him. His flesh in my claws is a perfect reminder of how I will rip him apart, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left.