Chapter 2

Layla's POV

Against the fire and smoke in the background, a boy's figure slowly emerged. 

He looked a bit older and much taller than me, wearing a drenching wet black cloak embroidered with patterns in gold threads. I couldn't tell what material this cloak was made of, but it looked extremely sophisticated and expensive. 

All the werewolves I had met were either wearing ragged shirts or uniforms.

I had never seen a man wearing such a beautiful cloak before.

But the thing that really impressed me was his honey-colored eyes. 

I had never seen any werewolves who possessed a pair of eyes in that color. They looked exotic and dangerous. 

In a dark forest with fire, rain, and smoke, they were sparkling like liquid amber. 

"Why do you look at me like that?" The boy asked, taking a step forward. His dark, tousled hair fell in charming disarray across his forehead. 

I was surprised by his sudden approach, so I flinched and bumped into a tree behind me, almost losing my balance. 

Just before I fell to the ground on my back, a pair of powerful arms caught me. 

I looked up and saw his flawless face, illuminated by the orange-colored light of fire, just above the tip of my nose. 

I had never been this close to a boy before, so naturally, I turned crimson. 

I wanted to push him away, but the smell on his cloak was completely irresistible. 

Werewolves are equipped with enhanced olfaction and we are particularly sensitive to the smell of our own kind. 

But on that day, while I was leaning in his arms, I felt hypnotized by the strange smell coming from him. 

Even with the strong smell of grass, rain, and smoke, I could still distinguish his smell. 

It was something very sophisticated, with layers of cedar and amber, associated with a touch of lavender. 

That was something very unexpected because werewolf boys usually smelt like sweat and shit. 

As I was completely petrified in his arms, I couldn't stop but sniff his arms.

"Are you sniffing me?" the boy asked. 

His voice was like the most pleasing melody coming from another dimension of the entire universe. 

I looked up at him with embarrassment, only to find out that he was staring at me. 

His rare honey-colored eyes were full of inquiry, while his perfect brows were marred with a frown.

I had never been stared at by anyone like that before. 

Even my own father wouldn't give me such fully devoted attention. 

There was something special about this boy, but I couldn't tell what it was. 

I had a burning sensation on my face. It immediately spread all over my body. 

He lowered his head and leaned forward. 

"You felt so warm," he mumbled and placed a hand over my forehead. "Yet you're trembling. Are you sick?"  

His hand felt icy cold, which made me flinch again. 

"Who are you?" I frowned and asked. "Are you sent by my aunt to kill me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," the boy replied in a serious voice. "I only kill people who have wronged me."

The way he talked about it was so casual as if there was nothing wrong with taking people's lives away. 

I immediately panicked and pushed him away with all my force. 

He looked surprised, staring at me with confusion. 

Then, his lean body bent over a bit as if there was a cramp in his stomach. 

At that moment, I noticed that there there was blood on his shirt. 

"Are you hurt?" I asked in a panic. 

He didn't answer me. Instead, he lifted the hem of his shirt to check it out. 

I moved a bit closer and saw there was an open wound in his abdomen. 

The wound was a nasty one. It looked like a hole, with thick dark blood coming out of it.  

And it just wouldn't stop. 

Why doesn't it stop? I thought to myself. 

Werewolves, even the weakest Omegas, manage to heal themselves after they are injured. 

Maybe he's a human being? Is that why he felt so special to me?

At that time, the rain stopped and the fire died out. 

The moon appeared behind the dark clouds, pouring its silver light all over the forest. 

In the dimly glowing moonlight, I finally realized what was special about this boy - 

His face was as pale as a ghost.

Is that because he has lost too much blood? I thought. 

Without any hesitation, almost instinctively, I tried to move forward and cover his wound with my hands.

But to my surprise, he lifted his head to snarl at me.

I was taken aback and petrified because his face was twisted and I saw the razor-like sharp teeth hidden behind his perfect lips. 

Is he a vampire?! 

As the thought hit me, I felt the chill spreading down my spine. 

Even though I was a child, I knew that we werewolves were at war with vampires. 

Werewolf soldiers, being severely traumatized physically and mentally, would be carried back to our camp. 

The doctors and nurses would attend a few and bury the rest. 

Like what they had done to my mother. 

A terrifying thought flashed past my mind -

Is this vampire boy going to kill me? 

I was so scared that my legs became jelly before I fell to the ground. 

Having witnessed my clumsy reaction, the vampire boy immediately regained his calm and charm. 

He moved forward and sat next to me. 

I was trying to withdraw, but there was a giant tree blocking my way from behind. I got nowhere to go.

He sighed and asked in a soft voice, "Did I scare you?" 

The tenderness in his voice, combined with his pleasant smell, tranquilized me. 

"I'm not scared," I replied in a low voice. "But please don't hurt me."

I had never begged for my life like this before. 

I suddenly felt a strong sense of humiliation from the bottom of my heart. 

If my mother was still alive, she would feel ashamed of me, begging for my life in front of an enemy like that. 

But the only thing was, my mother no longer existed.

She died.

As the thought emerged in my mind, I felt tremendously aggrieved.

I couldn't withhold my anger and tears, so I let them all out. 

The boy looked a bit overwhelmed as I cried my eyes out in front of him.

He was the one who got injured, but I ended up being the one who cried out like a melting candle. 

For a brief moment, the only sound in the forest was my weeping. 

Then, he shifted a bit toward me and asked in a tender voice, "If you aren't scared, then why are you crying?"

I didn't reply and kept weeping. 

The boy looked at me curiously and said, "You remind me of my brother. He also cries a lot."