Deborah's POV
"How long will you keep pretending?" Ryan's voice was filled with a challenge, his eyes sharp with provocation.
Instinctively, I blurted out,"What?"
He looked at me like a hunter closing in on his prey, his gaze filled with self-assured smugness, as if I were some prize he was already certain of winning.
I couldn't stop Telepathy from kicking in. His thoughts flooded into my mind.
I felt sick to my stomach.
The alcohol I had earlier was already making me a little dizzy, but now, I was on the verge of feeling physically ill.
[She's been crushing on me for ages and now acts like she doesn't know me? Coming to this mixer just to play hard-to-get. Always the shy little bookworm, but tonight? Damn, she's hot. I knew she'd come around eventually. Tonight, she's mine.]
Crushing on him for ages? Deborah, your taste was really off.
I shot him a cold glare, my voice sharp."You're not my type. Stop being so full of yourself. Who would be into a self-obsessed, greasy creep like you?"
In my previous life, I was the cherished heir of the Lee family, raised in a world of privilege.
Men like Ryan didn't even have the right to breathe the same air as me.
He would never have dared approach me, not in a million years.
Chad had been the one exception.
If only I had had Telepathy back then.
I could've uncovered Chad's true intentions early on, and maybe, just maybe, my family wouldn't have been wiped out.
Suddenly, Ryan's hand started creeping along my waist, his fingers trying to pull me closer.
I shot him a fierce look, yanking my body away and hissing,"Don't touch me. Keep your filthy hands to yourself!"
But his mind was still filled with disgusting thoughts:
[Still a… huh? Tonight, I'll make sure that changes. The more you fights, the better this gets.]
"You've got such a strong attitude tonight," he said, licking his lips with a twisted smirk."Did you dress up like this just for me? You knew I'd be here, didn't you? Trying to get my attention, right?"
His hand moved again, undeterred.
I admit, I'd had too much to drink, and on top of that, this body wasn't in the best shape.
It lacked the strength I was used to, leaving me weaker than I expected.
Fury coursed through me, mixing with my disgust.
"Back off!" I snapped, teeth clenched as I tried to push him away, but it wasn't enough.
Just as I thought I might not be able to shake him off, a tall figure stepped between us.
A stranger, a broad-shouldered and blonde, shoved Ryan away with ease.
His voice was calm, but firm, as he said,"She's clearly not interested. Walk away before you make a bigger fool of yourself."
Ryan sneered, his pride clearly wounded."And who the hell are you? Just another gold-eyed slave."
Gold eyes? Slave blood? My mind instantly recalled Maeve's prophecy. Could this man be a werewolf? One of the cursed, bound by the witches, with only the priestly line able to release them?
I didn't know exactly what curse had been placed on the werewolves, nor how it could be lifted, but I knew the man standing before me had to be connected to their kind.
The bar's dim lighting made it impossible to see his face clearly, but I could make out the tight-fitting shirt that showed off his muscular build and the loose jeans that hung on his large frame.
He stood at least a head taller than Ryan, exuding an aura of strength and confidence.
Realizing he was outmatched, Ryan muttered a few curses under his breath and quickly slunk away.
I remained where I was, my gaze now fixed on the man before me.
His golden eyes gleamed in the shadows, the telltale sign of a werewolf.
We exchanged names.
I told him I was Deborah, and he introduced himself as Matthew.
As we talked, I felt an unexpected ease wash over me.
Though I knew nothing about him, there was something comforting about his presence.
With Telepathy, I could sense the surge of emotions within him.
He was already smitten.
But he kept it under tight control, afraid of overwhelming me.
I could practically feel the rhythm of his heartbeat, as if it were somehow in sync with my own.
Before I realized it, we had left the bar, stepping out into the simulated day-night cycle of the underground city.
There was no sun or moon here, but the artificial lights imitated them, creating a strange imitation of natural time.
As we walked, I finally got a proper look at Matthew's face under the streetlights.
"Chad?" I gasped.
Matthew looked almost identical to Chad in his younger years, down to the very curve of his jawline.