STARLIGHT PROMISE:"Bound to the Lycan"

Chapter 41

AMORA'S POV
                         How could he sleep so easily, sprawled out and peaceful, while I lay here, restless, mind spinning? Every time I closed my eyes, the image of him—fresh from the shower, with water glistening on his skin—flashed like a forbidden memory I couldn't escape. I groaned, rolling over, burying my face in the pillow as if that could erase the memory. I didn't mean to see him like that! One wrong door, and there he was, standing in all his rugged glory.
 
  "Selfish jerk," I muttered. But even as I cursed him under my breath, the thought of his smirk, his cool, composed eyes... I shivered, annoyed at myself for not being able to let it go. It wasn't just a passing distraction; I was captivated, and the worst part was I couldn't figure out why. My heart raced at the thought of his bare skin, a vision that kept haunting me with every flutter of my eyelids. I had to stop. My mind shouldn't be entertaining these thoughts about him, of all people.
 
  I needed sleep, if not to quiet the storm of emotions inside me, then to be ready for tomorrow. Zora had planned a day to show me around, and she was so eager, like a kid with a new toy. She always made me feel welcome, her presence a balm to my otherwise tense existence here. She reminded me so much of Hale, someone who'd always been there for me, a steady source of warmth in my life. I missed her. I missed that comfort, that sense of home.
 
  Eventually, I drifted off into a light, restless sleep, the ghost of his image lingering in my mind.
 
  When I finally woke up, voices outside my door pulled me from slumber. Groggily, I glanced at the clock—past eight. My stomach twisted. I'd meant to wake up early, and now I'd completely slept in. Outside, I caught Zora's familiar voice, laughing and chatting with someone.
 
  "Miss Zora, the Alpha said to let her sleep in. She seemed so tired." The words drifted through the door, and Zora's laugh followed.
 
  I quickly threw on something decent and headed to the door, catching Zora just before she could walk away.
 
  "Zora," I called, barely suppressing a yawn. She turned, her face lighting up with her usual smile, but there was a glint of mischief there too.
 
  "Well, good morning, sleepyhead! Looks like someone had a good night's rest." She teased, nudging me. I could barely suppress the blush, thinking about the restless night that had little to do with actual sleep.
 
  I stammered an apology, but she waved it off. "No need. Brother made sure you wouldn't be disturbed. He practically ordered everyone to let you rest. We were just curious, that's all."
 
  He had ordered them? I bit my lip, surprised, wondering if that was really kindness or something else. But before I could dwell on it, Zora patted my shoulder, her eyes bright.
 
  "Come on, I'll give you a little time to get ready. No rush. I'm just downstairs. Take your time, and I'll be waiting," she said, giving me one last smile before heading off.
 
  After breakfast, I headed downstairs, where Zora was already busy at her laptop. She looked up the second I appeared, her face breaking into a grin. "You look beautiful, Amora," she said warmly, her tone completely sincere. Her words caught me off guard, and I stammered a thanks, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. Compliments from her were unexpected and genuine, so different from what I was used to.
 
  "Ready for our grand tour?" she asked, taking my hand enthusiastically and leading me out. The sun was warm, casting a golden glow over the gardens, making the flowers shimmer like something out of a fairy tale. Zora's excitement was contagious, and I found myself relaxing in her company, marveling at the beauty of the house, the elegance of the gardens, and the way she animated every story she told about the place. Every corner of the estate had a charm I hadn't noticed before.
 
  Eventually, we reached a gallery-like hallway, walls lined with portraits of noble-looking figures. Each face was captivating, haunting even, and I couldn't help but feel that the eyes in those paintings were following me, like they knew more about me than I knew myself.
 
  "Oh, Amora," Zora said suddenly, stopping mid-step. "Wait here for just a minute! I forgot to send something to my professor, and I have a deadline in like, two minutes. Just enjoy looking around, okay? The guards are close by if you need anything."
 
  I nodded, watching her hurry off, her usual calm demeanor now tinged with urgency. Left alone, I let my gaze wander across the paintings. They were regal, each one more majestic than the last, their eyes filled with secrets, watching, waiting.
 
  Toward the end of the hall, I noticed a door ajar, leading into a darker room. Curiosity got the best of me, and I pushed it open, stepping inside. Dust floated through a faint beam of light, and the air was thick with the smell of old books and wood. The room felt forgotten, yet sacred, like it was holding something the world wasn't meant to see.
 
  I moved closer to the walls, examining more paintings, each one more intricate and alluring than those outside. They looked almost alive, as if each figure was caught in a moment, frozen in time. Then, at the end of the room, a single, larger portrait caught my eye. My breath hitched as I took it in, feeling my heart skip a beat.
 
  It was unmistakably a portrait of... me.
 
  I stared, wide-eyed, at the image in disbelief. There was no mistaking it—the shape of my face, my eyes, even the faint curve of my lips. It was me, and yet it wasn't. My likeness looked regal, ancient, like someone from a distant past I couldn't begin to understand. My mind raced, trying to find a logical explanation, but I was at a complete loss. Why would there be a painting of me here, in a room no one seemed to have entered in years?
 
  I felt a strange connection, as if this image held a part of me I'd never known. My hand trembled as I reached out, almost expecting to feel something stir beneath the canvas. There was an energy in the room, an invisible thread linking me to this version of myself, one that was impossible to explain. I couldn't shake the feeling that somehow, this portrait held the answers to questions I hadn't even thought to ask.
 
  Footsteps approached, and I turned to see Zora at the doorway. Her face softened when she saw me, her gaze shifting to the painting before landing back on me, her expression a mix of surprise and something else, something that looked almost... sad.
 
  "Zora..." I whispered, my voice barely audible. "This painting... it's... it's me. But how?"
 
  She looked at me, her smile gentle, yet guarded. "Sometimes, Amora, things aren't as they seem. There's a lot about this place you may not understand now, but one day it'll make sense." Her words were cryptic, but there was a softness in her eyes that reassured me, even as it left me with more questions than answers.
 
  I turned back to the painting, the mystery deepening in my mind. Who was this version of me? What connection did she have to this place? And why did looking at her make my chest ache, as if I were longing for something I'd never known?
 
  Zora took my hand, pulling me gently out of the room. I cast one last look at the portrait, feeling its presence lingering behind me like a shadow. We walked in silence, but my mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, questions, and emotions I couldn't put into words.
 
  Whatever secrets this place held, I was determined to uncover them. The painting, my strange connection to it, and the undeniable pull I felt toward this mysterious world—it all felt like the beginning of something bigger, something that would change me in ways I couldn't yet imagine.
 
  As we walked away, I knew one thing for sure: my life would never be the same.