Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 255(@200wpm)___ 204(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 255(@200wpm)___ 204(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
Their home was gone. The High Circle was no more. He was the only one left, and the burden was so damn heavy Lysander had to constantly fight against the urge to break under its weight. Once a sought-after prince, Lysander was now reduced to a social pariah. It made him cold and empty inside, and it was in this mood that Star walked back into his life.
“Lysander?”
He turned around at the hesitant-sounding voice, his eyes narrowing when he saw her face. She was pretty and innocent-looking, with dark hair and emerald eyes. She was also strangely familiar, which didn't make sense at all. He remembered every woman he had fucked, and someone this young would have been automatically off limits.
But still, her face nagged at him.
A tentative smile curved over her face, and recognition struck.
“Star." Real pleasure underlined Lysander's voice as the memories of one particularly idyllic summer returned. Those days were the last time he had known peace, and this young girl was a large reason for it. She had been a sweet kid, quiet and shy but without artifice, and he remembered with much affection the many interesting talks they had of history and politics, subjects that he had never discussed with any other member of the opposite sex until her.
The first time they met, he had to conceal his identity in fear of having women throw themselves at him.
Now, however...
The girl was being true to her name, with Star gazing up at him with her namesake shining in her eyes. She was the only one in the entire ball to look at him like this, and even though he knew he was being stupid, her open adoration of him was a balm to his pride.
"You remember me."
Her shy voice had him wincing at her naïveté, and he said gently, "It's nothing to be flattered about these days, trust me."
The way her smile faded told Lysander she knew exactly what he was talking about, and the pang of bitterness this induced disturbed him.
He had always been a realist, and so for the most part he had been able to deal with the changes in his life with philosophical objectivity. Most people preferred to leech off those who were wealthier and more powerful, and having become a prince without a kingdom, it had not come as a surprise to Lysander when his so-called friends had nearly dwindled to nothing.
But to see with his own eyes that Star was also aware of his fall...
It didn't fucking sit well with him at all, and only the knowledge that it was sorrow and not pity on her face that kept Lysander from snarling at her.
"Um..."
His self-contempt subsided when his heightened senses picked up a sudden, violent spike from her mood. Something was disturbing her, he thought, and this made him ask sharply, "What is it?"
"I heard...you were looking for a Lyccan princess to be betrothed to?"
Lysander stiffened. "And?"
"Is it true?"
"And if it is?" If he were indeed looking for a Lyccan princess, what then? Would she turn out to be like everyone else, thinking he was now so damn desperate he would willingly ingratiate himself to the first woman with deep enough pockets to approach him?
Disappointment and rage rose to the fore, but he forced himself to rein his emotions in as he heard her ask about the type of princess she was looking for. Star was different, he strove to remind himself. And so he managed to answer in a tight but fairly calm voice, saying, "At this point, I'd be willing to marry anyone who could help protect my race."
And let it be the end of that, if she knew what was good for her.
But she obviously did not, since she was already asking him her next question, and it was even sillier than the first one. “But what about what you want?”
"This is what I want," he couldn't help snapping. Was she fucking stupid or what? Didn't she realize that what he wanted no longer mattered?
"Ah." She then flashed him a brave smile, and this threw him off. What the fuck did she have to be brave about when she wasn't the one burdened by the need to find a kingdom for her own race?
"Then..." Lysander frowned as he watched her chest rise and fall in rapid fashion, heard her heart hammering against his chest, and his puzzlement grew.
"You'd want me."
Lysander's brows shot up.
"Because I'm a Lyccan princess, and my name isn't really...well, it's Star but not in English." He watched her draw another shaky breath just before the words came rushing out. "My real name is Estrella Moretti, and I'm the younger sister of..."
Domenico Moretti, Lysander thought in disbelief.
"Domenico Moretti."
Domenico Fucking Moretti.
The wolf prince that Misty had left him for.
IT WAS A HARD TWO YEARS, and there hadn't been a single day, hour or minute that Lysander was not on the brink of collapsing and surrendering his body to the beast's command. Countless times, the urge to free himself from the pain tempted him beyond belief, but then...it would happen. It would be just as the jinn said, the anchor of his soul tightening around him and keeping him alive for just another moment. And it did so by making him remember.