2 A Cursed Werewolf

"We have arrived, milady," announced the coachman, further telling Melva it was now alright to take off the black cloth covering her eyes. He proceeded to open the door of the carriage for her, although she could have opened it herself just fine. But who was she to deprive a man of his job? "Welcome to the Nightwind's  Manor."

An enormous establishment rose before her, encircled by a vast grass field, so extensive she could not see the end of it from where she stood. She had never seen any building in Ichorhold as big as the one she was seeing. The crimson glow casted by the blood moon on the manor gave her a sense of foreboding, reminding her that it was a werewolf's lair, not a noble's residence. She silently wondered where they had got their wealth from. Hopefully not by extorting money from the nobles.

Melva was not given the leisure to admire the sight of the manor as a middle-aged man and a young woman made haste to come to her and usher her into the establishment without so much as introducing themselves. They were wearing uniforms resembling that of a butler and a maid, leading her to assume they were working for the owner of the manor. She didn't know whether they were demons or humans. Not having enough knowledge about demons made it impossible for her to recognise the differences between the two.

The maid was walking in front of her while the butler was following them from behind. They climbed up the stairs, walked down corridor after corridor, until they reached one room at the end. Melva tried her best to memorise the path they took, every staircase and every turn, for she might need to run away from there if a dire situation arose.

"Pardon my rudeness for rushing you, milady. But I'm afraid we don't have much time," said the maid after they came to a halt in front of the door to the room at the very end of the corridor.

"Why are we in a hurry? What is happening?" asked Melva, as she preferred to be prepared for what would greet her from behind the door.

The maid bowed to her, looking so troubled that Melva felt bad for asking. "My apologies, I'm not in the position to answer the question. You will have the answer once you get inside, milady."

There was no guarantee that Melva would come back out alive after entering the room. It was quite unnerving to be sent into a chamber where the maid and the butler would not enter alongside her. It seemed to her as though they were delivering her for their master's supper.

"No need to worry, milady. I assure you there is no danger inside," reassured the butler, noticing the hesitation and concern on Melva's face. Could this butler be trusted?

Melva nodded in understanding and braced herself as the butler knocked the door to announce her arrival. She might not have a weapon with her at the moment, but anything could be a weapon. If only she was fast enough to respond.

Inside the chamber was a young man lying asleep on a luxurious, large bed at the centre. She had expected to find a werewolf ambushing her the moment she walked in. However, it was actually far from that. Instead of a sudden werewolf attack, she was greeted by the sight of a defenceless young man, peacefully sleeping in a vast chamber. 

'This is not right,' thought Melva to herself.

All her life she had been dreading this day after hearing the stories and rumours about demons in town. The townspeople in the great town hall had mentioned that no one had returned alive from partaking in this bargain. Mayor Parlow had been apologising countless times for asking her this favour in exchange for welcoming her to live in Ichorhold. 

Having no memories nor places to go, she had accepted her tragic fate and agreed to take part, spending the rest of her time preparing to fight back. So why was she treated with respect? Why was she still alive and well until now?

"Good evening, Miss. I have been waiting for you," greeted another man dressed in priest attire who was standing at one corner of the chamber. "I hope the journey was an easy one."

Her eyes were drawn towards the sleeping young man the second she stepped in, so the priest's voice startled her. It was nothing less than unusual to see a priest in a private estate, and inside a bedchamber at that. However, it was her fault to expect anything usual from this establishment in the first place.

"It was," answered Melva with a polite smile after she recovered from her shock. "What am I doing here? Who is this man?"

The priest approached the bed and mannerly beckoned her over to stand beside him. "It might seem odd, but I will have to ask you to hold his hand. I promise all your questions will be answered afterwards."

It was indeed odd. Melva was suspicious of his intentions, but her mind was filled with questions that he had promised he would answer. Her curiosity won over her as she cautiously walked closer to the bed.

The young man appeared more unhealthy the clearer Melva had the opportunity to take a look at him. His skin was so pale it was almost as white as the bedsheet and most of the room's interior. And his snow white hair only brought less colour to his complexion. If it had not been for the slight movement of his chest, she would have thought he was dead.

The priest pulled out the chair next to the bed for Melva to sit. She gently placed her hand on top of the sleeping man's as she sat down and gasped in shock at how freezing he was; it was like touching a block of ice. 

"He is so cold! What is the matter with him? Is he ill?" Melva saw the priest's hesitation and reminded him of his words. "I am holding his hand. You promised."

"Pardon me, but please keep holding for a while longer," pleaded the priest. Melva was unaware of the importance of holding a sleeping man's hand, but in order to make the priest speak, she had no choice. "He is Duke Vance of Nightwind, the owner of this manor. I'm afraid ill is not quite the right word to describe His Grace's condition. The Duke is cursed."

'Is that why a priest is attending to him instead of a physician?' thought Melva in her attempt to make sense of the situation.

"I heard from the coachman that the Duke is a werewolf. Is it possible for a werewolf to be cursed?" Melva had never thought it was possible. Demons were supposed to be immune to curses, according to the rumours.

The priest nodded in response. "You are witnessing one of the rare cases, Miss. Very unfortunate, indeed. There is no way of breaking the curse as of right now, but we know how to prolong the Duke's life."

"Is that why I am here?" guessed Melva, relentless in her questioning. She was determined to obtain answers from him while she was given the chance. Knowledge was power after all.

"Werewolves naturally have high body temperatures," explained the priest, "but the curse causes the Duke to always feel cold. And only physical touch from a human can bring him warmth."

The explanation did nothing but raise many more questions in her mind. "Why does it have to be me? There are a lot of humans out there."

"Many humans have tried, but none succeeded. Actually, we are going to see whether you will or not."

Melva turned away from the priest to look at the Duke and take in his appearance. He had his eyes closed, but she could see how handsome he was. The young man's skin was flawless like porcelain. His hand that was underneath hers was much bigger, causing her hand to look so small in comparison. His jawline was so chiselled and sharp, accentuating his features. She was curious how it felt like to run her fingers through his silky white hair.

'What are you thinking, Melva? He is a werewolf! He will devour you like you are his meal once he is awake! Remember what you have come here for!' scolded Melva in her mind. How foolish she was to fall for the temptation.

The Duke was very attractive, enough to distract her. It was unfair that a demon could look so handsome. He could easily use his attractiveness to lure innocent women into his trap and make them his prey. But there was nothing dangerous about him when he was lying defenceless on his bed like this, body as cold as ice. It was difficult for her to think otherwise.

"Father, you are a human, are you not? Why are you here? Are you not afraid of the Duke?" asked Melva after hesitating for a while.

The priest gave her an amused smile at her question. "What is there to be afraid of? It is an honour to be of help to the Duke. As to why I am here, it is to observe you, Miss, to see if you are the one."

Melva's heart began thundering as she gradually realised the purpose of the contract. If the werewolf was in desperate need of her physical touch to continue living, then there was only one possible thing they would require her to do. "What happens if I am?"

"You will marry the Duke and be his mate."

The sleeping young man suddenly gasped for air and snapped his icy blue glowing eyes open.