The Lunar Crest Academy: Marked by The Lycans
Chapter 112: Beauty Beneath The Beast

Chapter 112: Chapter 112: Beauty Beneath The Beast

Lorraine’s POV

I watched as Alistair walked off without turning back

I didn’t even feel the blood dripping down my body anymore.

It dripped down my arms in slow trails, soaked into my pants, smeared across my collarbones, staining Astrid’s jacket. The air outside had been cool, but I didn’t shiver. I was too wired, too alert.

The walk to the academy hospital felt longer than it should’ve. Every step echoed against the marble floors as I entered. Heads turned. Whispers bloomed like gasps. The nurses paused mid-task. Eyes wide. Some froze. One dropped a clipboard. All of them stared at me like I was a creature dragged in from a battlefield.

Maybe I was.

I spotted them in the hallway, Astrid Voss and Director Thorn. They stood close, talking low, but the moment Astrid’s sharp gaze snapped in my direction, I saw her freeze. She stepped forward quickly, eyes scanning me from head to toe.

"I told you to stay put at the feral dorm," she hissed, voice tight with frustration. "What the hell happened to you?"

I stopped in front of them, breathing a little heavy. My arm throbbed from the slash. I hadn’t even looked at the wound. "Some elites attacked me on my way here," I said, keeping my voice even. "But I’m fine."

Astrid’s brows shot up. "Attacked?"

"You... killed them?" Director Thorn asked, his voice low, almost skeptical. His sharp eyes flicked to the blood dripping from my knuckles.

I didn’t answer.

Not yet.

Before the silence could deepen, a shout cut through the sterile air of the hospital corridor.

"Lorraine!!!"

My name. Twice. From two voices.

I turned, just in time to be tackled into a messy, frantic hug by Felix and Adrian. They both wrapped their arms around me like they hadn’t seen me in years, not days. I stumbled back slightly from the force of it, but I didn’t push them away.

"Gods, what happened to you?" Felix blurted, pulling back to check my face, my arms, his fingers gentle but frantic. "Are you okay? Where the hell have you been?"

"Are you bleeding," Adrian muttered, his voice rough, hands brushing over my shoulders, concern etched into his face. "Are you hurt bad?"

"I’ve missed you guys too," I muttered with a strained smile. "Relax. I’m fine."

"You’re not fine," Felix snapped softly, looking like he was about to cry. "You’re covered in blood, Lorraine."

"I’ve had worse," I said. And it was true.

Director Thorn stepped forward, watching the scene unfold like he was piecing together a puzzle he didn’t quite like the shape of. "You didn’t answer me," he said again, this time more direct. "Did you kill the elites?"

I looked him dead in the eyes.

"They gave me no choice."

For a moment, no one said anything. Not Astrid. Not Thorn. Not even Felix or Adrian.

"I need to see him, I need to see Kieran" I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper.

Astrid folded her arms. "Lorraine... he’s still unconscious."

"I don’t care," I said, stepping closer. "I need to see him."

"It’s too risky," she said flatly, her eyes sharpening. "What if he wakes up? What if he tries to hurt you again?"

"Hurt you again?" Adrian’s voice cut in, low and tight as he stepped forward and gripped my hand protectively. His brows were drawn together, his body tense. "Is he the reason you’re drenched in blood like this? Lorraine, did he do something to you?"

I looked up at him quickly and shook my head. "No. He’s not, Adrian. He didn’t do this. It’s.... it’s complicated."

"But...."

"Please," I turned to Astrid again, ignoring the twist in my chest. "I know what I’m doing. Nothing will happen again. He won’t try to hurt me. And even if he does... you’ll be right out here, won’t you?"

Astrid stared at me. Her gaze didn’t waver. She was reading everything behind my words. The fear. The defiance. The strange hope I still carried despite everything.

"You really believe that you can get through to him?" she asked quietly.

"I believe so," I said. "Something changed in him. I saw it. I felt it. He’s in there, somewhere.... and I have to try. Please, Astrid. Let me try."

She glanced at Magnus Thorn, who stood behind her silent and brooding. A moment passed. Then two.

Finally, Astrid sighed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Fine."

She stepped aside and pointed to the closed door behind her.

"He’s in there," she said. "Go ahead."

My heart thudded once, loud and deep. I nodded, then turned toward the door.

One hand reached for the knob... and the moment my fingers curled around the cold metal, I swore I felt my pulse sync with his.

Kieran.

Please be in there.

Please still be you.

I stepped inside the room and closed the door

The room was quiet, too quiet. The moment I stepped inside, the air shifted. It felt heavier here. Like the walls themselves were holding their breath.

Kieran lay on the hospital bed, completely still. His body didn’t twitch, didn’t move. His chest rose and fell in soft, measured breaths, but that was all. His skin, always pale, looked even more washed out beneath the sterile lighting. His long black hair was a dark mess over the white pillow, strands falling across his sharp cheekbones and down his neck and shoulder. It looked like a painting, something beautiful and tragic, frozen in time.

My heart slammed against my ribs as I approached him, quiet and unsure.

I pulled a stool that was beside the bed closer and slowly sat, placing my elbows on the edge of the bed, just beside him. I hadn’t even gotten the chance to really look at him when he appeared in the dorm. I’d been too busy fighting for air, for control, for survival. His wolf had been something.... monstrous. But now, with that terrifying energy gone, I could see him again.

Godess.

He was unfairly beautiful. That same cold, distant beauty that had once unnerved me now felt... familiar. And in a strange, gut-twisting way, safe.

I reached out and took his hand in both of mine. It was large, smooth and warm. Comfortingly warm.

"Can you hear me, Kieran?" I whispered, brushing my thumb gently across his knuckles. "It’s me. Lorraine."

There was no response. Not even the slightest twitch.

"I... I don’t know if you’re in there or if I’m just talking to a sleeping body right now, but.... I need you to hear me." My voice cracked. "I need you to wake up."

I tightened my grip on his hand, pressing my forehead against it.

"You scared me," I admitted, voice barely above a breath. "But I know it wasn’t you. Not really. You’re still in there. I felt it. You hesitated. You didn’t want to hurt me." My throat thickened as emotion rose. "Please. Don’t stay lost. Please come back."

A single tear slid down my cheek, landing on his wrist.

"I need you, Kieran. More than I ever thought I would. So please..." I looked at his face, memorizing every line, every sharp angle. "Please come back to me."

I stayed in silence, holding his hand like it was the only thing tethering me to this world.

And I waited.

Then I noticed a single strand... no two, two strands of his hair had fallen over his eyes, soft and black like silk. It curled slightly against his temple, and before I could stop myself, my hand reached out on its own.

I tucked the strand gently behind his ear.

My fingers paused just inches from his face, and I realized how close I was. Too close.

But I didn’t pull away.

His skin looked impossibly smooth, his cheekbones sharp but soft, his jawline carved with a kind of perfection that felt unreal. I’d never touched his face before. Never dared. But my hand moved before my thoughts could catch up.

I cupped his cheek carefully.

It was warm. Warm and solid. My palm barely covered half of it, his face much larger than mine. My thumb brushed over the edge of his jaw. He didn’t stir.

So I let my eyes linger.

His brows were naturally arched, precise like a blade’s edge, giving his sleeping face that eternal, commanding presence he always carried. His lashes.... goddess, they were long. They curved like black feathers, thick and soft against his pale skin.

And then my eyes droppsd.

His lips.

My heart stuttered in my chest.

They were full and smooth, the color of ripe plums, and slightly parted. There was a softness to them, something that made heat rush to my face and my breath hitch.

I’d never seen lips so perfect, so infuriatingly kissable.

I swallowed hard. And for one reckless, completely mad moment..... I leaned forward.

Just to look closer, I told myself. Just to breathe him in.

But I knew that was a lie.

My face hovered just above his. My breath danced against his parted lips. Every rational thought screamed for me to stop, but I couldn’t move. His scent, that addictive mixture of pine and wild rain, wrapped around me like a tether.

Just a little closer...

Then his arms moved.

Strong, sudden, unrelenting.

He wrapped one arm around my waist, the other sliding up my back in one fluid motion, and before I could even gasp, my lips crashed into his.

He was awake.

His mouth moved against mine with such intensity it stole the breath from my lungs. His grip was firm, keeping me flush against him like he never wanted to let go. I could feel every inch of his body, warm, solid, alive.

I didn’t pull away.

Not even for a second.