Chapter 262: Chapter 262: Is She Afraid of Him?
Not knowing how much time had passed, the sky grew darker, especially in the dense forest, where the thin light was almost gone.
Ann Vaughn was momentarily dazed by the darkness before her eyes. Suddenly, she stepped into thin air, and her whole body uncontrollably tumbled down a slope!
"Ah!"
A slope over a meter high might not be perilous, but falling without any warning nearly fractured Ann Vaughn’s ankle.
Her delicate brows knitted tightly; she didn’t even have the strength to cry out in pain. Her bright eyes drooped wearily as she looked at the swelling on her ankle, biting her teeth hard.
Already injured all over, her situation worsened, leaving her with no energy to even consider running away.
Ann Vaughn leaned weakly against a stone at the edge of the slope to rest, waiting for her strength to return before continuing on.
But when she raised her head to check her surroundings, her bright eyes unexpectedly met a pair of glowing red ones.
In such a dark night, they were especially conspicuous, with an indescribable chilling horror.
In an instant, cold sweat broke out on Ann Vaughn’s back.
"Awoo——" The howling of wolves seemed to enclose her from all directions.
Especially as those wolf eyes drew closer, Ann Vaughn’s blood seemed to freeze suddenly; she couldn’t move a muscle.
Moonlight streamed into the woods, and using this bit of light, Ann Vaughn finally saw the scene in front of her clearly.
A brown wolf stood less than three meters away, circling in place, its fierce eyes fixed on her,
as if at any moment it might pounce and use its gleaming fangs to snap her neck!
Ann Vaughn widened her eyes, sticky sweat continuously washing over her cheeks, yet she seemed to have lost her voice, unable to utter a sound!
Escaped the tiger’s den, only to fall into the wolf’s lair.
Which deity had she managed to offend?
An untold number of thoughts flashed through Ann Vaughn’s mind, but the more urgent the situation was, the less her mind could focus on the crucial points.
At this moment, the wolf suddenly stopped circling, bared its ferocious maw, and lunged towards her!
Ann Vaughn was so stiff she couldn’t summon the energy to close her eyes, helplessly watching the wolf’s jaws approach her face!
"Whoosh—"
A piercing sound sliced through the air past Ann Vaughn’s ear, "Pfft," and pierced into the wolf’s left eye!
The fetid blood splattered instantly onto Ann Vaughn’s face and clothes. Her eyes wide open, she watched the wolf’s fangs narrowly miss her.
All the tautness in her body abruptly released, making her fall backward.
Only she didn’t land in the dirt but was caught by a pair of warm hands, supporting all her weight.
Startled, Ann Vaughn jerked her head around.
There appeared the familiar, sharp-featured face with cold eyes. His thin lips were slightly pursed, emanating an intimidating aura.
Like a god descending from heaven.
Cyrus Hawthorne casually removed his windbreaker and draped it over Ann Vaughn’s head, his voice low and deep as he instructed, "Close your eyes. Leave this to me."
A bit dazed, Ann Vaughn found her head covered by his coat until a sharp wolf howl outside brought her back, prompting her to peek out from under the coat.
She saw Cyrus Hawthorne’s agile form like a phantom behind the wolf, the black dagger in his hand unhesitatingly slitting the wolf’s throat!
In an instant, blood sprayed, and the wolf howls turned into wails, all ending beneath the black dagger.
Ann Vaughn’s pupils shrank, reflecting the man’s tall and noble silhouette, yet those deep, dark eyes were filled with an insatiable bloodthirsty intent.
This side of Cyrus Hawthorne, Ann Vaughn had never seen before.
The black dagger in Cyrus Hawthorne’s hand still dripped with blood. Without averting his gaze, he stepped over the wolf’s corpse, walking straight towards Ann Vaughn.
Kneeling on one knee before her, Cyrus aimed to lift her off the ground, only for her to shudder all over and recoil.
As if resisting this version of him.
Those bright eyes, speckled with starlight, were full of fear and dread, glaringly causing a sharp ache in Cyrus Hawthorne’s heart.
She... was afraid of him?
The light in Cyrus Hawthorne’s eyes suddenly dimmed. He tossed aside the black dagger without hesitation, his lips curving slightly yet cautiously, worried about causing aversion in front of her.
"I’m covered in blood. I really shouldn’t have tried to hold you."
"Just, don’t be afraid of me."
His voice was extremely low and gentle in the dark and quiet forest, as if afraid of scaring her off, unbelievably gentle.
Especially at this moment, kneeling on one knee before her, like a king from a medieval castle.
Willing to kneel, but because she was the only princess he ever desired.
Ann Vaughn’s eyes slowly regained focus; for some reason, her nose tingled at the sight of his bloodstained white shirt.
"Are you hurt?" she sniffed, her eyes reddening, looking as pitiful as an injured fawn.
Seeing her seemingly recovering, Cyrus Hawthorne inwardly sighed with relief, a hint of a smile hidden in his eyes, "It’s not my blood, it’s the wolf’s."
Ann Vaughn thought of the wolf earlier, and the hair on her back almost stood up again.
She tried to stand but found herself utterly without strength, weak and helpless.
She could only extend a hand to Cyrus Hawthorne, utterly forgetting her earlier resistance, willfully demanding, "Carry me up."
Cyrus Hawthorne’s lips curved, reaching through her underarms and beneath her knees, easily lifting her horizontally.
Even though he moved gently, it still tugged at her injuries, causing her to hiss in pain.
This sound instantly made Cyrus Hawthorne’s expression turn cold. Catching sight of the disordered bloodstains beneath her coat, his eyes darkened sharply, a fierce anger emerging.
The next moment, he fiercely pulled Ann Vaughn closer against him, as if wishing to merge her into his bones, enveloping her in intense fury and lingering fear.
Thankfully.
Thankfully, she was alright.
Though his actions were vigorous, they strangely didn’t cause her any pain.
The cool, crisp scent unique to Cyrus Hawthorne filled Ann Vaughn’s nostrils, her cheeks forced against his tense chest, and somehow she froze, forgetting to resist.
Perhaps it was just narrowly escaping death, leaving her with no strength to resist his actions.
Just then, the sound of wolves howling approached from a distance.
"Wolf packs usually don’t act alone. I feel like they’re coming." Ann Vaughn couldn’t help but clutch Cyrus Hawthorne’s lapel.
"Let’s get out of here." Cyrus Hawthorne held the small figure in his arms tighter and left swiftly.
Yet wolves, sensitive to scent, seemed to streak through the forest like wind, and in the blink of an eye, five wolves surrounded Ann Vaughn and Cyrus Hawthorne.
Two of the wolves lunged forward suddenly, their fangs glinting coldly, refusing to rest until they tore their prey apart.