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Author: Momo
last update Last Updated: 2025-04-11 02:35:17

Lusia

I stepped further into the room, my bare feet brushing against the smooth tile, every movement slow, hesitant. The air was thick with something unspoken, an unnamed tension crackling between us like the air before a storm. King Dane stood just ahead of me, his broad shoulders stiff, his presence magnetic.

Then, she appeared.

Kiara stepped out of the walk-in closet, a chocolate cake delicately balanced in her hands, her brown eyes alight with something unreadable. She was wearing nothing but sheer black lingerie, the lace barely concealing the curves of her body, as if she had been waiting—planning—for this exact moment.

A sharp sting lanced through my chest, and my breath caught in my throat. I felt like an intruder, an unwelcome guest in a moment that was never meant for me. Was it foolish of me to think Dane and I shared something real? Had he even found the time to reconcile with his fiancée?

I was confused by the drama that unfolded before me. What was Kiara doing there? She
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  • The Lycan King’s Playtoy   Epilogue

    LusiaJust like an altar of sacrifice, the Silvermoon battleground had fallen into desolation. The blood-spattered earth was left scarred and silent as the crimson light of dawn faded into an all—too—pale and mournful gray. Bodies lay scattered: Lycans and werewolves, their eyes staring blankly, blood pooling in mud: testimony to the brutal toll war has taken. The air was heady; the metallic tang of death, the acrid burn of spent silver, and the lingering musk of fear, all combined as one intense reality. My white wolf had receded, leaving me human, tremulous, bloodied skin fraying from a once proud torn tunic, dark curls matted against a face streaked with tears. He wrapped his arms around me as if I were somehow anchored by his warmth; his icy blue eyes were guilty and relieved, Kiara's body between us, Finn's brown wolf a still shadow in the distance. My heart was a shattered mosaic; grief for my brother, but rage directed at Kiara and the truth about my parents' death, an unreso

  • The Lycan King’s Playtoy   171

    LusiaThe Silvermoon battlefield was a crucible of despair, its churned earth a bloody quagmire, laden with shattered blades and broken bodies, while the dawn’s crimson light cast a gory veil over the slaughter. My white wolf form trembled, my fur matted with blood and mud, my muscles screaming from the pain of war, my hazel eyes burning with tears. The metallic luster of blood mingling with the hissing sound of liquid silver, the wild musk of clashing Lycans and werewolves, thickened the air. The memories of my brother Finn lying lifeless, his brown wolf form sprawled out, Dane's claws dripping with his blood, rent my heart into shreds—a wound deeper than any blade. The sound of Dane's scream of rage and guilt still echoed, a raw reflection of my grief, but I stood frozen, panting in my white wolf form, my blurred vision revealing a memory of the brother who had called me whore but was nevertheless my blood. A jagged, cruel laugh cut through the chaos, and Kiara emerged from the f

  • The Lycan King’s Playtoy   170

    DaneThe battle at the Silvermoon lasted at the end of the frontier where this battlefield was a charnel house, a bloody churned earth strewn with broken bodies and shattered blades at dawn's crimson light bathing this hellish carnage. Finn lunged with his brown wolf, massive and snarling; a blur of fur and fangs as I braced myself against his weight slamming me to the ground, causing my ribs to explode in pain at claws raking my side, tearing through my tunic, hot blood welling. The damp earth was cold against my back, stealing my breath at the impact, green eyes blazing above me with a growl like thunder shaking my bones. Luisa's cry echoed somewhere in that fray, a knife in my heart, but I could not see her. My world narrowed down to Finn's jaws snapping mere inches from my throat.Rage surged inside me, molten tide drowning the pain, my wolf roaring within, claws scraping at my restraint. I snarled, my body rippling, bones cracking as I shapeshifted, fur black and thick, my Lyca

  • The Lycan King’s Playtoy   169

    DaneI can hear the peaceful sounds of dawn over the Silvermoon Pack territory. It was torn like an injury, crying out into a blue sky bleeding crimson and gold. Jagged shadows stretched over broken, savage borderlands. Our small group of elite-only ten warriors, all Ironclaw Lycans hardened and silent, trekked through those frost-kissed woods; breaths steaming in the chill air, the scent of pine and damp earth sharp in my nostrils. Luisa was next to me, her gray cloak hugging her tiny body, dark curls spilling outside its hood; hazel eyes held a haunted determination. My wolf growled within me, a restless beast torn between pride in her courage, and dread at facing Finn, her brother, and Kiara, the architect of our chaos. The weight of my guilt, her parents' blood, and my failed attempt at killing Finn tore at me like a stone in my gut, but I managed to keep my eyes forward. My black tunic and armor became a second skin; my sword was heavy at my hip.We entered the clearing where li

  • The Lycan King’s Playtoy   168

    KiaraThe courtroom of Silvermoon Pack was a fantastic catheter of all deceits—high vaulted ceilings were lost in the shadows, moonlight came through narrow arched windows, and brushed silver lances across a polished marble floor. The tapestries were designed to hang on the walls—sharp snarling wolves—woven in threads of crimson and gold. The last secret-filled air was heavy with the scents of wax-dripping candelabras and the faint musky tang of Lycan tension. I paced before the dais, my boots clicking like a metronome of dread, my dark braid swinging against my leather-clad back, my red eyes darting to the shadows as if Dane's wrath might materialize from them. While my essence usually stormed with all kinds of domination, it flickered right now with panic, rather than an uncommon crack in the usually unbreakable armor, because I failed. The plan had been assault—intense because it was meant to erode the Ironclaw. Finn was splayed across his throne: an amazing edifice made of car

  • The Lycan King’s Playtoy   167

    Lusia Huddled against the damp stone walls, the healer's room lay cocooned in heat and shade, the lantern's swaying golden glow casting our entwined silhouettes across the still air of the damp walls as if we were ghosts locked in a frantic dance. Dane's lips, rough and unyielding, had claimed mine with an intensity that left me breathless, the pheromones a wild musky tide yet still lingering in the air, mingled with the sharp tang of herbs and the faint copper of battlefield blood on his tunic. My body was burning, the heat of my cycle with its relentless pulse, but his kiss—warm, desperate, was pouring his guilt and need into me, and it held me fast and unmoored me. Now, he's pulled back, his icy blue eyes, breath ragged, overblown by his towering frame across the cot where I lay, torn tunic clinging to my sweat-damp skin, dark curls spilling across the coarse linen. "How do you feel?" he asked, voice low, rough—the gravel thread is woven with that thickest concern and the sharp

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