04 The Lycan King

Maren

The lights cut out the instant the King yelled, plunging the room into total darkness. Chaos broke out immediately — every breeder scrambled for the door, and I was caught in the stampede, knocked to the ground and stepped on as the others clawed their way out.

By the time I got back to my feet and fumbled blindly toward the exit, it was already too late: I heard the lock catch from the outside. I was trapped.

Alone in the pitch black, my fear curdled into a breakdown. Back pressed to the cold metal door, I cried and cursed every decision that had brought me to this moment — the marking that never happened, Julian, the truck, all of it.

I realized I'd almost hoped my weight would disqualify me from the King's interest tonight. Now, faced with whatever was actually in this room with me, I'd take that humiliation over this in a heartbeat.

Because I wasn't alone. I could sense another presence in the dark, and my mind jumped to the only explanation that made sense to me — a rogue must have gotten in.

The impossibility of that only sharpened my panic instead of easing it. I stayed frozen against the door, trying to make myself small, and slowly my eyes adjusted enough to make out a shape: something huge, with eyes glowing red, groaning low in a way I couldn't tell was agony or hunger. I could see it drooling.

I couldn't catch my breath. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat as I begged, voice breaking, for the creature to stay back.

"P-please," I whimpered. "I don't want to die. Please stay away — I won't fight you, I swear. Just leave me alone. I can go back to my pack, you never have to see me again. Please."

My plea trailed off into a terrified moan as the beast continued to approach me, slow, deliberate, drawing out my fear with every step. I was too paralyzed to move. I couldn't look away from the eyes that glowed red in the darkness, from the teeth glinting, from the drool dripping down its muzzle.

Then it suddenly closed the distance so fast that I flinched sideways; I slammed face-first into a support pole. The impact was brutal enough to daze me instantly — a flash of blinding pain, my vision tunnelling and blurring at the edges.

I went down, knees buckling out from under me, head spinning so violently I thought I'd vomit. But before I could even get my bearings, I was looking up at the wolf looming over me. This was it. This was how I died.

I knew it, knew this was the end. I'd thought Julian breaking my heart was going to kill me, but it was going to be this monster, this beast, this—

A whine. Softer than a howl, a keening sound I couldn't place. It pressed its head against me, nuzzling, almost... gentle? And let out another whine that sounded less like a predator and more like something in pain — like it might be crying.

The confusion broke through my haze of terror for half a second, long enough for me to realize it hadn't struck. It still had me pinned under it, still could kill me with one bite, but it was just...

Just nuzzling me. Whining softly, pressing its face against mine. It was a strange sensation, both soothing and terrifying at once.

I was too far gone to make sense of it. I was too far gone. The head injury had my vision blurring and tunneling at the edges, my mind slipping into oblivion. I lost consciousness with the image of the wolf hovering over me, unresolved, my last thought a bewildered—

But why?

* * *

My mind returned slowly, in flashes, images blurring into each other as I tried to piece together what had happened.

I remembered darkness, and eyes glowing red in the dark. I remembered the sound of a wolf whining, nuzzling me. I remembered the smell of wet fur, and something else, something human.

That smell brought my mind back into sharp focus, because it was here, under my nose, pressed against my cheek. I was being cradled, I realized, my head pillowed on a broad bare chest.

My breath caught, and my heart started to pound as I realized the truth — I wasn't lying in my own bed, and the body I was snuggled up against wasn't a wolf at all. It was a man.

Slowly, so slowly, I tilted my head up to look at his face. Even in sleep, his features were sharp, aristocratic. High cheekbones, a straight nose, full lips parted slightly in unconsciousness. It took me a heartbeat to recognize him, and then my blood ran cold.

I was in the arms of the Alpha King.

The same man who'd left me for dead in the dark, who'd made no effort to save me from a rogue wolf. The same man who had been so angry he'd had me locked in the dark with a wolf I'd thought would eat me alive.

I was in the arms of the monster who ran this place, this palace where women were stolen away from their packs to be used and discarded.

The Monster…

Fuck! I looked back at him, watching his face. Something about him felt terrifyingly familiar.

He's the rogue wolf!

Fear gripped me; I immediately tried to pull back from him, but he was too heavy, too big for me to budge. I was trapped. And as I watched, I realized he was about to wake up, too — his eyelids fluttering, brow furrowing.

I had to get out of here. I had to get out now, before he woke and realized where I was — before he realized what I'd seen, that he'd lost control of his wolf.

I had to escape.

* * *