The stolen lycan princess

*Dust* The howl of the pack towards the moon pierces the night, a haunting serenade that sends chills racing down my spine. I freeze mid-scrub, the tattered rag slipping from my fingers and splashing into the murky water of the big bucket. The sound is familiar, one I dread yet crave, deep in my bones. It calls to something primal within me, I had hoped to join them when i turned eighteen, but it has been ten months now, and I am still wolfless. “Dust!” The shrill voice of Madeline, the pack’s Luna, slices through the tension. “Are you daydreaming again? Get back to work!” Swallowing my pride, I force myself to focus on the task at hand. I scrub the floor of the great hall, my knees aching against the rough stone, the chill of the night seeping into my bones. The hall is vast and imposing, its high ceilings adorned with chandeliers made of antlers and the walls hung with tattered banners that tell tales of glory and conquest from the past. I often find myself lost in those stories

*Dust* The grip on my arm loosens, but I don’t dare move. I can feel the heat radiating from River Tempest, the Alpha of the Silverfang pack, as he stands before me, a force of nature that commands both awe and fear. His presence is electric, igniting something deep within me, a spark I didn’t know existed. I can’t understand it; I shouldn’t feel this way. I’m just Dust, the servant of a pack that barely acknowledges my existence. But here, standing before this warrior Alpha, I feel seen. “Let her go,” he repeats, and his voice is a growl, low and menacing. The warriors holding me exchange uneasy glances, their bravado faltering under the weight of his authority. I can see the doubt flickering in their eyes, the realization that they are no longer in control. “You can’t seriously mean this dirty little creature is you mate, Alpha,” one of them retorts, attempting to inject mockery into his voice, but there’s an edge of fear lacing it. River’s gaze hardens, and I can see the muscle

*Dust* I brace myself for the worst, my heart pounding in my ears as I close my eyes, surrendering to the inevitable. But just as I feel the rogue’s breath on my skin, the weight on my chest suddenly vanishes. I gasp, my eyes flying open to see a magnificent wolf, its fur shimmering silver under the moonlight, clamping its powerful jaws around the rogue’s neck. The rogue howls in rage, caught off guard as the wolf drags him away from me, throwing him against a nearby tree with a sickening thud. I scramble backward, shock and disbelief coursing through me. The wolf stands tall and poised, its eyes burning with fierce determination, and I can hardly comprehend what’s happening. Is this real? Is this another trick of my mind? The rogue recovers quickly, shaking off the initial shock. He lunges again, snarling, but the wolf is faster. It dodges to the side, muscles coiling with precision. I watch, breathless, as the wolf counters, snapping its jaws just inches from the rogue’s face. T

*Dust* I'm floating in a void, a haze of warmth and darkness surrounding me, but there's something pulling at the edges of my consciousness. A voice. Familiar yet distant. I struggle to grasp it, to hold onto it, but it slips through my fingers like water. “Stay with me, Dust.” I want to respond, to tell him I’m here, that I’m fighting, but my body feels heavy, anchored to the bed beneath me. I can’t open my eyes. I can’t even feel my limbs. I’m trapped in this strange limbo, suspended between life and whatever comes next. The voice continues, soft and urgent, and it makes my heart ache. “You’re safe now. We’re home, your new home.” Home. The word resonates deep within me, a beacon of hope in the darkness. But then, another voice breaks through, sharp and mocking, slicing through the fragile cocoon of safety I’ve wrapped myself in. I think I might be asleep, or fully unconscious for a while, because when I register something again it is new voices. “I can’t believe the Alp

*Dust* I struggle against the suffocating weight pressed against my face, panic clawing at my insides. My heart races, thundering against my ribcage as I flail my arms wildly. My fingers brush against something sharp on the bedside table… a pen, maybe? A shard of glass? I don’t care; I just need to escape this prison of softness. Grasping the object, I swing it blindly, adrenaline pumping through my veins like fire. I feel a sudden resistance, then a scream pierces the haze, high and panicked, echoing in the confines of my mind. The pressure on my face loosens, and I gasp for air, drawing in the sweet, life-giving oxygen that feels like a gift after the suffocation. I see a figure dart away, their shadow disappearing into the doorway, and I’m left trembling in the dim light of the room. My heart thuds erratically as I sit up, my mind racing to process what just happened. Who attacked me? Why? My fingers tremble around the makeshift weapon as I glance around, desperate for answers