Semua Bab The Lycan Prince's Blood : Bab 41 - Bab 50

Nana and Lowell revel in their bliss, despite knowing danger lurks behind them. The forest around them is quiet, but their world is filled with soft laughter, stolen kisses, and whispered promises. For the first time, Nana feels free. Even lying on the rough ground, draped over Lowell’s body, she has never felt more at peaceLowell’s hand moves lazily down her back, his fingers tracing invisible patterns on her skin.“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against her temple.Nana smiles, shifting so she can look at him. “Even covered in dirt?”He chuckles, rolling her onto her back. “Especially like this.”She laughs, pulling him down for another kiss. It’s deep, slow, intoxicating“You know we’re in the middle of the fucking woods, right?” she murmurs, pressing her lips against his jaw.Lowell smirks, running a lazy hand down her back. “And?”“And maybe this isn’t exactly the best place to be acting like two lovesick fools,” she teases, her fingers tracing the hard lines o

Marco’s fingers dig deep into Nana’s skin, bruising her throat, closing his fingers as tight as it will go around her neck. As he looks at the mark on her neck, rage and frustration burns in his face. He has his nose bleeding again, a thick, black line from his nostril to his upper lip. Cursing under his breath, he swipes it away with the back of his hand.The Lycan covers his mate in his scent to keep her away from other men, if any tries to go close, their nose bleeds. Marco knows but he doesn’t care.“Fucking bitch,” he snarls, shaking her. “You think that fucking Lycan means shit? You think you’re not mine anymore?”Nana doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t even blink. She stares up at the ceiling, her face blank, her body still.Marco’s lip curls. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”Nothing.He slaps her, hard. Her head snaps to the side, her cheek stinging red, but she doesn’t react. She doesn’t cry, doesn’t scream, and doesn’t beg. Just stare at nothing.His jaw tightens. His pulse po

Nana stumbles into her room; every cell in her body aches, and her brain is hazy with tiredness. Each step feels as if she's dragging behind her a hundred pounds. With barely the door closed, she sees Felicia sitting on the edge of the bed, her face buried in her hands, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.Felicia's been sobbing-not crying-for the past few hours. She got back from the packhouse a little while ago. News travels fast in this hellhole, and she must have heard the rest.The moment Felicia lifts her head and sees Nana, she gasps, eyes red and swollen. "Oh, my child..." Her voice threatens to break as she rushes towards Nana and grips her hands with her frail fingers shaking. "Why... why didn't you tell me?"Nana hardly has the energy to respond. Straighten up for a while.Felicia does not ask any further questions. She pulls her to the bathroom and tears off the blood-soaked rags from her closet. The icy water strikes Nana's skin as a slap, but she does not budge. She just

Melissa wakes up to the muffled whispers and shuffling feet around her. She blinks, adjusting to the dim light of the packhouse infirmary. Marco sits beside her, his face hard, arms crossed over his chest. The moment her eyes flutter open, his head snaps toward her."You’re awake," he mutters, standing abruptly. "Took your fucking time."Melissa inhales sharply, milking the moment. Her hand drifts to her stomach, and she lets out a shaky breath, making sure her voice is weak. "The baby... is my baby okay?"Marco's jaw ticks. "The healer said you're fine. But what the fuck happened?"Melissa exhales, her eyes flickering with hesitation—just enough to make it believable. She shifts slightly, adjusting her position as if in discomfort."It was Nana," she whispers.The words hang in the air like poison. Marco’s entire body goes still, his expression darkening.Melissa lets her eyes water, forcing a tremor into her voice. "I—I told her I was pregnant. I thought she should know… I was tryin

The packhouse remains a battlefield, but Nana is no warrior. Not in their eyes.She is the weak one, the outcast, the mistake that never should have survived.Every corridor she walks through feels like a gauntlet. Wolves shove past her without a second thought, their shoulders knocking against hers with deliberate force. They don’t look back. They don’t acknowledge her as anything more than a stain beneath their feet.The whispers never stop.They slither through the air like poison, wrapping around her throat, sinking into her skin.Thief. Traitor. Worthless.She should be used to it by now.At first, she tried to fight back—tried to hold her head high, to meet their sneers with defiance. But defiance is a luxury she cannot afford. The moment she showed even a sliver of resistance, the cruelty doubled, sharpened into something uglier.So, she learned.She learned to stay quiet. To keep her head down. To make herself small, insignificant, invisible.But no matter how much she tries t