Novelas y relatos de Claimed By The Fallen King

Within seconds, the entire gathering had lowered themselves before her. Bella stared. The young warrior who had summoned her stepped forward. “My lady,” he said, his voice trembling, “the people have chosen.” Bella shook her head. “Chosen what?” The warrior lifted his face. “We have no king.” A murmur passed through the crowd. “King Stark is hunting us.” Another voice shouted, “The Supreme Council has fallen!” Someone else cried, “The palace belongs to the rogues!” The words struck Bella one after another. This was bigger than Dave.

And in the middle of it all stood Theoreon. For a heartbeat longer, the Lycan King remained upright, his chest rising and falling slowly as though his body was still forcing itself to breathe through sheer will alone. Blood dripped steadily from the claws that had just torn through two enemies, each crimson drop striking the floor with a quiet sound that echoed louder than it should have in the silence. Then his legs gave out. His body collapsed forward. The heavy thud of his fall echoed through the room as the king who had refused to kneel finally hit the ground.

Around him voices rise - shouts, then cries - as the Chancellor's voice cracks calling for healers. Fallen now lies the crown's holder. Falling apart at the top, that's where things stand now. A lone figure, Paige waits at the foot of the throne, gripping a map streaked with the King's blood along one rim.

“Aveline. What does this mean.” I stepped closer. Magic hummed beneath my skin. The crown brightened. “It means,” I whispered, “he is reaching out directly. He is calling to me.” Cold settled across the field. The crown pulsed once. Then twice. Then shattered into thousands of whispering flakes that filled the air with one final message. “The king falls.” The last flake drifted to my palm and melted. I stared at the empty space where the crown had been, heart pounding. And the snow began falling again.

The fucking meeting I was heading for wasn't scheduled or called by me which only meant I didn't have to go. I held the door of the car for a few seconds then I let go of it, and backed away. “Send message to them. I'll reschedule the meeting.” I said, and headed back into the mansion. I had no idea who I was meeting with, or what the meeting was about which was even more reason to call it off. I am the king of the Mafia, I should call every damn meeting, and not the other way round. Back inside the building, I headed straight for my bedroom and dropped off my briefcase and my suit jacket, then I headed for the part of the mansion where Emma was located.

And it was driving him toward something he could no longer stop. Kael slowly straightened, his gaze turning toward the dark horizon beyond the palace walls. His eyes burned with something no longer cold. Something alive. Something dangerous. Something that had nothing to do with kingship… And everything to do with claiming what he had just lost. The broken armrest crumbled slightly beneath his grip. And for the first time since the rejection. Kael did not look like a king in control. He looked like a man about to start a war.

"Is it... over?" "It's over," I promised. But as I said the words, a shadow fell over the ruins. It wasn't the Shop. It wasn't the Archivist. It was the King’s Army. At the edge of the ruins, thousands of Southern soldiers were appearing through the dust. They hadn't come to help. They had seen the North fall from the sky and then crash back into the earth. They had seen the magic fail. And at the head of the army, riding a white charger, was King Alaric.

The First King. "My heir." The baby responded. The golden light exploded. And this time, the voice inside my mind wasn't afraid. It was angry. "You are not my king." The ground went silent. Kael stared at me. Selene covered her mouth. Elara fell to her knees. Then the voice inside my womb spoke one final time. "Father is my king." Kael's eyes widened. The black mark on his chest shattered. And every ancient warrior in the ruined Bloodmoon fortress bowed to him. The First King had lost his claim.

I ask walking closer to him, pressing my sword on his chest. "I regret nothing!" He seethes out, struggling against his captor. I chuckle and with a smirk, I pierce my sword through his cold, stone heart. I clean his blood off with my clean hands and there from his stiffed, dead body I take the crown of his head and place it on mine. That's the last thing he'll ever see, my hands bloodied, so much that it drips down all the way to my elbow as I take his crown and my rightful place as the long-lost forgotten king. This does bring a smile to my face.

Suddenly a voice rang out. “MAJOR General HENRY PLEASE STOP, I AM THE MAN IN RULE IN THE Citadel. I HAVE CREATED THE PRINCESS AND THE PRINCIPLE HAS eloped. WE DON'T WANT WAR, PLEASE STOP. HE HAS RECEIVED ONE, AND I WILL GIVE THE KING TO HIM, UP TO HIM.” “I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU SAY, TODAY STEPHAN KINGDOM WILL BE FUCKED, NO MORE LIKE A KINGDOM. THROW!!!"