Cursed Lycan's Scarred Mate 소설 & 이야기

We always travel with a big group to prevent any power hungry wolves or rouges from getting any ideas since we are the most powerful kingdom of Lycans in North and South America. As Lycans we are closer to being directly descended from the Moon Goddess, so we are bigger, much stronger and faster, and we can live for hundreds of years beyond even the long life span of werewolves. Which is why when or should I say if we ever find a mate once we mark them they slowly turn into Lycan as well. Unlike werewolves we can be mated to anyone, supernatural beings or even humans, and nothing in our mates life aside from already being with a fated mate can prevent us from taking and marking them. I perso

It was us lycans who were taller and bigger. Shit, how would a little wolf like this be able to handle all of me? Could I be as rough and wild with her as I wanted, or did I have to go slow and gentle? Her breathing was fast, her chest rising and falling, drawing my eyes to her curves, the material of her clothing stretched over her. It was then that I noticed the scars on her chest and followed them down her left arm. What had done this to my little mate? If it was a person, who did I have to kill?

Yet, he did not forget his duty toward his mate and always kept her security in check, not to mention filling her with pleasures. ********* Currently, they are sharing their night. So sensitive and so loved. After coming down from their highs, Scarlett leaned into his embrace as Nicholas held her tight, Staring up at the ceiling. Scarlett noticed his heavy mood. Slowly, caressing his chest, she kissed on the naked skin. "What are you thinking?" She asked. Nicholas was silent for some time before answering, "I am a cursed Lycan..." Scarlett blinked. She sensed the off attitude of him and rolled over his chest, "Hmm, I know that."

The mate bond was the only thing a Lycan couldn’t resist. We could act like it didn’t matter, but we felt every bit of it. Every twitch in our nerves responded to our little scarred mate. I leaned against the door frame, and watched her walk further into the room, whilst my body crackled with electric sensations, it had absolutely no business having. I—we had only one mate. She was dead, and on a piece of her dress was found on the borders of an enemy pack. Nothing was more insulting than beating the pain from the loss of a mate, and worse still the said enemy was passive about it.

My protective instincts surge forth, urging me to hold her close, to shield her from further harm. The sight of dark scars that crisscross her body sends a tremor of anguish through my Lycan being. Each mark tells a story of pain and suffering, a testament to the horrors she has endured. A surge of anger rises within me, a primal rage fueled by the knowledge that no one should endure such cruelty, regardless of any crimes they may have committed. As the doctor murmurs observations, her voice laced with sympathy, I move closer, unable to resist the magnetic pull drawing me toward my mate.

He muttered, rubbing the side where the blow had landed against. “Stay away from her! You bloody bastard! I'll murder you if I catch you sneaking around Lazaro. I may be slow, you may be a hybrid, and you may be faster, but know this: I am a lycan, and she is my mate! I will not watch you this time, I promise.” I threatened, sure enough for my tone to carry finality in them, I could see he understood all I had said. and for a brief moment, his expression had cracked.

Judith jumped into the conversation as though it were indeed what we had been discussing. Dad sits on the edge of the clothing-filled couch. “It is as simple as stating. I, then your name, reject, then your mate's name, as my mate.” His saddened look forces me to question it. “Why do you look so sad?” I ask. “The fact that the two of you may have to reject your mate after finally finding them will be terrible. Hey, but if one of you rejects a Lycan, Devin is available.” His voice turns high-spirited as he looks at me with hope. “After what he pulled, no thanks. I still care, but he crossed that boundary and cannot return from it.” I huff as I pull a pile of clothes back into my closet into t

The scent of cedar and leather enveloped her, mingled with a faint hint of Lycan heritage. "Cyrus, are you hurt?" she asked, her voice labored with concern. Her nape warmed with worry. Cyrus remained motionless, his breath grazing her ear. The scent of fir wound around her senses like a vine. Could it be that he had been kicked by the horse during their tumble? But he belonged to Mandala and possessed a powerful Lycan bloodline—how could he be injured so easily? Patience, driven by instinct, wanted to check for injuries.

“She was the Lycan’s mate… his bride. She was murdered by demons during the Dark Rise.” My heart clenched. “He never got over her,” she added, backing away. “Be careful.” And with that, she was gone. I stood there, frozen. His mate. His first love. Killed. And he’d been carrying that grief in silence… for how long? I exhaled shakily, my chest tight. He must’ve loved her so much… My wolf growled low within me, like she had something to say. “Vivian, what is it?” I asked silently.

What’s going on with her? It’s close to a week now since DeLorna last saw him. She’s been asking questions about creatures like him, and just two days ago she learnt he was not a wolf but a lycanthrope. No wonder he made a statement on the first night they met, “I ain’t a wolf.” DeLorna also went ahead making research about how Lycans communicate with their mates, and she’s been trying the mind-link method since the day of her discovery. “ Urgh, fu*king answer me. “ She opened her eyes. “ Guess that’s only for the wolves.” She sighed in defeat.