Novel & Cerita My Personal Lycan King

Alsie POV- We were laughing and goofing around in the bed, blowing off some steam, and having some much-needed conversations. It was nice. “Dante, tell us about the Lycan King.” I said as I looked over my shoulder at Dante behind me. “Ok. The Lycan King’s name is Declan; he has one heir to date. Declan is 1301 years old and he became the Lycan King when he was 518 years old. He’s a young king, he took the throne from King Liam by force, at the time King Liam was only 2276 years old and he was the youngest king ever. Declan has no mate; his single heir was born out of wedlock and mate bond. In fact, Dec didn’t even know he had an heir until recently.”

The symbols blazed—gold and silver, brighter than the torches, brighter than the fires. "You are not welcome here," I said. "Leave Blackwood territory. Take your army back to the mountains. Go back to the darkness. Or die." The king laughed. It was a hollow sound, empty of warmth, bouncing off the walls of the pavilion. "You cannot kill me," he said. "I am the first Lycan king. I was born from the shadow before the first wolf learned to walk. I am the hunger that never ends. I am the darkness that existed before your bloodline, before the packs, before the world knew light."

'The king' Aurora growls, the one behind not only all of this, but the pain of wolves spanning life times. The lycan king is over a hundred and fifty years old, stories have always circulated that he accesses dark magic to continue not only his life but his reign. He is the most power hungry, ruthless person in the history books. Cole growls beside me, his teeth shining as he eyes off the king, not liking the way he is watching me.

“I’m here to talk about the one living in this packhouse.” Greg sighed deeply, he knew where this conversation was going. He massaged his temples and looked at the old man with a pained expression “And what about her?” The old man narrowed his eyes “She’s just a normal wolf, Your Majesty. She shouldn't be here.” Greg’s jaw clenched. He’d known there would be complaints, but he hadn’t expected the elders to confront him directly. He was the king, and what he said went. “I’m the Lycan King,” Greg said, his voice hard but steady. “I can invite anyone I want to join this pack.”

"I'm not going to be ready. Ever." I swallowed hard, wrapping my arms around myself. "I don't know you." "My name is Zander Cane," he said simply. The name hit me like a cold wave. Zander Cane. I had heard that name before. Everyone in every pack had heard that name. The Lycan King. Alpha of the Silver Moon Pack, the most powerful, most feared, most respected pack in the entire country. My legs almost gave out from under me. "You're..." I blinked. "You're the lycan king?"

Nothing could have prepared me for this life; if anyone had told me this was what would happen to me a week ago, I would have laughed bitterly to their face. But here I am now. I'm being priced like an animal in an auction house, and only Moon knows where. "Sold to the gentleman in the back for 70 million dollars!" The auctioneer points to me. No matter how much I repeated to myself, this was just a bad nightmare; I just couldn’t wake up from it. Was this my life now? I have just been sold to the Lycan king. .•.•.• I tried To close my eyes and picture myself back in my pack, safe and happy just like I used to be, but I couldn’t go back to that now .not after what Damon had done.

Maverick scoffed at her question. Mya rolled her eyes at him. "Calm down, Maverick. She's not the cause of your bitterness." With a sweet smile plastered on her face, she turned back to Cinnia. "Denzel is our Lycan King. The blood demons are the ones to be terrified at what he'll do to them." Cinnia's tense shoulders relaxed and she breathed out a sigh. "Are you happy, Cinnia Ramilek?" Maverick asked, his stare boring into her soul through the rearview mirror.

Whatever waited beyond the southern borders, whatever new challenge eventually arrived to test everything we'd built together, I understood, standing there in the warm glow of a hard-won peace, that we'd face it exactly the way we'd faced everything since that very first night. Chosen. Together. However many times, however many crises, however many old grievances and ancient threats and scattered bloodlines still waited beyond the borders we understood. I hadn't broken, that first night in the Great Hall. I'd found, instead, exactly the life worth building — one choice, renewed daily, at a time. END OF BOOK ONE (The Lycan King's story continues in Book Two: Kingdom of the Southern Fires)

The nobles parted instantly, whispering behind gloved hands, watching closely as everything unfolded. I stood frozen beside the marble pillar, the pressure of his aura pressing down on my shoulders until my joints popped. Up close, he smelled entirely of power and frost. He looked down at me, his eyes flashing a brief dangerous streak of Lycan gold. There was no warmth there, no recognition of the sacred bond currently sewing our souls together. There was only a king protecting his borders, he needed Anya’s eastern warriors to survive the brewing war on his south side. He wasn't going to let a nameless omega ruin his empire.

“Let me introduce you to King Alaric Anjou the Third. The King of all humans, werewolves, and magical creatures alike.” I nodded slowly, tracing the lines of the drawing. He looked so much like Lucien it made my skin crawl. “So he’s of French stock, too?” I asked, trying to keep my voice casual while admiring the picture. “Is that all you have to say?” Vivienne asked, her tone dripping with disappointment. “What did you want me to say?” I shot back. “I don't know—show that you're impressed! I just found out that the entity inside of you slept with the Lycan King himself. I cracked the code, Seraphina!” She threw her hands up in the air as if she had just won a marathon.