Page 39 of Tears of Revenge

He stepped up behind her, resting his chin on her shoulder while his arms wrapped around her waist. “You are aware that he wanted it to happen, right? He wouldn’t have come after you if he hadn’t wanted to feel your fangs in his neck.”

She wouldn’t admit that he was probably right. The act still felt wrong.

“You don’t need to feel bad for him. After all, you gave him exactly what he asked for.”

“I’m still going to bring him the sandwiches.”

Marcus chuckled, throat vibrating against her shoulder. “Maybe if you keep spoiling him like this, he’ll let you feed on him more often.”

She took a step away, and Marcus let her move. Taking the plate, her eyes fell on Varos—when had he gotten there?

“Take this,” he said, handing her a full glass of blood

Though the thought of drinking it still disgusted her, she would have it regardless. She took the glass and walked back to her room, where she found Lysander still sitting in the chair. He had his head leaned back and his eyes closed, his lips no longer in a lazy smile.

“You should eat,” she whispered.

Lysander opened his eyes, his cold gaze meeting hers. It was a vast difference from the adoring looks they’d shared moments ago. Finally, he took the plate and placed it on his lap.

She sat on the bed across from him with her glass in her hands. “Can I ask you something?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“Are you just going to ask something, or do you expect an answer as well?”

“I would like an answer, but that is up to you.”

Finishing off the first sandwich, he nodded.

“What are you? I mean you’re not a vampire like Varos and Marcus.”

“And you.”

She wasn’t sure why, but his words stung. “And me.”

“I’m a lycan.”

“So, a werewolf?”

“No.”

She bit her lip—carefully this time—and wasn’t sure if she could push further without upsetting him. Once the plate was empty, he set it aside and relaxed into the chair.

“Werewolves were created by my kind. They are humans that voluntarily shift into wolves. And though they are much stronger than humans and larger than actual wolves, they are nothing compared to my kind.”

The arrogance in his voice made her uncomfortable. It was as if werewolves didn’t deserve the thought.

“Lycans are beasts, hidden like a wolf in a sheep’s skin. We look like humans, can learn to adapt to their culture, move and speak like them. But when the full moon rises, we leave nothing but dead bodies in our wake. Only the strongest of them survive and become our wolf slaves.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but Lysander continued.

“At least, that’s how it used to be when the legend of our existence spread, and the myths of our kind had their roots. We reigned with violence and arrogance, taking whatever we wanted—whoever we wanted whenever we pleased.”

“What happened then?”

A dark chuckle rumbled from deep in his chest. “What happens to blood thirsty beasts that do as they please? They kill out of greed, spilling the blood of their kin in order to take whatever they want. We let our inner monster take even the slightest of our humanity and were our own downfall.” He sighed, his arrogance now faded. “We didn’t care for anything or anyone but ourselves. Our enemies simply had to sit back and watch until they could extinguish our existence.”

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