Page 195 of The Delta's Rogue
The bed dips with the weight of an added body—a body that must be massive, muscular, and powerful if it used to belong to a wolf shifter.
Amara kept me away from most of the world, but I’ve seen enough werewolves and lycans to know what they usually look like, to know the male who has lusted after me is likely built like the males who work with Amara or the males who came to the auction with Sebastian.
This male who wants me so badly could snap me in two, as if I was nothing more than a dried twig, if he so desired.
“My cousin and his family were always Selene’s favorites. She adored him and them, and rewarded them for merely existing. She gave him a lycan, gave him a mate, and meanwhile, I was overlooked. Forgotten. Swept to the side as if I didn’t matter, as if the contributions I’d made to werewolf-kind meant nothing. So I took what I wanted. I stole my cousin’s mate away in the dark of the night so I could make her mine. And when that didn’t work, when my mark wouldn’t stay on her neck? I killed her.”
“You killed your cousin’s mate?” Amara sounds far too intrigued and excited by the thought.
“If I couldn’t have her, then no one else deserved to have her either. I killed her, and then my cousin killed me. Tore my throat out just like I tore out Asteria’s throat.”
“Asteria? Selene’s daughter?” Amara gasps, reaching the realization of who Lowell really is at the same time I do.
We may not be werewolves, but as witches, we are raised on the lore of every magical creature in existence.
“But if you’re the werewolf who killed Asteria, then that would meanyou’re—”
“Lyall. Yes.” He lets out a laugh—a dark, cruel sound that slithers over my skin like an oily sludge. “I am Lyall.”
“How are you alive?”Amara asks Lowell—Lyall—her voice more reverent than I’ve ever heard it.
“Hades refused to let my soul into the underworld. I was instead cursed to remain in the mortal realm for eternity. Millenia passed, and my benefactor found my soul wandering the mountains where Conan killed me, and offered me a deal: I would become a demigod in exchange for help with hurting Selene, and once I succeeded in doing so, I would once again have a wolf and finally get a mate.”
“Couldn’t they just hurt Selene themselves? Why go through all this trouble to hurt her in such a roundabout way?”
“There is an agreement in place among the gods. It prevents them from physically hurting each other. My benefactor needed to find a way around that agreement to inflict pain upon her in a way that wouldn’t be linked to them. I was the perfect opportunity—the male who killed her daughter, brought back to life to torture and destroy her beloved werewolves, to bring her to her knees with anguish and sorrow when she learns of everything they’ve been subjected to.”
“Is there a reason they want to hurt Selene so badly?”
“They didn’t say, and I didn’t ask. Our end goal was the same, and that was enough for me.”
I cling to every word. I commit each one to my memory. The rhythm my heart beats as he reveals the cruel depths of his conspiracy with this heartless, nameless god or goddess is faster than the rumblings of thunder through a raging storm.
Thankfully, they hear none of it. If they did, if they knew I was awake and listening to this entire exchange, who knows what they would do to me. Who knows if his desire to have me would outweigh his need to protect his secret and protect their plan.
Attack a pack. Take them by surprise and kill them—all just to hurt Selene, the moon goddess, the creator of all werewolves and lycans.
I need to get this information to Sebastian and Sarina. Then they can warn the packs, so everyone will be prepared and on guard for a potential attack.
If only they’d let the pack’s name slip…
“Who is this benefactor?” Amara asks.
“I can’t tell you that,” Lyall replies without missing a beat. “Our agreement prevents me from revealing their identity.”
“Of course. I understand. I just can’t believe you’re trusting me with this information,” Amara gushes.
That makes two of us.
“Oh, Amara.” Lyall lets out another of those slimy laughs, and the weight of his body disappears from my bed. “You silly, power-hungry witch. I’m only telling you this because you won’t remember any of this conversation.”
There is a long pause. A heavy sigh. The sound of palms wiped together and shoved into pockets. And then—
“Thank you for letting me see my pretty little prize tonight,” Lyall murmurs, and I can picture the disgusting, self-satisfied grin he wears even though I’ve never seen his face. “She truly is a lovely little thing, especially when sleeping so peacefully.”
Tears form behind my eyelids. I want to shrink away from him, to jump up and launch myself at him and rip out his eyeballs, but I’m trapped within the shackles of Amara’s spell, and all I can do is listen and endure their presence.
At least he doesn’t know I heard everything he said too.
