Page 3 of The Unwanted Mate of the Lycan Kings
Images of her body careening over the cliff play in my mind.It is almost as if she knew her fate was sealed and took life back into her own hands.
The truck’s engine rumbles to life, loud in the dead of night.Yet it doesn’t drown out the whimpers of the other prisoners—people I know by sight but not by name.
Our cave was supposed to be safe, out of reach of civilization’s clutches and far away from any harm.I grew up in these mountains, running through the sprawling fields of wildflowers, training on the rocky terrain of the cliffs, and finding peace in the flowing rivers.Out here, we were far from the four lycan kingdoms.Yet all that training was for nothing considering how easily I was captured.Now I am being hauled away to a place my granny chose death over, so I have no idea what hell awaits my arrival.
The other survivors huddled together won’t even look at me, but they hold each other in a way that makes my heart ache.I have no one.These beasts came in the night, surrounded our home, and ripped us from where we slept, but even before then,my granny and I were outsiders.
She tried to tell the others that we were not safe, that our rising population and the people who came and went would give us away.The elders pushed back and silenced her with seclusion.No one was permitted to speak with us, and for years I grew up watching our people from a distance.Sometimes their laughter and whispers would seep through the cave’s crevices, but I never believed the things they would say about my granny.She knew this was coming.Her smiling face swims before my eyes again, so I push my grief down, and stare idly ahead.
The bumping truck jostles me as the driver speeds over the off-road track, the binds around my wrists digging into my skin painfully.I feel queasy until we reach the flat surface of the roads we were always forbidden to go near.Granny used to go this way searching for supplies, but she never took the roads.
When I was very young, she’d bring back books and trinkets from her runs, and I learned all about the kingdoms we were hiding from.I pictured our lives outside the caves sometimes, but I never thought I’d have to do this alone.
Crying sobs and pained moans fill the truck, and my eyes dart back over to the other survivors.I was the last born in our cave village eighteen years ago, the youngest, but the three men and young woman here with me were the closest to my age of all our people.
A feral snarl silences the cries and whimpers, and my eyes move to the man sitting on the bench across from me.Only he isn’t a man at all.No, he is a monster.
Despite his glare’s coldness, his amber eyes seem to burn into me.Strangely, I feel numb instead of scared.Maybe I am in shock.He leans forward, snapping his fingers in front of my face to focus my blank stare.
“You are an odd one, aren’t you?”the man speaks.His voice is deep, and he moves in his makeshift seat across from me, leering as he takes in my barely clothed body.
“No, you just don’t scare me,” I tell him, shocked at how emotionless my own words are.I turn my gaze back to thosehuddled in the corner.They finally look back, as if seeing me for the first time, but I don’t expect their kindness.They don’t even know me.
My granny taught me everything she knew in anticipation of this day, and as I think of all the death and gore left behind in the caves, I can’t help but be grateful that I was never close with any of them.
“They don’t like you,” he states, glancing at them, and I turn my attention back to the man with amber eyes.
“What makes you say that?”I ask cautiously.
“Because when we entered the cave, they ran and tried to help each other.You and that old woman they left behind,” he states, turning his head and sneering at them.They whimper, pressing closer together as if it would shield them from his anger.
“They were frightened,” I answer, surprised at how robotic my own voice sounds.Anyone would think I am merely conversing with an old friend, not someone responsible for slaughtering an entire community.
“You smell strange.You don’t smell the same as them.They reek of fear.You reek of acceptance.Your reaction to us finding you is wrong,” he says, sniffing the air.
“As I said, you don’t scare me,” I speak slowly.I do not fear him, the kingdoms, or anyone.Death is part of life, so there is no use fearing something we all one day will meet.Maybe that is why I feel so detached from my granny’s death.
“No, there is something else.You smell too different,” he adds, and I sigh, taking in his watchful face.His eyes sparkle back at me, and he licks his lips.The points of his canines stick out a little too long and protrude from his mouth.
“So do you,” I answer.I have always had a keen sense of smell and incredible hearing.It is why I am such a good hunter.Though there’s a certain level of perceptiveness you acquire when you spend your whole life training and waiting for your world to shatter.My granny’s drills were extensive, and because I was so small, she made sure I was equally as fast.Not that it served me well once the cave was invaded.No training couldhave prepared me for an attack by the king’s guards.
The man scoffs, folding his arms across his broad chest.“What do I smell like?”he chuckles, amused by my answer.
“Death.”
His eyebrows rise in shock before he nods once, leaning back and closing his eyes.
“Try to rest before we arrive.”
“Where are you taking us exactly?”I ask curiously.
“Silvercrest Arcana, the High kingdom,” he answers and I sigh, one of the worst kingdoms from what I’ve been told by Grandma.
“Does it not scare you?”he asks.I shake my head.
“It’s just a Kingdom.”Malachi laughs at my words.
“Rest.You’ll need your strength once you enter the maze.”He chuckles darkly, and my fellow cave dwellers whimper and sob harder.I suck in a breath and press my lips in a line.Why must the fates constantly challenge me?Was merely surviving not enough of a challenge?
