Page 10 of Prey of the Lycan Queen
“James. He’s held his tongue too long. I bet it’s fucking sharp,” I chuckle, sitting back in the chair to watch the show.
Malachi shoves my father into the billiard table, and it skids across the ground from the force. “You’re exactly like him, you fucking cretin!” Malachi bellows.
“You dare compare me to that vermin?” My father sneers.
Malachi scoffs. “Well, you have to stick your dick in everything that walks past, Theron! You’re just like him. God knows how many illegitimate kids you’ve got out there,” Malachi retorts.
My father shakes his head. “You know all about being an illegitimate kid, don’t you? You’ve always wanted to take my place. That’s all this is.”
Malachi’s eyes bulge as he takes another step toward my father. “You took Electra from me, and the moment you saw her take an interest in me, you had Father set up the agreement and stole her from me.”
“She was my fucking mate!” my father yells back.
“And when I learned to love another woman, you had to have her as well. You cheated on your mate because you couldn’t stand for me to have a fucking thing!” Malachi yells back.
“Hmm, this is getting interesting. Wonder what secrets get spilled tonight?” Lyon chuckles.
“I did no such thing. Your precious Shelley was a common whore. I did what any other man would do when presented with easy pussy. I fucked it!” my father snarls, and Malachi slaps him.
My father body slams his brother onto the billiards table without hesitation, and the table collapses under the force. Uncle James moves out of the way as Malachi springs up and tackles my father to the floor, throwing punches into his ribs and chest. As they roll apart, my father sits up and clutches his back, groaning like a true old man. Clearly, that hurt more than he anticipated.
“You fucked her because you knew I wanted her,” Malachi snarls as my father moves to get up, grabbing hold of the hand James offers him. Before he is on his feet, Malachi kicks my father in the stomach, sending him flying into the wall.
Chapter Six
“Was that necessary, Malachi?” Uncle James scolds while my father peels his body from the dented wall.
“Made me feel better.” Malachi shrugs, holding out his hand. James shakes his head, grabs his hand, and pulls him to his feet with a click of his tongue.
“You jealous little mongrel. After everything I have done for you! I took you in! I didn’t have to!” my father starts again. He hates being at the losing end of an argument, even when he is wrong.
“You took me in so that you could rub your fucking throne in my face, so don’t pretend you did anything out of kindness,” Malachi snarls back.
“Oh, that’s bullshit, Mal, and you know it. Father wanted you dead. Had I not taken you as my beta, he would have killed you, along with your mother. I fucking raised you, you little mutt,” my father sneers.
“I’m sure out of the goodness of your black fucking heart, you swine!”
James sighs and rolls his eyes while wandering over to us. “This is why I am the black sheep. Who would want to put up with this shit daily?” James says as he stops next to us and lets them carry on.
“No, you’re the black sheep because you are half bloodsucker. Gotta keep up appearances. What would the people think if they knew you were another brother of the king?”
“I wouldn’t laugh. Malachi is right. You probably have brothers and sisters you don’t know about, secretly hunting your throne.” James chuckles.
“Don’t you start picking sides, James!” my father spits at him.
“Of course not, Theo. I don’t pick sides, not until the end so I can ensure I pick the winning one. Now carry on as you were. Maybe Malachi can beat some sense into you,” James retorts. Malachi seems to take that as permission because he lunges at my father.
By the time they are done, the room is all but demolished, but I saved two bottles from the bar, and I am keeping them safe.
“My bet was on you, and you never threw a single punch,” I grumble when I see my father has had enough, and Malachi is winning.
“Play smarter, not harder, son,” James says, patting my knee and hopping up.
“Huh?” Lyon slurs drunkenly. I wish I could get as drunk as easily as him.
Their fight has gone on for hours, and now the morning sun filters in through the heavy, torn drapes. I yawn as James wanders over casually to them. He’s obviously sick of playing referee as they throw half-assed swings at each other. It’s like watching geriatrics fight in slow motion.
My eyes move to the clock above the entrance. Well, I suppose they’ve been punching each other for about three hours now. Even so, I thought the old man would have lasted longer. Disappointing.
