Page 11 of Prey of the Lycan Queen
Malachi throws a punch, and both are so exhausted they don’t even block or dodge. James catches his fist midair, and my father huffs like he won until James grabs his ear like he is a disobedient child.
“James!” my father screeches as he is dragged to the corner of the room.
“You stay,” he growls, pointing at Malachi across the room.
Malachi glares daggers but is too exhausted to fight anymore. My father, however, sways and still tries to move past James. “Ungrateful little brat you are, aren’t you?” James snaps, pushing him back against the wall. “I gave you my blood, and you waste it on getting your ass beat!”
My father’s face grows pallid with embarrassment. “Keep your voice down. Some things we do not talk about.”
James scoffs. “You weren’t so ashamed when you were lapping at my damn neck like a cat does milk!” He shoves my father into the busted armchair.
“You know I am a king. You have no right?—”
“King of the kids. Grow up, Theron. You never take responsibility for anything. Malachi is right. Twice you have taken from him.”
“Electra was my mate!” he argues.
“Maybe so, but Shelley was not,” James tells him, and my father grumbles, folding his arms across his chest. “Now the question remains, how do we fix this?” He glances between them, and I sit up to see if Uncle James has an idea.
“We can’t. I am as good as dead. She isn’t going to choose them. I am living on borrowed time,” my father answers, and my brows pinch.
Lyon snores softly beside me, and when I nudge him, he jolts awake. “Damn it, who won?” he asks immediately, looking around with heavy eyes.
“James did. You owe me a year of wheat and wine,” I say. Lyon huffs, and sinks back into his seat.
“We don’t know that she won’t choose them. You just need to convince her, and these two—” James looks at us. “Where is Regan?” he questions suddenly, only just realizing Regan isn’t here.
“With Zirah,” I answer bitterly.
“Well, it seems one of you is smart. While you two are drowning your sorrows, he is burying his inside of her.” James snickers, and I growl at him.
“Convince her to do what?” Lyon asks.
“To accept you both.”
Lyon scoffs, and so do I. “Yeah, right, we are as good as dead,” I tell him, downing the remnants of my bottle.
“Keep drinking that shit and you will be.” He snatches the bottle from me and tosses it into the fireplace. The glass explodes on impact, and the flames shoot higher.
“She might as well kill me right now and get it over with if my life is in their incapable hands,” my father growls, shooting a glare at us.
“What nonsense are you spouting about now, old man?” I question.
“The curse, Zeke. Why do you think I needed to name an heir? Find a way to break the curse,” my father snarls. “I’m fucking dying. You three were cursed, but so was I!”
“What do you mean?” Lyon asks.
“I was cursed to die if the curse wasn’t broken. Litha allowed me 21 years to break it, or I die,” my father explains, and I look at Lyon, who is suddenly fully alert.
“Wait, this is why you made us take part in the maze trials?” I ask.
“Yes, my time is running out.”
“How much time do you have left?” I ask.
“From what I have gathered from hunting witches over the years, I have until the next full moon, when Zirah first shifts. If you three haven’t marked her, I die.”
“So you have two weeks?” Lyon asks, and my father sighs and nods.
