Page 12 of Prey of the Lycan Queen
“Yep, you are definitely dead then. We can go casket shopping tomorrow if you like. We’ll pick you out a real cushy one,” I tell him, and he growls.
“Maybe we can paint a sloth on it?” Lyon suggests. I snicker at his words and my father’s horrified face.
“Do you really care so little for me?” he asks.
“You made your bed—” I start, but Lyon jumps in to correct me.
“Casket! He made his casket.” Lyon wags a finger in the air drunkenly.
“Right. You made your casket, so now you lie in it,” I tell him with a shrug just as Hunter walks into the room. We all turn our attention to the door, and moments later, Zirah walks in, stopping in her tracks.
Chapter Seven
The sight that greets me is one I never expected. The billiard room, usually filled with laughter and clinking glasses, now looks like a battlefield. Tables and chairs are upturned, the floors are littered with shattered glassware, and the room smells strongly of blood, sweat, and spilled alcohol.
In the middle of the destruction, the men I’ve known as kings look more like warring barbarians. “Did a tornado hit this place?” I ask, my voice echoing in the silence that follows my entrance.
“Something like that,” Zeke grumbles, slouched in a chair with a bottle in his hand.
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Looks more like you have been fighting.”
My gaze drifts to Malachi, who is leaning against the wall. He has a bloody cut on his lip, and his chest is heaving.
As I cautiously step further into the billiard room, my heart pounds against my rib cage. The air is thick with tension as I take in the scene before me. King Theron stands panting in the middle of the room. His and Malachi’s clothes are disheveled and torn, and James stands between them with a scowl.
The two of them seem to sway in the aftermath of their battle, as if they can still feel the fury of the fight. Around them, Zeke and Lyon stand, their faces pale and their eyes wide as they watch me.
The entire room goes still as I walk in, my feet silent against the hardwood floor. I flick my wrist, and magic spills out of me like a wave of energy, clearing a path to the door at the end of the billiard room. That door leads to the kitchens.
I begin to walk forward, but King Theron steps into my path. He stands at the edge of a broken billiard table, his presence looming and powerful. His gaze pierces me, and my mother’s face floats through my mind as if she were standing before me. I lock eyes with him, my gaze deadly.
“Zirah . . .” His voice is low but thick with emotion.
My heart pounds as I stare into his eyes. I want to lash out, cast a spell, and make him pay for what he did to my mother. I want to watch him burn the way she did. “You’re in my way,” I tell him.
He tilts his head, his eyes flashing dangerously. “This is my?—”
“Was . . . It was your kingdom, but it’s not anymore. So again, Theron, you’re in my way.”
“You would dismiss me so easily, Zirah?” I step past him without a word, moving toward the kitchens. “Fine, but at least give my sons a chance,” Theron states.
I turn my head slightly, chuckling at his statement. He must truly be a madman to think I would even still consider his sons as viable suitors.
“They had their chance,” I say, my voice cold and distant. “And they chose their path. They chose to stand by you, Sloth. I’m not agreeing to anything.”
His eyes flicker with pain, and perhaps a hint of regret, but I don’t have the luxury of sympathy—not for him. I continue my walk toward the kitchens, my heart pounding in my chest. I feel Theron’s gaze on my back, heavy and intense, but I refuse to turn around.
The kitchens are in chaos when I finally reach them, a flurry of activity that pauses when the staff notices my presence. I don’t have time to deal with their questions or their fear.
The people exchange glances, but no one speaks. They’re scared of me and what I represent. They’re loyal to Theron, their king, and they probably think that helping me is akin to treason.
“You’re scared,” I say, not as an accusation but as a statement of fact. “I understand. But I am not your enemy.” I pause, looking at each one of them, but I notice their eyes are on the door behind me.
“Where is my brother?” Zeke asks, and I exhale, not wanting to deal with him.
“Asleep,” I answer, moving toward the coffee machine. I have hardly slept, tossing and turning and waking every hour. I need coffee, and lots of it if I am going to visit Kelly later today.
“So that’s it, you just made your choice and fuck the rest of us?” Lyon snarls.
