Page 15 of Prey of the Lycan Queen
“Then what did he say that angered you?”
“It’s like Lyon said, sibling rivalry.” I shrug, hoping she buys it, but the look on her face says she doesn’t. Though she adds nothing, I can tell she is seething beneath her calm facade. I can feel her effortlessly through the bond we now share, and it makes me wonder if she can feel me too. She had no trouble invading our mind-link, but I wonder if it extends to my emotions, even if I haven’t marked her.
As I guide Zirah through the elaborate maze of the castle, Gnash, Hunter, and Shadow tread closely behind us, their amber eyes glowing in the shadows. I can’t help but feel an unshakable sense of dread as I imagine the moment she discovers that I am the beast she first believed I was. Yet at the same time, I have an intense desire to be a better man for her. I am not worthy of her yet, but I want to be.
I draw her closer as we walk, a warm force contrasting against the cold stone beneath our feet. Her skin against mine makes sparks rush across my body, which is a bizarre but welcoming sensation. Zirah leans into me, stealing my warmth as I lead us back to her room, but I pause, wanting to go to mine instead. “Can we sleep in mine?” I ask her, much preferring my room over her bare one.
“I need to grab a new shirt, Gnash drooled on this one,” she huffs.
“You can borrow one of mine,” I tell her, nudging her toward my room. Plus, I have the wolfsbane in my room, and with how antsy I am after running into my uncle, I might need it. One part of me wants to kill him for planting that little seed of doubt in her head, but another part of me knows he’s right. She has a lot to learn about us and our world. Reluctantly, she follows me to my room.
Pushing the door open, a cold draft from the open balcony sweeps over us. The room is dark, so I flick the light on before moving to start the fire while Zirah raids my walk-in closet.
When she saunters out of the closet, my heart stalls. My oversized shirt hangs off one sun-kissed shoulder, revealing an inch of skin that makes my mouth dry. The length swallows her, but as she bends to pull the covers back, my shirt rides up her thighs, and an insatiable need ignites within me.
Her dark hair is a spiraled mess cascading down her back, and though her rune tattoos running up both her arms are currently dormant, I know their potential. With one slight emotion, I know she can activate them, and they’ll burn fiercely like precious gems against her pale skin.
The sight of her stirs a primal urge to lay claim, like I have any right over this captivating creature before me. Yet even without a fully formed bond, she holds an unwitting power over me.
It’s not merely her physical allure that ensnares me. It’s the way she moves, so bold and confident, that captures my attention. Each step she takes radiates an aura that seeps into the chill of the room, warming everything around her like fire melting snow. She knows who she is now, and she knows how powerful she truly is.
It scares me because she doesn’t need me—she doesn’t need anyone—but it excites me to see how confident she has become. She was fearless before because she wasn’t afraid of death and felt like she had nothing left to lose, but now she is fearless because she has something to live for and knows her power is unmatched by any enemy she may have.
My breath hitches in my throat as a wave of desire crashes into me, watching Zirah climb on top of my bed among the pile of fur blankets and pillows. She looks like an angelic entity, bound directly to the throne of God or perhaps the entrance of Hades. She’s an intoxicating mix of divinity and danger that holds me willingly captive. Yet when I see Gnash and his brothers following her, I can’t help but smirk.
“No, you take up too much room,” she whines when all three wolves pounce onto the bed. She huffs. “Well, his bed is bigger. I guess it’s okay,” she coos, scratching Hunter’s head.
I turn back to the fire I was supposed to be building and wonder how my brothers are coping without their wolves. Not having Gnash is like having a limb removed, yet I would rather she be protected.
“Regan,” she finally breaks the silence, her voice soft and curious. “Are you lighting the fire or staring at the wood?” she asks, shaking me out of my thoughts. She flicks her fingers, and fire shoots past me. I jump back as flames shoot from the logs and rise up the chimney in a roar. She giggles, and when I peer over at her, she looks at me innocently.
“You could have burned me,” I tell her, and she raises an eyebrow. Yeah, she has too much control for those kinds of mistakes.
“Want to rephrase that? Maybe next time I will miss intentionally.” She chuckles, and I shake my head, wandering over to her while shedding my clothes. Reaching the bed, I notice that her wolves have built a furry barrier between her side of the mattress and mine, and I let out a low growl. They move instantly, all three jumping off the bed and wandering toward the fire.
When I climb into bed, Zirah rolls to face me. “Tell me about your mother. How did she die?” she asks suddenly, and I pause. The question punctures my heart. My mother’s death is a wound that has never quite healed. It’s a constant reminder of the horrors this curse has caused us.
“She . . . She died not long after we realized the curse had truly worked,” I start, swallowing the lump that’s forming in my throat, pulling the blanket over top of us.
“You don’t have to tell me the gritty details, Regan. I just want to know what happened surrounding her death,” she adds, and I can feel her guilt through our bond.
“It’s fine. I’ll tell you. You’ll find out anyway.” I pull her closer, dragging her on top of me. She rests her chin on her hands, waiting for me to continue. To delay the words that feel stuck in my throat, I brush my fingers through her hair, loving how the silky tendrils slip across my skin. “It had been years since any lycan woman had given birth to a girl. Litha’s curse was no longer a myth, it was a nightmare we were living. Only my mother and I knew about Litha’s daughter—you—still being alive. We thought your grandmother was the oracle. We never imagined it could be you. We went looking for both of you, hoping to reverse the curse.”
My chest tightens at the memory of the last few moments with my mother.
“After the curse, female lycans were hunted to near extinction. My mother was the last, hidden within the safety of the castle. When she learned I was going to look for you, she insisted she come. I couldn’t refuse her. She was the only person who could help. We didn’t trust my father to know. His anger back then made him irrational. He would have killed you both had he ever found you, but we were hoping to convince your grandmother to break the curse, so my mother came with me.”
“I think I changed my mind.” Zirah covers her eyes. “Maybe I don’t want to know.” I take a breath and pull her hands from her face. I need her to see me, to know this, to understand what peril comes with being the last female lycan.
“We were ambushed. Our people turned on us, fueled by the belief that we had cursed them. The kingdoms were at war, and it turned everyone savage.”
My voice drops to a whisper, the agony of the memory slicing through me like a sword. “They took my mother. Made me watch as they violated her, as they—” My voice cracks, and I feel a shudder rack my body. “Then they killed her right in front of me, and all I could do was watch.”
The silence that follows is heavy as Zirah’s eyes fill with tears.
“My brothers found us the next day,” I continue in a whisper. “I was barely clinging to life next to our mother’s body. They blamed me, said I should’ve protected her, that I shouldn’t have allowed her to leave the safety of the castle. But I knew better. She would’ve left on her own if she had to. She died trying to help me find you. Not only that, but she wasn’t just worried about my father’s anger, but mine. She wanted to protect you.”
“Because of your wrath?” she whispers.
