Page 65 of Prey of the Lycan Queen
Zeke’s hand remains a steady presence against my shifting form, a grounding anchor amid the turbulent storm. His voice, heavy with conviction, provides a sense of solace. “We’ll get through this, Zirah,” he promises. “But I need you to be quiet,” he whispers, his hand muffling my cries as he moves, clamping it over my mouth.
“They’ll hear her, shh, Priestess, you have to be quiet,” one of the witches urges, and I can hear the fear in her voice, yet the pain is torture.
With a guttural growl, the shift takes hold, pulling at my form as if I were made of putty. My body convulses, my skin stretching and contorting as my bones creak and crack. The taste of raw, untamed power fills my mouth. It’s intoxicating.
As the chaos of fur, fangs, and fear erupts within the confines of the cell, the sound of feet running toward us reaches my ears. “Shh, quiet, love,” Zeke whispers, knowing what is to come when they find out.
Zeke moves, forcing the shift I know causes him agony, to shield my breaking body. He presses me closer to Lyon, allowing both their huge bodies to shield me from the guards as they shine their lights into the cell. My spine cracks and Zeke’s hand presses harder against my mouth while he growls at the guards.
They scan the cell with their lights, focusing on Zeke’s form. One guard chuckles and shakes his head. “Try all you like mutt, but these cells could hold a dozen of you. You’re not getting out.” The flashlights flicker away, and the guards’ footsteps retreat, completely uninterested in Zeke’s attempt to shift.
Zeke rolls over and sits up, his eyes scanning the room before falling on my twisted form. He snarls, sniffing me. I can feel his confusion. I don’t smell like me right now. The shift is changing my scent, infusing it with the human part of me. He growls, his clawed hand moving to grab me, but Zeke flings his arm between us.
“It’s Zirah, Lyon,” Zeke snarls, using his body to block Lyon’s next blow from hitting me. I know it’s not his fault, and I know the hallucinations don’t help, but it stings that he doesn’t recognize me.
Lyon turns on his brother, his mind still poisoned with the drugs. It takes all of Zeke’s strength to subdue him. The brothers lock into a brutal fight, and I know how this will end. Zeke will be torn to pieces as he tries not to kill Lyon, which in turn will kill us all.
I cry out in anguish as I watch Zeke’s body being ripped apart by Lyon’s frenzied aggression. The beast within him is too strong, too far gone under the influence of the sedatives, and my mate pays the price for his loyalty and love.
The sound of teeth and claws tearing flesh fills the air as Zeke throws himself in front of me. The metallic tang of blood mixes with the musky scent of lycan, thickening the air and adding to the chaos.
Cries and grunts mix with growls and snarls, the sound reverberating off the walls of our damp, dark cell as Zeke fights to subdue his brother without causing serious harm. His lycan form is scarred and broken, but he fights with all his might to protect me from harm.
Blood spatters across my face as I struggle to get between the two brothers before they kill one another. Only I make it about two steps before my ankles snap, stealing the air from my lungs. Teeth and claws clash, blood spraying the cell. Lyon’s rage fuels his strength, and Zeke’s desperation to subdue him dampens his own.
I scream, the sound echoing off the stone walls of our prison until it feels like it’s shattering the very foundations of our confinement. “Stop it! Both of you, stop it!” My voice is raw and hoarse from the pain as I throw myself at them, desperate to end the senseless fighting.
But it’s too late, and Zeke kicks Lyon into the metal bars with one final shove of his legs. Lyon stumbles backward and crashes to the ground, half dazed by his rage. I throw myself in front of him before he can recover enough to attack again, my canines slipping out as a low growl fills my chest. I feel my vision changing abruptly as lycan senses settle over me like a blanket. Lyon stares at me in shock, struggling against himself to return from the dark depths that consumed him moments ago.
Although I’m no match for them, my presence seems to be enough of a distraction that both Zeke and Lyon are pulled out of their violent frenzy. Their eyes meet, and the realization sets in that they nearly killed one another. Zeke collapses before me, exhausted from their fight.
Lyon is quick to shove me away as another wave of agony tears through me. My spine realigns, and my bones harden and lengthen. As I cry out under the pain of my body reshaping itself, Zeke hesitantly gathers me into his arms, his strong frame shaking with silent sobs as he once again muffles my cries. His words become the anthem of our pain.
“Your first shift should never have been this . . . I’m sorry, Zirah, so sorry. Shh . . . baby. You need to be quiet, please.” I let his words anchor me as I feel Lyon’s confusion. Zeke growls, but instead of attacking this time, Lyon lays down and presses closer. A deep purr rumbles from his chest, and after a few minutes, I feel Zeke finally relax.
Chapter Forty-Eight
It is as if James and I are shadows moving stealthily toward our destination, unseen beneath the cloak of night. The moon hangs high, casting a pale, luminescent light onto the tunnels of the mountain. After last night’s ordeal, we recuperated before spending the day trying to find a way past the guards. It didn’t take us long to realize that King Slavic has all his guards at this place, leaving his kingdom seemingly defenseless. We also realize we will have to wing it and go in all brute force because we haven’t got time to waste on waiting for back up.
As we approach the entrance to the underground bunker on the mountain’s eastern side, an unexpected sight stops us in our tracks. A line of formidable creatures stands guard, their eyes glowing menacingly in the dark.
“Great, just what we need,” James mutters, and Gnash growls. My hands clamp down over his muzzle to quiet him. I hold a finger to my lips and motion for him to sit. Gnash does reluctantly, his fur standing on end. They are hybrids, vampire soldiers infused with lycan blood, an unholy combination of strength and speed, but they are outmatched, especially when James is old as dirt and they don’t stand a chance against full blooded lycan king.
Our attack is swift and brutal. We plunge into the fray, bodies colliding and claws slashing. Despite their nature, the hybrids are caught off guard by our assault. We exploit this advantage, using it to overpower them.
Despite our efforts of trying not to alert the entire guard fleet to our whereabouts, one gets away, and the situation starts to spiral out of control when he alerts the others.
My body is weakening, and my senses are dimming. A wave of pain courses over every muscle in my body, and I stumble, my strength faltering. James is at my side instantly, his arm wrapping around my waist to keep me upright while he kicks a guard away who was about to attack me.
“She’s shifting,” I groan in agony. Hearing this, James gasps but is forced to abandon me, shoving me at the wall while he fights more approaching guards.
“Regan, stay with me,” he pleads, his eyes mirroring my own worry. I am running out of time. I try to nod to assure him I’m okay, but the effort is too much as I wait for the wave of pain to leave. I know we should have tried last night. Rest was something I shouldn’t have taken. The curse ravaging me alerts me to her change, almost as if mocking me, telling me that death is coming for me. I feel a surge of power, a tidal wave of primal energy, and I know undoubtedly—Zirah has shifted.
James takes the lead, plunging back into the fight as more guards flood the tunnel, and I stumble over a discarded body on the floor. My uncle is a force of nature, his moves precise and lethal. One thing becomes crystal clear as my vision blurs and my consciousness wavers. The rescue mission has just turned into a race against time, and we cannot afford to lose.
Sticking my fingers in my mouth, I whistle, the sound eerie in the tunnel as it bounces off the stone walls. A second later, I hear Gnash tearing into the tunnels behind us. His fur brushes my leg as he helps James take down the remaining guards. I lean against the rocky wall, trying to catch my breath, waiting for the wave of nausea and dizziness to pass.
When it does, we plunge headlong into the labyrinthine bowels of the underground bunker, our footfalls echoing off the grim, gray rock walls.
