Page 10 of Lycan Prey
I know what she means. I’m not afraid of the male wolves; their posturing and howls don’t intimidate me. What I fear is the carnage that might follow my transformation. The overwhelming desire to hunt, kill, and mate can turn even the most civilized werewolf into a monster.
Full moons have claimed too many victims, human and shifter alike, the truth of it sitting heavy on my heart. It’s a reality we live with, a grim reminder of our nature.
“We’ll definitely have to work that out. The Lycan King doesn’t like roaming werewolves.”
My breath catches, as if someone has just squeezed all the air from my chest. “Lycan King?” My voice is barely audible, a mere echo in the cozy living room filled with memories of safety and warmth—now overshadowed by fear.
“King Soren,” Granny clarifies, her eyes dark with worry. She glances over at the window, peering through the lace curtains as though expecting to see the King’s guards on our doorstep.
The news hits me like a physical blow. “Lycan King?” I echo, my voice barely a whisper. I don’t remember the Lycan King in this area, but then again, I haven’t seen granny in years since Mom and she had that huge fight over Brielle passing. We were in my grandmother’s care, after all; my mother never did forgive her for what happened, she blamed Granny. It wasn’t granny’s fault, she couldn’t have predicted a drunk driver.
“His castle isn’t far from here. He’s very strict about rogues in the kingdom, so we’ll need to figure out how to register you, or maybe get you an exception.”
Panic courses within me. I press a hand against my chest, trying to calm the wild thumping of my heart. “So, I’m not in Rhett’s territory anymore?” The thought brings a twinge of relief but also a fresh tide of anxiety. Rhett’s suffocating grip is familiar, a known threat. This, however… this proximity to a king I’ve only met once fills me with dread.
“No, you’re in King Soren’s district now,” Granny says, turning back from the window. She gnaws on her bottom lip, deep in thought. “We’re just inside the kingdom grounds here, which is why you’ll need to register.”
“Maybe I can get you a temporary registration as my caregiver?” she suggests, gazing at me with a mix of hope and trepidation. Her hands are trembling slightly, betraying the concern etched into her wrinkles.
My breath catches as Granny’s words sink in. Lycans—rulers of our kind. Lycans are a different breed—more powerful, more structured, more sinister. They rule over werewolves, create our laws, and govern us. Knowing one is close while Rhett is hunting me is not a good thing because if there is a bounty on me, that means he’ll notify authorities soon.
Just Granny lying about me being here could get her executed. And if the King’s Guard finds me, I’m dead meat.
The idea of being in King Soren’s territory, especially knowing Rhett has sold me to him, is terrifying. My thoughts go to the king, how he seemed nice when I met him after saving his son. The gratitude in Soren’s eyes had seemed genuine, so I’m struggling to associate the man everyone fears with the man I met.
Granny seeming to notice my hesitation and leans closer. “Listen, the King’s Guards are not to be trifled with. Beryl, my neighbor… her grandson was living with her for a while. He tried to hide his new girlfriend here—she was wanted for a felony. She failed to register and the King’s Guard took her, and nobody has seen either of them since.”
Her words send shivers down my spine. I recall the kind man who thanked me profusely for saving Max.
“From what I know of him, he seemed…nice,” I say, trying to reconcile the image of the ruthless king with the grateful father who had once looked at me with warmth. But Granny’s humorless laugh cuts through my feeble attempt at optimism.
“Yes, as long as you don’t anger him, he is a good king. But trust me, you don’t want to be on his bad side, the man has a temper.”
Her words echo ominously around the room.
My fingers tremble and I sense Granny’s eyes on me, sharp and perceptive. She’s always been able to read me like an open book, even when I was a child sneaking cookies before dinner. Now, her gaze holds a different kind of intensity—urgent and protective.
“Granny,” I start, my voice barely above a whisper, “I…” The words lodge in my throat, fear wrapping around them like choking vines.
“Aubrey, talk to me.” She takes my cold clammy hands in her steady and warm ones.
The dam breaks, and tears well up, mirroring the storm inside me. They blur my vision as I choke out the painful truth.
“You need to leave, don’t you?” she asks, her voice sharp with concern.
I don’t want to leave her, but what choice do I have? I can’t stay here. I nod, the weight of my secret like a stone in my stomach. “I have to go, Granny. It’s not safe for me here.” The words tumble out in a rush.
Her brow furrows, deep lines etched by worry and age. “Why? Rhett has no jurisdiction here, child. Tell me, what’s got you so spooked?”
I fight through the sobs.
“Granny,” I gasp, the confession burning on my tongue, “Rhett… he sold me to the king. I was framed for stealing money that Rhett owed to King Soren.” The words taste bitter with the betrayal that has seeped and lingers within me.
Granny gasps, horror spreading across her features like quicksilver. “Oh, my child, we… maybe we can,” she pauses, her thoughts visibly tangling into knots. “You can’t just leave, you just got here. Maybe, perhaps…” Her voice fades into silence as she grapples with her own thoughts, attempting to lift herself from the worn armchair.
I move instinctively, my feet finding their purpose before my mind catches up. My hands slide under her elbows, gentle yet firm, easing the weight off her brittle bones. She leans on me, her body light in weight making me worry even more.
“Thank you, dear,” she murmurs, pointing a finger across the room. I nod, helping her.
