Page 42 of Lycan Prey
I clear my throat awkwardly. “I appreciate your concern, Your Highness.” Soren doesn’t move away and instead lifts his hand to cup my cheek gently.
“Brielle, please call me Soren,” he whispers softly. My body feels like it’s on fire at the sound of his voice so close to me.
“S-Soren…” I stutter out before peering down at my feet in embarrassment. He chuckles and moves closer again until our noses are almost touching.
“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he says with a grin that makes my heart race even faster. My face warms at his words. Soren seems to notice and he leans in even closer until I can practically feel the heat emanating from his body, feel his breath skate over my skin. His other hand reaches toward my face when suddenly we hear Max’s voice in the corridor.
“Dad?” King Soren jumps at the sound, and so do I. We both peer at the door.
Max appears carrying his pillow and his blanket. His eyes are sleep heavy yet determined as he takes a few steps forward.
“Why are you out of bed?” the King asks him sternly as we hurry to put some distance between us.
“Can I sleep in your room? The wind is making trees scratch the window,” Max pouts before shooting a glance toward his father, pleading for permission. King Soren sighs and scoops him up.
“I should get him settled,” Soren says, and I nod, giving Max a small wave, and he yawns, making me chuckle. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Chapter 17
• King Soren •
The grandeur of the castle feels more oppressive than usual today. I’ve done nothing but argue with council members when all I want to do is join Max and Bree for lunch. However, I have responsibilities to attend to. Responsibilities that weigh heavily on me, as does the guilt of leaving Max with his nanny all day long.
Not that Bree isn’t capable. She has shown she is more than qualified for the job. She’s the first nanny Max hasn’t tried to escape. Moving toward the window, the scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers wafts in through the open window. I peer down at the courtyard. Bree’s hair is tied back in a neat rainbow ponytail today, and she is wearing a sundress as she stands by the swings with Max. Max’s face splits into a wide grin each time he swings higher, his small frame nearly flying through the air while screaming for her to push him higher.
At this moment, the weight of fatherhood feels heavier than the castle’s stone walls. But as I gaze down at Bree and Max, their laughter and joy lift some of that weight, I suddenly miss my wife. She passed away during labor with our daughter, I lost both of them that day. It’s the only time Lycan women are vulnerable.
Childbirth, their bodies unable to heal quickly, and breastfeeding all take a toll on Lycan women too. She was onlyjust getting back to herself after having Max when she fell pregnant again, Lycan women are weakened while pregnant, and up to a year after the child is born. We tried to keep the news of her second pregnancy quiet, but news travels fast; that is why they chose that day. As soon as word got out she was in labor, they attacked. I was hours away and didn’t get back in time, though I never did find out which pack tipped them off. None of my staff would have, but I was in a pack meeting at the city when I got the call to head home.
Max was two; she died protecting him, while everyone fought to get to her. Blair was never the same afterward and aged beyond her years. She was bonded to my wife—blood bonded. With her gone, she will die, though that can take years, decades even. They lose their immortality, and begin aging like werewolves do. Blair would have given her life for her had my wife not told her to run with Max. They hid in a cave beneath the waterfalls.
My wife in labor stood no chance. Still, she took half of the rogues with her when they attacked. We lost over a hundred people that day, they lost more by the time she was done slaughtering them, though Blair said she knew. She knew Amelia had given up when she was shot in the stomach with a concoction of wolfsbane and liquid silver. She knew our daughter Amaya was gone; it was then that she ordered Blair to take Max and run. I returned home to a bloodbath.
A week later I buried my wife and daughter.
Had I marked her, she may have survived, except we would be without a daughter. After having Max, Amelia wanted to wait until our wedding day for me to mark her. I loved my wife but she was vain; she insisted on losing the baby weight from Max before marrying. She fell pregnant on our wedding night with our daughter, making marking her dangerous. Max I know still feels her loss even if he hardly remembers her now.
Seeing Max now happy for once, a smile slips onto my face as I watch them. Bree would be a good mother. She is excellent with him, a natural. My eyes roam over her in her summer dress, hair pulled back in a ponytail high on her head. She is gorgeous, but that makes me all the more curious. She hasn’t budged on revealing anything about her past. Although I know she’s not dangerous, it makes me a bit nervous. Not to mention my guards—well, Damian—incessantly mentions I shouldn’t be leaving her alone with Max without knowing who she is.
Max has enough of an aura that he would be able to command her while she is in this form at least if need be. Lycans are the dominant species while werewolves are the mutt version of us; not that Bree is a mutt. We are the wolf, born with our instincts. We learn to control them. Werewolves, however, have an altered side of them; the wolf side of them has no control under a full moon. It’s believed to be a punishment from the moon goddess, that she cursed werewolves to become savages on a full moon, a punishment to their creation which is caused by Lycan’s bedding humans.
Bree’s last full moon was a week after I brought her here. She insisted on going home to her grandfather’s cellar. I think she was homesick. I’m fully equipped to have her handled here, yet I let her go, letting her have that piece of privacy. Though with the next full moon coming up in a couple weeks, I hope I can convince her to stay here. Max was distressed with her gone, worried another werewolf would get her. He kept me up all night worried about her.
Hearing a knock on my office door, I call out over my shoulder, “Come in,” slightly annoyed at being interrupted. The door creaks open, I don’t turn to see which of my staff members it is before I hear her voice.
“So this is how you greet us? I drove hours to get here.” Her voice is sharp and commanding, like a whip cracking in the air.
My entire body tenses, and I turn slowly. My mother stands in the doorway, her silver hair pulled back in an elegant bun and her posture exuding grace and power. Even looking like she is in her sixties, she is still a force to be reckoned with and the look on her face tells me I offended her by my lack of proper greeting. As she steps into my office, her expensive silk dress rustles with each movement.
I force myself to relax my shoulders and give her a small smile while my mind is racing.What the fuck is she doing here?With all the drama going on lately I forgot about the small lie I told her and now she is here!
“Mother,” I try to hide my panic. The sound of her heels tapping against the floor echoes in my office, mingling with the sound of my racing heartbeat and the rush of thoughts in my mind.
“What brings you here?” I ask, trying to keep my tone neutral. My gaze darts down to Brielle out the window, and I pray she doesn’t come up here until I can convince them to leave.
She gives me a disapproving look and crosses her arms over her chest. “Is that any way to greet your mother?” she snaps and my entire body tenses impossibly more as I look slowly to see my brother Damian with a smirk on his face behind her.
“A heads up was too much to ask for?”I growl through the mindlink as my father steps into my office a few steps behind her carrying—oh for frig sake, is that luggage! My mother dumps her handbag on my desk, quickly making her way over to me, a huge grin on her face.
