The Unwanted Mate Of The Lycan Kings

The howling sounds of wolves and gnashing jaws rip through the silent cave, and my eyes snap open to the suffocating darkness. At first, I wonder if I’d had another nightmare about being invaded, but a bloodcurdling scream sends a bolt of panic up my spine. This is it. We’ve all lived in fear that they would find us; it was only a matter of time, and our time is finally up.

My nightmares of the wolves had become so frequent and terrifying that I knew something awful was coming—just like Granny knew.

Snarling and shouts have me sitting upright, and the first vicious growl from somewhere down the cave’s corridor makes my heart lurch in my chest. They’re way too close.

My eyes scan the dark cave while I secretly pray I am wrong. Yet, the sound of flesh being ripped apart and claws scraping rock has me tossing my legs over the edge of my bearskin pallet.

The caves are chilly during the day and even colder at night, but they were the only place we felt safe. Another shrill howl reminds me how wrong we were. There is no safe place.

My eyes dart to my granny’s empty pallet with fear, but before the scream in my throat breaks free, I catch sight of her moving toward the dying fire with a jug of water. She douses the scantily glowing embers and holds a shaking finger to her lips. Through the wisp of smoke between us, I watch the cavern’s entry point with wide, terrified eyes.

These aren’t regular wolves we’re dealing with; they are part human, part animal. Beasts of man. Werewolves.

These savage beasts are part of the reason the human population has been so terribly decimated. They are also what drove us into these caves to begin with, far away from the monsters who linger on the mountain’s border and surround the neighboring kingdom.

More screams ring out loudly as I jump from my resting spot before approaching her. Granny glances at the pitch-black tunnel opening where the screams grow louder, and she signals for me to follow her.

Not that there is any need. We have practiced this scenario more times than I can count; it has been drilled into me for as long as I can remember. We move quickly, making our way deeper into the cave, climbing the rocks and squeezing through tight crevices. Despite my granny being nearly seventy, she moves through the dark like rushing water.

“Hurry, Zirah, it isn’t just werewolves,” she whispers, and I peer over my shoulder, suddenly fearing the dark I used to find comforting. My eyesight is better than most, but this cave is like a closed coffin without a single shaft of sunlight. We would be lost if we weren’t counting our steps right now and scraping our fingers along the walls for direction.

“What else?” I ask.

“The Lycan King’s guards,” she answers. I know better than to doubt her. My granny has the gift of sight. She is a witch, a seer, old yet no less powerful. However, her parlor tricks, potions, and spells would hold no ground against a lycan. They are another beast entirely. Similar to werewolves but still vastly different. They walk on two legs and are faster, stronger, and deadlier—also a hell of a lot bigger.

“This way, hurry,” Granny hisses, pushing me faster and further through cold passages. “We can’t let them find you,” she says, grabbing my hand and leading me down another branch of the cave. The urgency in her voice is frightening, and when I try to search her face for reassurance, her features are obscured by darkness.

“I knew it. I knew when that bastard left that he would rat us out. He has ruined everything. I need more time; I should have had more time. The prophecy isn’t for another year . . .” she mutters before her words trail off.

“Granny—” I try to question, but her hand clamps over my mouth. We listen to people running, and I know it is the lycans. Their pace is much faster than werewolves, and I can hear them growing closer. My granny’s hair swipes my face as she stares in the direction we came from.

Her hand trembles over my mouth. “If the king finds you and figures out what you are—”

“Granny, what are you talking about?” I hiss. She sounds like a madwoman.

“Hush, my child. Keep your voice down.” She grabs my arm and rips me into a narrow area.

“You’re making no sense,” I whisper as she stops at an incline. She glances up at the hole above, which looks like a tiny speck from the moonlight shining through.

“I promised your mother. Now, I have failed her. That fool led them right to you,” she whimpers. As I grab her arm, she spins and clutches my head in her hands.

“Listen to me! They can’t find out what you are. You must keep it a secret from the king. Death would be more merciful,” she stammers, her hands shaking on either side of my face.

“What are you talking about?”

“The king’s sons,” she says, letting me go to start climbing. I hurry after her, wanting to know what she is talking about, but I get no more answers.

Sounds of feet pounding against stone and men hollering make my breath halt as we climb through the narrow gap to the opening above, using our feet and hands to keep us from slipping back to the cave floor. Each step my granny makes causes dust and small rocks to rain down on me, yet my hands and feet refuse to lose the little traction I have as we climb higher.

“Zirah, hurry!” my granny hisses, and as she breaches the opening above, I hear a snarl below. Granny hauls herself out, and I look down to see amber eyes staring back at me.

Nothing gets you moving faster than knowing claws and teeth await your fall. I shriek. I can’t help it. My granny waves her hand above my head when the lycan jumps into the narrow gap. He grips my ankle and nearly makes me slide back down.

My nails tear from my fingertips as I claw the cave wall, shaking and kicking my leg. The lycan roars below, and his claws slice my delicate skin like a hot knife through butter.

“Zirah, hurry,” Granny hisses, her hand barely touching my fingertips. Gritting my teeth, I try to use my foot—which is still on the wall—to push higher. The lycan below me loses his grip slightly, but his sharp claws hook into my ankle and rip me back down.

My hand flails, trying to reach for Granny. When she manages to grab my arm, the strength she wields is shocking. The lycan claws at the inside walls of the tunnel, trying to reach me.

Kicking my foot out, it connects with the side of his head, and he tumbles back down. Granny groans, and I look up to see her eyes glowing white. Her pupils then glow blue as a current of air tunnels around me, and she rips me out of the narrow hole. I peer down timidly, watching the lycan trying to squeeze through the tiny opening before sliding back down to the cave floor, unable to fit.

My ankle is a bloody mess. The cuts sting, but where he dug his claws in like fishhooks hurts the worst. The grisly wounds are almost to the bone. Groaning, I get to my feet, pushing away my granny’s fussing hands.

“Quick, show me,” Granny hisses, but I shake my head, nudging her to keep going.

“We haven’t got time. Go,” I whisper-yell at her. She nods, climbing the rocky terrain as we try to go around those chasing us, each step painful as my ankle swells. We just need to get to the other side of the mountain where the beach is. The cliffside here is rocky and offers some cover, but our scent will give us away quickly.

And it does immediately.

To make matters worse, it is a full moon, which means the beasts chasing us are at full strength. Granny slips on a loose rock, and I barely catch her. Steadying her on her feet, I push and drag her around the mountain’s edge. When a rattling growl explodes from the direction we are running toward, I freeze, and so does Granny. My eyes dart nervously, trying to spot the intruders while looking for another way, but I only see a small landing before the cliff’s edge.

Granny takes off, sliding and skidding on the slick surface, and I follow, thinking maybe she sees something I don’t. Just as my bare feet hit the smooth rock below, claws slash down the boulders, making an awful sound.

My gaze snaps up, and I come face-to-face with a snarling lycan. It is the first time I have seen one up close, and they are more terrifying than I ever thought imaginable. It stalks us, and as I step back, Granny clutches my arm tightly. Another feral growl comes from the other side of us, and I whip around to find a second lycan closing in.

My head snaps from side to side, trying to watch both when my granny lets go of my arm. For some odd reason, when I take my eyes off the lycans, Granny’s wearing the most beautiful smile.

“We are out of time. Time is something I have been fighting against for eighteen years. They may be king’s sons, but they are far from worthy,” she whispers, and I take a step toward her.

She takes one step back, and I reach for her with wide eyes, but she shakes her head. My heart races in my chest. The intuitive sense of knowing what is to come makes my lips quiver, and my hand gropes the air for her. “I must let you go, my sweet girl. Use the crafts. Remember what I taught you.”

“No,” I choke out as the scraping sound of claws on rocks grows louder behind me. Without looking back, I know we are trapped, cornered with nowhere to run.

“I won’t go back there, Zirah. I can’t, not after the last time.” Her words confuse me. We have never left the mountains; it’s the only home I’ve ever known. Her eyes move behind me, narrowing furiously into slits.

“They found you, but they’ll regret it.” She chuckles before taking another step back.

Sensing something is wrong, I reach for her, but she takes off in a sudden sprint toward the cliff’s edge. My eyes widen in horror; it is far too high to jump from here. My scream is loud and visceral as I watch, horrified, as she takes her own life.

The ocean may be below, but no matter how fast the current is, it would be like hitting cement from these heights. If somehow she survived the initial impact, she would never survive the jagged rocks that line the bottom.

My feet skid on the surface, and I drop to my knees, peering over the edge into the darkness. Tears burn my vision when movement behind me makes me glare over my shoulder. She killed herself. She would rather die than go with them, which makes my mind up.

Granny is fearless; I am best off going with her if she fears these beasts. Quickly jumping to my feet, I back up, building my courage before running for the edge.

The snarl that rips through the air laces my skin with goosebumps. Then, the air is suddenly knocked from my lungs, and I am crushed beneath a heavy weight. I instantly thrash, scream, and try to free myself. The weight lifts slightly, and huge clawed hands grab me, rolling me onto my stomach, pinning me to the ground.

Furry feet stop next to me, and as a hot exhale of breath sails down my neck, I toss my head back. Pain vibrates through my skull as I make contact, and the beast on top of me groans and sniffs loudly. Turning, I smack him in the side of the head, only for him to shove me back onto my stomach. He presses a heavy knee between my shoulder blades and slams his fist into the side of my head. The blow is hard, and my eyes flutter as my ears ring loudly. My vision tunnels, and I blink. It feels like my head was cracked on the rock like an egg. Pain explodes, coursing through my skull and pulsating behind my eyes, stealing my vision. The next second, all I see is black.