Unwanted Mate Of The Lycan Kings (by jessica hall)

Chapter 1

Zirah

The howling sounds of wolves echoing through the cave alerts me first to the knowledge that the small

bubble we all live in is being invaded. Which is something we all have lived in fear of. We have waited

for this day, it was only a matter of time, and it appears our time is finally up. At first, I think I am

dreaming, that the echoes and screams are just part of the nightmare my mind is conjuring up.

Nightmares of this time have always plagued me, so I knew just like grandma something was coming,

but still we held onto the hope that our dreams were only based on our subconscious fear of this exact

moment.

Another blood-curdling scream has my eyes opening. It is too close, too loud to be mistaken for

anything in the dream world. Snarling and shouts has me sitting upright in my bed, followed by the first

vicious growl somewhere down the cave’s corridor.

My eyes scan the dark cave while I secretly pray that I am wrong. Yet the sound of flesh being ripped

apart and claws scraping rock has me tossing my legs out of bed. A bed is too nice of a word. It is

actually a boulder covered in bear’s fur and anything we have scavenged for cloth.

The caves are cold at night, and they are even chilly during the day, too, but they are our only place of

safety. Well, not anymore. My eyes dart to my grandmother's bed. However, she is no longer asleep

either. Instead, she is moving toward the fire that is reduced to glowing embers as the last of the log

burns away. She douses it with water, holding a finger to her lips, while my eyes move to entry into this

part we live.

These aren't regular wolves. Oh, how I wish they were. Ordinary wolves, I would have preferred. No,

these were werewolves: part human, part animal. Beasts of man.

These savage beasts are part of the reason the human population is being so terribly decimated. They

are also the reason we live in these caves, far away from the monsters that linger on the borders of the

mountains and surrounding the neighboring Kingdom.

More screams ring out loudly as I jump down from my resting spot, before making my way over to her.

She glances in the entrance direction, where the screams are coming from and growing louder, while

ushering me to follow her.

Not that there is any need. We have practiced this scenario more times than I can count, it has been

drummed 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 grandmother being nearly

70, she moves fast for an old woman.

“Hurry, Zirah, it isn't just werewolves,” she whispers, and I peer over my shoulder, suddenly fearing the

dark. My eyesight is better than most, but this cave is blinding in the darkness. We would be lost if we

weren't counting our steps right now and using our fingers that are scraping the walls for direction. Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

“What else?” I ask.

“The Lycan king's guards,” she answers. I know better than to doubt her. My grandmother 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 in a sense to

werewolves, but vastly different. They walk on two legs and are faster, stronger, and deadlier—also a

hell of a lot bigger.

“This way, hurry,” Grandma hisses, pushing me faster and further into the cave. “We can't let them find

you,” she says, grabbing my hand and leading me down another branch of the cave. Her words make

me glance at her, but her features are obscured by darkness.

“I knew it. I knew when that bastard left that he would rat us out. Now he has ruined everything. I need

more time, I should have had more time, the prophecy’s isn’t for another year,” she mutters before her

words cut.

“Grandma–” I try to question when her hand clamps over my mouth. We listen to the sounds of people

running, and I know it is the Lycans. Their pace is much faster than werewolves, and I can hear them

moving in closer. My grandmother's hair swipes my face as she stares in the direction we come from.

Her hands tremble as she muffles me. “If the King finds you and figures out what you are—” she trails

off, grabbing my arm and ripping me into a narrower area.

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

“Hush, my child, keep your voice down.”

“You're making no sense,” I whisper as she stops at the narrowing incline. She glances up at the hole

above, which looks like a tiny speck from the minimal light coming off the moon.

“I promised your mother. Now I have failed her. That fool led them right to you,” she whimpers, and I

grab her arm. Only for her to spin and clutch 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, and she starts climbing. I hurry after her, wanting to know

what she is talking about, but I get no more answers.

The sounds of running and men hollering make my breath halt in my throat 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 grandmother makes has dust and small rocks hitting me behind her, yet my hands

and feet refuse to lose the little traction I have on the small opening.

“Zirah, hurry!” my grandmother hisses, and no sooner had she breached the opening above did I hear

a snarl below. Grandma hauls herself out, and I look down to see amber eyes reflecting back at me.

Nothing gets you moving faster, knowing the only thing that awaits you is claws and teeth below. I

shriek. I can't help it, my grandmother waving 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 nails bed as I claw at the cave wall, shaking and kicking my leg. The Lycan roars

below, his claws slicing through my delicate skin like a hot knife on butter.