Chapter 3
The king's body snapped into a battle-ready stance so quickly I barely registered the movement. One second he was seated across from me still, imposing and the next, he was a coiled storm at the carriage door.
His warriors outside growled warnings. The carriage slowed, wheels grinding softly against the earth.
My chest tightened. "What's happening?"
The Lycan King didn't look back at me. His fingers curled around the doorframe, claws sliding out with a soft metallic scrape.
"We're being followed."
The words struck like lightning.
Followed?
By who?
Before I could speak again, he stepped out, closing the door behind him with a commanding finality that made my pulse stumble.
I pressed my palms to the window, straining to see through the dim blue light.
Outside, the forest had changed.
The trees were darker here—twisted, ancient, whispering secrets through the wind.
Shadows coiled between the branches as though alive.
A chill crept up my arms.
One of the king's warriors approached the door. His armor was marked with the insignia of a crescent moon pierced by a claw—royal guard. His eyes were glowing faintly, scanning the darkness with sharpened senses.
"Stay inside," he told me. "His Majesty will handle it."
"I wasn't planning to run out," I muttered, though my heart pounded with far more fear than defiance.
But silence was worse. Silence made imagination dangerous.
I cracked the door open and slipped out before he could stop me.
The warrior growled under his breath. "If you step out of this carriage, he will—"
I cut him off. "He'll what? Glare at me again?"
The warrior paused.
"Not exactly," he murmured. "He's…
protective."
Protective.
The word buzzed strangely through me.
Before I could question it further, a roar split the forest in half.
Not the Lycan King's.
Something else answered him, a jagged, unnatural sound that scraped across my bones.
The warrior's head snapped toward the trees.
"You need to get back inside."
"What is that?" I whispered.
He didn't answer.
I forced myself to look around.
The king stood several yards ahead, his back to us, shoulders squared. The moonlight caught the dark markings that coiled up his arms—runes or scars, I couldn't tell—which pulsed faintly with power.
His golden eyes were fixed on the darkness beyond.
A shadow moved.
No—slid.
A figure stepped into the clearing, tall and lean, wrapped in a cloak that seemed stitched from night itself. Its face was hidden, but an unnatural aura seeped from it, twisting the air.
The king spoke first.
"You dare trespass on my path."
Its head tilted, voice like shards of glass scraping together. "The girl is not yours to take."
Every hair rose on my body.
It knew about me.
The king's voice darkened. "I claimed her."
The figure hissed. "Claim or not, she is marked."
Marked?
My breath caught.
The figure took another step, and the shadows around its feet writhed like living smoke. "Give her to us, King. Or bleed for her."
The king didn't hesitate.
"She is under my protection. And anyone who seeks her will be destroyed."
The creature lifted a long, bone-thin hand, and the shadows rippled outward.
The king moved first.
His body blurred as he lunged, faster than any wolf I had ever seen. The impact shook the ground, rattling the carriage. The warrior shoved me behind him.
They clashed with a sound like steel tearing stone.
Snarls. Roars. The sickening crack of limbs colliding with impossible force.
But the creature wasn't alone.
Two more shadows peeled off the trees, silent and deadly, gliding toward the carriage.
The warrior drew his blade, cursing under his breath. "Stay behind me."
"Wasn't planning on doing anything else," I whispered, though my voice shook.
One shadow launched at us.
The warrior blocked the strike, sparks spraying as steel met something black and shifting. I stumbled back, nearly falling, but another warrior appeared at my side, grabbing my arm.
"Get her inside!" he barked.
Before he could pull me, something exploded at the edge of the trees—roots snapping upward as if ripped from the earth.
The king threw the creature across the clearing, its cloak torn, shadows peeling off like smoke from a dying fire.
His chest heaved with controlled fury, golden eyes burning bright.
The creature screeched—a sound that made my ears ring.
It pointed a clawed finger at me. "She will awaken. And you cannot stop what she is."
My blood ran cold.
Awaken?
What I am?
The king moved so fast I barely saw it.
One strike.
A blur of claws.
A roar that shook the air.
The creature dissolved into a cloud of black mist, scattering into the treetops.
The remaining shadows fled, melting into the forest as though swallowed by the night.
Silence returned—heavy, trembling, broken only by my ragged breaths.
The king stood still for a moment, listening, scenting, making sure the threat was gone.
Then he turned.
His eyes locked on me instantly.
Not on his warriors.
Not on the damage.
On me.
He strode forward with lethal purpose. The closer he came, the more I realized he was restraining something—his voice, his rage, or perhaps something darker beneath the surface.
He stopped in front of me, towering, breath uneven.
"What did I command you to do?" he asked quietly.
I swallowed. "Stay inside."
"And what did you do?" His voice dropped lower.
I lifted my chin. "I didn't want to sit in a box listening to monsters stalk us."
I expected fury.
Instead, he exhaled a slow, controlled breath, shadowed with something like relief.
"You could have been taken," he said. His hand lifted—hesitated—then rested on my cheek, thumb grazing the skin beneath my eye. "They were here for you. For what's inside you."
I froze.
"What is inside me?"
He didn't answer.
A muscle in his jaw ticked, and his eyes roamed my face as if debating how much truth to reveal.
Finally, he said, "You carry a power older than my kingdom. Older than any pack. And they can sense it."
"My pack never sensed anything," I whispered.
"Your pack is blind."
His voice was low and dangerous, but not toward me—toward them.
The warriors awaited commands. The clearing waited for breath.
The king leaned closer, gaze burning with intent.
"From this moment," he said, "you do not leave my sight."
A shiver ran down my spine. "Is that an order?"
"It's more than an order."
His voice wrapped around me like a vow carved in fire.
"It is a promise."