A Deal with the Lycan King

Chapter 002. Stranger

“Move,” Saeris rasped, shoving past a cluster of celebrating pack members.

Her hands fisted in the skirts of her gown, heavens knew she wanted it off now!…the one she’d spent weeks picking out. She yanked it high enough to free her legs, to flee. A few more steps, and she could get away from the suffocating joy of the hall.

She stumbled out into the night, the chill air biting at her tear-streaked face.

“Saeris?”

She skidded to a halt.

Her father sat just outside the stone steps, the moonlight catching on the metal of his wheelchair. “Saeris, what happened?”

“Not now,” she managed, her voice thick and hoarse. “I can’t—”

How could she?

“Saeris!”

Ianthe

But Saeris ran. Didn’t pause, didn't look back as the voice of her closest person to family chased her down the steps. She ran, barefoot now, she’d kicked them aside and tore through the darkened lawn.

Ianthe’s voice faded as the trees swallowed her whole. There was only one place left. Only one place that still felt like hers. The Silver Cove.

That hidden inlet on the eastern edge of Greenvale territory. Their place. The place where Flynn had first kissed her, beneath a pale moon and silver-streaked stars. A hollowed-out curve in the land where the rocks concealed the water, where the moonlight made the surface shimmer like spilled magic.

By the time she reached it, her bare feet were torn and bleeding. Her hair had frayed into tangles and loose curls, strands clinging to her damp cheeks. The fabric of her once-beautiful white gown now hung heavy and ruined.

She collapsed onto the flat stone ledge that overlooked the water and let the sobs come. Loud and ugly. Her arms wrapped around herself as if she could hold together the pieces that were already breaking apart.

The annual mating ceremony. The one night written into their blood, into their bones. A night meant to reveal sacred bonds. And now it would only be remembered for this:

Flynn choosing someone else.

Seven females had come of age this year. Twenty-one, the age when wolves reach full maturity. When their scent fully settled and the mate bond awakened.

But Saeris had felt it at nineteen. A rare thing.

She and Flynn had known.

They’d known!

She didn’t know how long she sat there…minutes, hours—until the moon had shifted across the sky. She didn’t hear it at first. Just… felt it. The shift in the air. The kind of silence that pressed against your bones.

A crack of movement. Not loud, but enough to make her spine lock, her breath hitch.

“Ianthe?” She searched, trying to find a shape in the darkness…until the glow of the moon caught a pair of eyes.

Her body stilled. She didn’t move, didn’t dare…as if stillness could cloak her. As if she could disappear if she just blended into the shadows. But the shadows didn’t hide her, they parted, and the thing stepped out.

It was massive. Eight feet tall, if not more. Broad and muscled beneath dark fur. Mother above…her limbs locked. A lycan.

No. No, no. That wasn’t possible. They were rumors, teachings. Creatures of the northern wilds—hundreds of miles from Greenvale territory. Kept at bay by treaties and bloodlines and sacred borders.

“Stay—stay back,” Saeris breathed. But it came out like a whimper.

She stumbled, slipping on the damp rock. The sharp cry that tore from her throat was silenced by the lake itself as she hit the stone.

With a blur of impossible grace, it was hunkered down over her, knees bent, muzzle inches from her throat—

She didn’t scream.

Too frightened to. She shut her eyes tight, squeezed them as hard as she could, willing herself to vanish. If she couldn’t see it, maybe it couldn’t see her. But its breath touched her skin and dragged a full-body shiver out of her.

It smelled of pine and snow and bloodied steel. Of wild mountains and moonlight. She hated that she didn’t hate it.

A low rumble echoed in its chest, a deep, bone-deep sound that went through her as its nose brushed along her collarbone, the curve of her neck, her jaw. Her skin tightened. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, too loud. Surely it could hear it.

And then, in a movement so fast she barely processed it—

Rip.

The front of her gown tore open, a single swipe of his clawed hand splitting the fabric up to her hip. Her eyes flew open. The shock of cold air hit her exposed skin, and terror bloomed anew, white-hot and dizzying.

But…

It pulled back. Space opened between them, not a full retreat, but a silent command.

Go.

Saeris didn’t hesitate. She scuttled backward, scraped to her feet, and ran. She didn't stop until the lights of the packhouse came into view. Her legs gave out near the edge of the clearing, and she bent over, gasping, hands braced on her knees. Sweat and tears mingled on her skin. But she was alive.

The Lycan had let her go. Why? She didn't question further.

Not when her legs were still trembling and her mind still hadn’t caught up.

The night had turned cold, unnervingly quiet. She’d been at Silver Cove far longer than she realized.

When she finally raised her head, her gaze snagged on the wide, upper window of the packhouse, the one she knew all too well.

Two silhouettes stood behind the glass.

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to look away. Was about to work up the courage to walk away when someone grasped her arm and spun her around.

Saeris blinked at the three men, dumbfounded as she beheld their faces. She knew them, but tonight, there was something slightly different about them, something crueler in their brown, near-black eyes.

The one grasping her arm smiled down at her, revealing slightly stained teeth. “The desperate one,” he mocked, running an eye over Saeris. “Oh, no, the Alpha didn't find her to be his mate, what should she do?”

Of course, they do come at her. Stupid pack tyrants.

Saeris yanked her arm, but his grip only tightened.

“What do you want?” she demanded instead, keeping her spine straight.

The two flanking him leered at her. “Just a little Mating Night fun,” one murmured, brushing a hand toward her face, fingers ghosting too close to her hair—then down, toward the curve of her thigh where the dress had torn. “Bit much, don’t you think? Looks like you wanted the attention.”

“f**k off.” She pulled back again but his hand stayed locked on her.

She might be close to the pack house but she was still a bit far.

If she cried for help, would someone answer? Would Flynn answer? She couldn’t be that lucky again; she’d probably used up her allotted portion of luck with the lycan.

“Leave me alone,” she snarled, louder this time—loud enough for the wind to carry it.

The one holding her sneered. “Big words for a mateless wolf on a sacred night. You don’t belong to anyone now. That means…” He leaned closer, the heat of his breath making her stomach churn. “We can have you.”

Saeris bared her teeth. “Get. Your. Hands. Off.”

He didn’t. The one to her left slid a hand down her side. She jerked away, straight into the chest of the third one, rough fingers knotted in her hair.

“Stop it—”

But her voice cracked as they began to force her backward. Back toward the tree line.

“No one’s out here,” one of them hissed. “Don’t pretend you weren’t asking for it.”

She thrashed. Kicked. Bit. One of them shoved her hard enough that she staggered and fell, the ground rushing up beneath her—

But she never hit it.

Strong hands caught her by the shoulders and set her gently upright. Warm hands. Solid. They lingered just long enough for her to feel the difference—to know they didn’t belong to those bastards.

“There you are, wolfling,” said a low, sensual voice she didn’t recognize. “Sorry, I'm late. I was looking everywhere for you.”

Her body calmed.

“Hey—hey, we’re busy here—” one of them began, only to stop mid-word. Because the stranger’s gaze lifted—and his eyes burned gold. Gold like fire. Gold like ancient coin. Gold that dared them to move.

“Are you really?” There was enough of a bite beneath his last word that the three men stiffened. “Leave. Now.”

They didn't waste another minute like they’d sensed something Saeris didn't.

Cowards. All of them.

Saeris stepped out of the stranger’s arms the moment they were gone, heart still hammering, throat raw. She turned to thank him, and then the breath left her lungs.