Mated to the Lycan

CHAPTER I

Adair

I was strung in an X position, pinned on the rock at each limb with a thick collar on the neck and waist which prevented my movement.

Time was endless in the deep dungeons beneath the castle, each day bleeding into the other. Day and night were unknown to me as time passed excruciatingly slow. My only company in the dark cell were my dark thoughts and the starving rats who had found my flesh appetizing.

The fantasies of revenge and retribution I had before that cursed day had dissipated into nothingness. I no longer cared about anything, the pain within was much worse than anything they dealt me with. I was forever drowning and suspended in an abyss of despair, misery and pain.

No longer cared as I was mocked and treated less than a child's ragdoll.

No longer cared as my wrists and ankles were slashed open, draining my life source.

No longer cared as they spat and threw dirt into my eyes.

No longer cared as I was whipped, my skin flayed to the bone.

No longer cared as spears, the metal tips burning red hot were stabbed through me repeatedly.

No longer cared as molten silver was poured over my head. The smell of my burning flesh, a now familiar smell.

Since the day Myra, my mate, was brutally wrenched from me, I hadn't given the vampires the satisfaction of hearing my voice nor my screams, which only seemed to infuriate them more and in retaliation, they became sadistic with each torture.

The pain was nothing compared to the one in my heart. It felt like my heart had been bludgeoned repeatedly till all that was left was a void with hot needles pricking my chest with each breath.

When I did sleep, sagged against the chains, I was tormented more by the happy memories we had had. The sound of her laugh, the bright twinkle of her eyes as she lovingly gazed at me. No matter how sad the dreams were, I embraced them just to torture myself that I couldn't protect my mate, my other half.

It was said that where your mates go, you follow and yet, I couldn't do that. The vampires knew no matter how much they hurt or tortured me, my immortality would always revive me. I was chased to the edge of death by each torture, fully ready to embrace the caress of death and yet, each time it was ruthlessly snatched from my grasp.

Yet, I had tiny hopes for a rescue. As the King of the Lycans, one of the strongest factions of immortals, surely my family would have scoured high and low for me. My brother Orion would have been king by now as the throne couldn't be left vacant for long, but knowing Orion, he would never give up on the search for me.

The door to my prison cell rattled open as a low whistle sounded. I didn't bother looking up, I already knew what they came for. The guard tramped up the stairs, coming to stand behind me.

The press of cold silver on my wrist burned me as a deep line was carved into my skin drawing blood. The same cuts were made severely on my other wrists and ankles before they could regenerate.

I felt myself go lightheaded as the drip of my blood into the channel resonated loudly in the cell.

A living blood bag.

That was what I had been turned into.

**

I lay on my side in a corner of the cell, as I stared at the wall in front of me, not seeing it. My mind went back to the day I'd been released from the chains only to be escorted down to this cell, an even deeper and damper cell, dimly illuminated by the blazing torch in the corridor.

Finally free of the restraining shackles, I had dug my hands into the soft earth and walls looking for something- anything sharp I could use to sever my neck and end my pitiful existence. Maybe if I slashed hard and fast, I could at least tear off enough to end my pitiful existence.

The only way to kill an immortal was to sever the head from the neck (decapitation) or to burn them in the undying fire, till nothing was left to be regenerated.

I had wailed in despair after the frenzied search around the cell had proved fruitless. The stones had been wedged so tightly, that they could not be pried apart.

Now I lay on the damp soil resigned to my fate, the frigid air in the cell seeping into my bones. My hunting gear or what was left of it was nothing more than scraps of clothing, held together by flimsy tendrils of thread. They offered no protection against the biting cold. My stomach growled loudly as another wave of dizziness hit. I was starving. The last time I had a meal was the morning of my capture. My flesh had long since pulled taut against my ribs, my skin an ashen sickening pallor.

The little fire of hope I had of a rescue had long burned out. No one was coming. My family - a brother and step-father, probably thought me dead by now. Who knew how much time had passed?

I absently scratched at the silver collar on my neck, the skin there still itchy from the caked dried blood. Once or twice, I had madly clawed at my neck repeatedly, desperate to join my mate and leave this bleak cell behind.

Of course, I had coughed awake moments later, the savage cuts healed.

Day after day, I stared emptily into the distance lost in thoughts. Many times, I have caught myself laughing hysterically or wishing the guards would come to torture me. Anything to end this bleeding solitude and my impending insanity.

**

I had been forgotten in the deepest, darkest parts of the dungeons. The guards no longer made their rounds or came to jeer at my lying form. I am now mad.

For centuries, my only companions have been the scurrying rats who no longer feared my presence. Many times over the centuries, I heard laughter and the sound of music above me and swayed in rhythm, moving around as much as the chains on my neck and legs could allow.

The mouth-watering scents of food and mead that wafted down the dungeons made my stomach shudder violently, but yet I welcomed it, closing my eyes as I imagined myself tearing into meat, a goblet of wine in my hand.

I was happily moaning in my imagination when suddenly a new scent assaulted my nose.

My eyes widened in confusion and I hastily sat up sniffing at the air.

Mate

My beast muttered. The first time hearing its voice since Myra died. It was said that once your beast fell silent, a Lycan was as good as dead. Our beast, a spirit guide we had both been blessed and cursed with by the Moon goddess was ever present and always guiding our species.

It was impossible. I was definitely hallucinating its voice and what it had said. It can't be Myra. She was d-dead.

Not Myra, but Mate.

I sat up. A second chance mate? Had I grown fully mad now to imagine such a thing?

Mate!

My beast's voice rang loud and clear as a crystal this time. I was not hallucinating or imagining this.

I felt a surge of energy run through me as her scent hit again. It was not Myra.

S-second chance mate.

I pulled at the silver chains shackled on the wall, connecting to the collar on my neck and wrenched it free from the wall. I stared dumbstruck as it rained stones and bags of dust, unable to believe I still had the strength in me to do that. My palms were sizzling where the silver had made contact but I didn't have the time to register the pain.

Next was the chains on my right leg... With a grunt, I yanked with all my might, feeling a little tremor in the ground beneath, but the long pin somehow remained secured. The muscles in my weakened body strained heavily as I gave it a second yank, getting desperate as her scent got stronger.

She was so close... Must get to her...

The heavy pin popped free, the recoil throwing me onto my ass. Quickly, I scrambled up and focused on the shackles on my left leg. Bringing out my claws, I sharpened them on the stones nearby before attacking the chain.

My desperation made my aim blurry and I tore the tendon in my ankle. The pain was unregistered as my leg popped free and I almost did a celebratory dance, unable to believe the feat I'd just achieved.

The only thing stopping me was the silver door locked into place at the entrance of the cell. Did I have the strength to break through the door or the energy to withstand another contact with silver? Only one way to find out, I guess.

A hiss of pain escaped my mouth as I gripped the cell door, the silver searing me. I was already envisioning my escape and a small silver door would not stop me from meeting her. I heaved but nothing happened.

Adjusting my grip, I heaved again. Nothing.

Desperation and urgency ran through me as her scent began to fade.

No!

I pulled at the gates even as my hands screamed not to and finally felt it begin to shift. I would rather die than face another eternity knowing I lost my second mate.

One side of the cell door broke free from the surrounding walls and I managed to drag it a few inches inward, creating a small path for me to pass through.

Glancing at the cell one last time in disgust, I dragged myself through the small path. It wasn't wide enough for my wide albeit thin frame to pass through and my skin ended up getting snared by the silver gates burning me.

Nothing I hadn't been through before.

With a grunt, I yanked myself free of the gates and sniffed the air once more. Her scent was almost gone!

In haste, I clambered up the stairs with as much speed as my weak body could muster.

I need her...so much...

This time I would not let her go. Would protect her with every fibre in my being. What was she doing in this vampire's evil lair? I would save her.

Protect! My beast screamed in my head.

I felt pity for her. She would have me for a mate. I was now a past shadow of myself, driven to the edge of sanity. But still, no matter how she saw me... I will never let her go.

She was mine!