Bought by Lycan Kings

The Ice and the Wolves

My eyes fluttered open to a world of biting, agonizing cold. The sting of the freezing air in my lungs was so sharp it felt like breathing glass. I was lying in a shivering heap on a bed of rotted, damp floorboards, surrounded by the skeletal remains of a ruined wooden cabin. Above me, the half-collapsed roof let in a steady, merciless dusting of snow, the white flakes swirling in the dim, gray light of the dying storm.

My body was shaking so violently that my teeth clicked together in a frantic, uncontrollable rhythm. I'm alive, I thought, my mind hazy and sluggish. But for how long?

Instinctively, my numb, stiff hands curled over my stomach. I pressed my palms flat against my lower abdomen, desperate to shield the tiny, fragile life growing inside me from the lethal frost. My simple, wet clothes clung to my skin, completely soaked through from my tumble down the ravine. My voluptuous hourglass figure, usually a source of soft warmth, felt like an icy prison. My deep curves, which had always filled out my simple garments, offered no protection against the sub-zero chill of the Dead Zone.

I squeezed my eyes shut, a single frozen tear clinging to my eyelashes. I was so incredibly weak. My natural scent—wild honey, cold mountain rain, and sweet, creamy vanilla—felt muted, buried under the heavy smell of damp earth and rotting pine.

Suddenly, the fragile silence of the cabin was shattered.

The weak wooden door was blasted off its hinges with a deafening, explosive crash. Splinters of ancient oak rained down onto the snow-covered floorboards. I gasped, flinching backward into the corner of the ruined wall, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

Through the ruined doorway, three massive, steaming wolves stepped into the dark room. Their giant paws crushed the fallen debris, and their heavy chests heaved with exertion, sending thick plumes of white steam curling into the freezing air. Their eyes burned with a raw, unhinged fury that made the very air in the cabin turn static with power.

I knew them instantly. Even in their beast forms, their terrifying, dominant auras were unmistakable.

The wolf on the left was a massive, raw-muscled beast with dark brown fur tipped in silver. His smoldering hazel eyes shifted to a bright, warning yellow as he locked his gaze onto me. Thorion. The scent of fresh cut cedarwood, rain-soaked earth, and smoky pine rolled off his steaming fur, instantly cutting through the freezing air.

To the right stood a lean, lethal, ash-gray wolf. His movements were silent and terrifyingly graceful, his slate-gray eyes cold and calculating like polished steel. Zephyr. The sharp scent of crisp winter ozone, cold gunmetal, and bitter black ink clung to him, sending a shiver of pure dread down my spine.

But it was the wolf in the center that held my breath hostage. He was a towering, broad-shouldered monster of solid, jet-black fur, standing far larger than any normal wolf. His piercing amber-gold eyes glowed in the dim light of the cabin, fixed on me with a terrifying, obsessive intensity. Ragnar. The heavy, primal scent of ancient sandalwood, raw leather, and dark, heavy musk flooded the small room, instantly overwhelming my senses and triggering a deep, electric warmth in my chest despite the freezing cold.

I pressed myself harder against the rotting wood of the corner, my voice trembling as I spoke. "Please... stay back."

The giant black wolf let out a low, vibrating growl that shook the floorboards beneath me. He stepped forward, his massive paws leaving deep impressions in the snow. He didn't look angry; he looked completely, unhingedly possessive.

With a sudden, fluid motion, the black wolf began to shift. The sound of snapping bones and stretching muscle filled the quiet cabin, a raw display of Lycan power. Within seconds, the beast vanished, replaced by Ragnar's towering, six-foot-six frame of solid, corded muscle. He stood completely naked in the freezing wind, utterly unfazed by the sub-zero temperature. The thick, jagged battle scar running from his left temple down to his jawline twitched, and the heavy black runic tattoos wrapping around his forearms seemed to pulse with dark energy.

Beside him, Thorion shifted as well, his massive, raw-muscled frame filling the remaining space in the small cabin. He glared down at me, his chest heaving. "What were you thinking?" Thorion roared, his voice a thick, heavy wave of raw dominance that made me flinch. "You ran into a blizzard! You could have died! Our fated mate, freezing to death in a ditch!"

"I am not your mate!" I cried out, my voice cracking as I huddled tighter into myself, trying to hide my curves from their intense, burning stares. "I am just your collateral! A financial transaction! You said so yourselves!"

Zephyr shifted last, his lean, whip-like musculature stepping into the light. He adjusted his posture, his slate-gray eyes narrowing coldly as he looked at my curled-up form. "We signed a contract to keep you here, Morana. But you fled as if we were going to execute you. Why?" He took a step closer, his sharp nose twitching. "Your scent... it's changing again. It's sweeter. Sweeter than before. And you are guarding your middle."

My heart stopped. No. No, please, they can't know. I squeezed my arms tighter around my stomach, my knuckles turning stark white. "I'm just cold," I lied, my voice shaking so badly the words were barely intelligible. "I just want to be left alone."

"Left alone to die?" Ragnar's voice dropped to a dark, authoritative rasp that cut through the cabin like a physical blade. His amber-gold eyes flashed with a dangerous, possessive light. He ignored the freezing wind, his gaze locked entirely on my flushed cheeks and trembling lips.

"You belong to us, Morana," Thorion growled, taking a massive step forward, his hazel eyes burning. "Your pack sold you, but we bought you to keep you. If we let you go, the rival packs will tear you apart. Do you have any idea what they would do to a female with your scent? With your body?"

"I don't care!" I sobbed, the tears finally spilling over and freezing on my cheeks. "I don't want to be a prize! I don't want to be locked in a cage!"

Zephyr narrowed his eyes, his cold, calculating mind clearly putting the pieces together. "She isn't just running from the contract, Ragnar. Look at her posture. Look at how she shields her womb. She is hiding a secret. A secret that she thinks will make us discard her."

At his words, Ragnar's jaw muscles bunched tightly. The raw, heavy musk of his scent flared, thick and suffocatingly warm. He stepped past Thorion and Zephyr, his towering, naked form casting a massive shadow over my shivering body. He didn't look at them. He only looked at me.

He dropped to his knees beside my soft, freezing body, the heat radiating from his skin like a furnace. He reached out, his heavy gold signet ring catching the dim light, and gently but firmly took my chin in his hand, forcing me to meet his piercing amber-gold eyes.

"We found you," he whispered.