The Blessed Reborn Lycan

Chapter Fourteen

Edgar POV

I stood frozen in the hallway, one hand braced against the stone wall as though it were the only thing keeping me upright.

Amy’s voice carried through the door. Steady. Gentle.

I pressed my forehead to the wood, my teeth clenched hard enough to ache.

“Don’t surface,” I beg to my wolf quietly, tears falling freely from my face.

Vargr churned beneath my skin. Grief-stricken, furious, desperate to claw his way forward and howl his forgiveness into the night, but I didn’t deserve that mercy...

The pain from that night still lingers...

***

...Alright you mangy dogs, get ready to head back to the packhouse. Next rotation for perimeter watch starts in 5 minutes, they'll be at the post in 2 minutes to relieve you...

A moment later a reply in the link.

...Yes Gamma on our way...

Good, they'd better be quick or I'll just have them do an extra lap around the entire perimeter, rules be damned.

Edgar, doing one more round alone on the far end of the packhouse before heading home, heard something coming up from behind him. He quickly turned to wrap a hand around their throat as Vargr lets out a growl before he can hold it. He smiles wickedly at the person before him and loosens his grip.

“Neris, now what are you doing out here cheeky girl?”

She giggles in reply, paying no mind to the grip that was on her neck a moment ago, she always did like it a bit rough. Her face goes into a fake pout and she says,

“Well Mr. Gamma, I was trying to sleep but just couldn't. Kept hearing noises in my room, could you help me sleep?”

Edgar resisted her many attempts to get him upstairs before. Last time she almost won when she had kissed him, but Vargr took over. Shifting and running off to the woods for a fresh kill to wash off the scent of that ‘vile woman’ as he calls her.

This time though, Neris showed up in the forest almost completely bare of clothes, a red lingerie piece in a silk robe.

“Please my Gamma, help me rest, I am so alone and need the touch of a strong wolf to help mine heal from the loss I have dealt with.”

Neris had lost her mate months ago in the rogue raid that killed the Luna, Neris has been inconsolable and almost went rogue with madness when Edgar soothed her. Since then, Neris has been obsessed with making Edgar hers.

Neris began to undo her robe and wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him before he could stop her, and he lost all control with that.

Edgar's own weakness of being unable to save the Luna and his pack that night, along with some soldiers losing faith in his strength, made it easy for a “damsel in distress” to weasel her way in through compliments and constantly stroking his ego.

Edgar barely registered the silk robe and dirt beneath his palms, or the heat of the woman beneath him.

There had been a flicker in the bond earlier, a tug, a faint unease when he laid atop Neris.

He ignored it.

Edgar slid inside Neris, groaning in pleasure. Neris was laughing and moaning with each thrust, knowing she finally won. Edgar resists as Vargr scrapes furiously at the front of Edgars mind, begging him to stop.

...Please Edgar!! This is not right! She is not our mate, why are you doing this to our mate and unborn pup?!...

Then the bond tightened.

Vargr snarled louder, claws scraping at his ribs.

And then, something formed.

A presence, small, fragile, brilliant.

Edgar pauses, Vargr stills, and his breath hitched.

...Our pup, we can actually feel her, she's here...

Vargr whispered in awe.

The bond surged... and then snapped.

Edgar gasped, rolling away as agony ripped through his chest. The mate bond tore next, violent and final, like something being ripped out by the roots.

He screamed bloody murder that echoed through the forest.

With Edgar weak, Vargr surged forward, eyes locked on the woman scrambling back in terror in the dirt.

Teeth bared, Vargr stalked toward her, every instinct screaming to end her.

Then, another flicker.

A distant echo of his pup brushed the bond, faint but unmistakable.

Vargr faltered.

A low, broken whimper tore from his throat, and instead of striking, he turned and ran, the possibility of his pup still being alive too strong to go for the kill.

Edgar barely remembered shifting.

He remembered dirt beneath his feet, and in the distance, a guard shouting.

“The Alpha’s sister is losing a lot of blood!! Too much, even for a wolf...”

The words didn’t fully land before Vargr took off again.

He knew where they were now, him and his wolf just prayed they weren't too late when they crashed through the clinic doors...

***

With the memory resurfacing, pain flooded his body again, and Vargr takes control and darts out and away from the packhouse and the festivities.

The forest blurred around him as he tore through the trees, ripping through his clothes. This shift was quick but painful, grief and rage fueling his speed.

Vargr wanted blood. Wanted her. He cursed himself for sparing her that night, he should have torn out her throat then find his family.

Then, a scent. Familiar.

His stride faltered but recognition sparked too late.

A figure in the distance, body and face covered with a red cloak, but he knew exactly who it was. He opened his mouth to howl, and pain exploded in his neck. A faint whimper being let out instead.

His legs buckled and the world tilted.

The last thing Edgar saw before darkness took him was the cloaked figure lowering their arm.

And then, nothing.

***

Minutes before in the distance, a royal horse carriage quickly dashes through the forest. Their meeting at the palace running later than usual, the Head of the Elders, Elder Kaelen, was fighting hard with the king to be the one to accompany him to the Miravael pack. He was much older than the others, and had a condition that was not to be taken lightly that only the Lycan King was aware of.

Kaelen had heard about Miravael before, it being formed after the war from small groups of burnt down packs in the area that wandered together. They found a large opening in the forest near a lake and made their home there.

Normally one of the lesser elders would accompany the Lycan King and the Royal Beta, but the dream he had the past year shook him to his core.

In his dream, two halves of a full moon in the sky, one white and the other in shadow, becomes one. Then a violet light shines down on a lake in a forest, before a wave of green fog bursts out from the trees and he awakes.

He did not recognize the lake in his dreams, though a shiver ran up his spine when the Lycan King mentioned the name of the pack, and it was settled that he must join them.

Kaelan did some research on this pack before leaving the palace. He finally speaks up in the carriage, asking the Lycan King a question he's been itching to ask since the mention of this pack.

“My King, were you aware of the two rogue attacks on this pack? No matter how far back I looked into this pack, there were only ever two attacks. One was about 19 years ago, a large amount of their pack was destroyed, and the Luna was killed that night while pregnant with Alpha Ned’s second child.

This attack was actually linked to some witches that were captured, but the only information we got from them was “They had to die for the sake of the Coven.” We believe they were some fanatics to the old head of the coven, Hexa, who is rumored long gone, but no relation. The second was 13 years ago, nowhere near as brutal, more disorganized and as if just to cause damage with only a handful of new wolves that perished. Why do you think this pack never had any bloodshed, but twice in a 5 year period?”

The King sat in the corner of the carriage, eyes closed, hidden in the dark away from the glow of the night.

For a moment, he saw it again. The cliff, midnight blue water stretching to the horizon. But this time, instead of the woman he had always seen in his dreams since he was a child, there were two figures. A little girl in the same dress standing close to a woman in white. The moon goddess herself, her hair like silver moonlight, dress flowing like liquid light. The child’s gaze was unwavering, fixed on the water, unafraid of how close to the edge.

A shiver ran down Ashavar’s spine. That girl… he knew, somehow, she was important. More than any dream should allow.

He thought of that night, when the memory of the cliff made Kor stir like a storm trapped beneath the skin that night. Ashavar awoke in a violent half-shift, the room around him splintering under the force of the Lycan’s anger. Furniture splintered, the scent of ozone and blood thickened the air, and the shadows seemed to recoil from the raw, primal power coiling within him.

Kor was a beast unlike any other. Feral, relentless, the pain and loss his kind had received fueled his fury worth a thousand Lycans. His claws could tear through stone. His jaws could crush bone without hesitation. He was anger incarnate, and his rage needed containment, not counsel.

Though there was always this feeling that he had something ripped away from him.

Ashavar had trained for this his entire life. Centuries of control, centuries of restraint, and a strength of will that could bend Kor’s fury into obedience without crushing it entirely. Though tonight, he almost lost that battle. His Lycan fought within him, twisting, snarling, threatening to break free.

The battle lasted hours, though it felt like minutes. Half-shifted, he could feel his claws tearing at the walls, could feel Kor’s teeth gnashing just shy of his own control. One wrong move, and he could have gone feral, lost entirely to the Lycan’s hunger for destruction.

By dawn, the room was in ruins. Splintered wood and upturned furniture littered the floor, yet Ashavar stood, trembling slightly, eyes burning with a mix of exhaustion and unyielding power. Kor had quieted, coiled like a snake waiting for the slightest command, but the anger beneath the surface remained. Always simmering. Always ready. Only Ashavar’s unparalleled strength, both of body and will, kept it tethered, contained.

Ashavar looks towards Kaelan, and opens his eyes. Only his deep orange eyes visible, he speaks low.

“The second attack, that is the night I almost went feral.”

Before Kaelan could react or reply, a small whimper is heard in the distance just as the coachman says aloud “We have arrived at the entrance to the packhouse. Welcome to the Miravael Pack.”