Moonbound To Hell: The Cursed Lycan's Mate

Chapter 5

The car rolled out of Aethoria as night swallowed the road behind us. I stared out the tinted window, watching the landscape shift from polished city streets to dense, ancient forest. I wondered why the Lycan King didn’t just choose to stay in one of the packs. Why build something separate? But then again, this was the King we were talking about. A man who buried three wives after claiming them didn’t follow normal rules.

I pulled out my new phone. The battery was already below twenty percent. My snacks were almost finished too — just a few crumbs left in the packet. Frustration simmered under my skin. We had been driving for hours. Night had fallen completely, thick and heavy around the vehicle.

When I looked up, I caught the driver staring at me through the rearview mirror again. He had been doing that the entire journey — quick, uneasy glances like he expected me to burst into flames or break down crying. It was strange, but I said nothing. I was used to being watched like a predator.

After several minutes of silence, he spoke quietly, almost hesitantly. “Miss… aren’t you scared?”

I paused, considering the question. Scared? The word felt foreign now. Surviving in Thornwall Pack had burned most normal fears out of me. Death threats were daily conversations. Sleep came with one eye open. Fear was a luxury I couldn’t afford.

I met his eyes in the mirror. “Nope.”

He blinked, clearly unsettled by how calmly I answered. He didn’t ask anything else after that.

The road grew narrower, winding through thick trees that looked older than time itself. Soon, massive iron gates rose ahead of us, towering and imposing, engraved with snarling wolves and ancient runes. The moment the royal crest on the car was recognized, the gates swung open silently.

I sat up straighter as we drove through.

Ebonspire Fortress wasn’t just a building. It was an entire kingdom hidden in the forest. I counted at least ten to fifteen separate structures, each behind its own fortified gate — training grounds, smaller mansions, what looked like barracks, and gardens that stretched endlessly.

We stopped in front of the largest building. My jaw practically hit the floor. This place was heaven — cold, dark, and terrifyingly beautiful. Even the driveway was made of polished black tiles that gleamed under the moonlight. The air felt heavier here, charged with raw power.

I stepped out of the car, my combat boots sounding too loud against the pristine tiles. An elderly man in a crisp black suit and white gloves emerged from the grand entrance. He paused when he saw me, frowning slightly as he looked toward the car.

“Has Miss Evie Throne not stepped out yet?” he asked the driver, clearly confused.

I raised an eyebrow. “I am Miss Evie Throne.”

The man turned to me fully, eyes widening as he took in my fitted black top, black jeans, and combat boots. He recovered quickly and bowed deeply. “My deepest apologies, Lady Evie. I… was not expecting…”

He trailed off. I could finish the sentence for him. He had never seen a royal bride arrive looking like she just walked out of a warrior pit instead of a beauty salon. And certainly never one this calm.

I nodded once, keeping my expression dead calm. “Lead the way.”

He gestured for me to follow, and we entered the building. The interior was even more overwhelming — high vaulted ceilings, dark marble floors, chandeliers that looked like frozen shadows, and walls lined with ancient weapons and portraits of previous kings. Servants moved like silent ghosts, eyes downcast. No one dared look at me directly.

The butler — I assumed that’s what he was — led me through a long corridor. “His Majesty is expecting you in the throne room. He does not like to be kept waiting.”

I said nothing.

We stopped before two massive double doors carved with snarling wolves. The butler knocked once, then pushed them open.

The throne room was enormous. At the far end, seated on a raised black throne, was King Nyx Calder. But he wasn’t alone.

A man was chained on his knees in front of the dais, face bloody and swollen. Two guards stood over him. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood.

Nyx’s deep voice cut through the room like ice. “You stole from my armory and sold weapons to rogues. Give me one reason I shouldn’t skin you alive right now.”

The man whimpered, shaking violently.

Nyx’s silver eyes suddenly flicked to me as I stepped further into the room. A cruel smile curved his lips. “Ah. The new bride arrives at the perfect time.” He leaned forward on his throne. “Tell me, hybrid. What should I do with this traitor? Give me your honest opinion.”

The entire room went silent. Every eye turned to me.

I looked at the broken man on the floor, then back at Nyx. “Chain both his hands and legs so he can’t move. Build a small iron cage around his face and glue it to the wall. Then fill the cage with hungry rats. They’ll eat through his face and mouth to escape. Slowly.”

A few sharp gasps echoed around the throne room. Nyx stared at me for a long second, something dark and pleased flashing in his cold silver eyes.

“Do it,” he ordered the guards. “Exactly as she described.”

The guards dragged the screaming man away. The heavy doors slammed shut behind them, cutting off his terrified cries.

Now Nyx turned his full attention to me.

He was even more imposing in person than the pictures I had seen. 6'8" of pure, lethal muscle, shoulder-length dark hair falling across his sharp face, silver eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. He wore a black tailored shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing scarred forearms and ancient runes tattooed into his skin. His presence filled the entire room like a storm about to break.

He didn’t stand. He didn’t speak at first. He simply stared at me as I walked forward, his gaze cold and dissecting, like I was a new weapon he was deciding whether to use or destroy.

I stopped several feet away from the throne and met his eyes without bowing. The air between us crackled.

Nyx tilted his head slightly. His voice, when it finally came, was deep, authoritative, and completely devoid of warmth.

“So this is the hybrid they sent me.” His silver eyes raked over my body slowly — from my combat boots to my braided hair. “You look more like a rogue w***e than a queen.”

The insult landed like a slap, but I didn’t react.

He rose from the throne in one fluid motion and descended the steps. Each step echoed. When he stopped in front of me, the height difference was overwhelming. He smelled like dark cedar, smoke, and raw power.

“Most women who come here cry or beg,” he said quietly, circling me slowly like a predator. “You don’t. Interesting.” He stopped behind me, leaning down so his breath brushed my ear. “But it won’t save you. I will knot you tonight. I will claim you. And by this time tomorrow, you will most likely be dead like the others.”

A cruel smile touched his lips as he moved back in front of me. “Unless your hellfire proves useful. In which case, I might keep you alive long enough to breed you properly.”

Ashra snarled inside me. My eyes glow molten gold for a brief second, as I looked him dead in the eyes. “Careful, Your Majesty. Keep talking like that and I might decide to ride your knot just so I can burn your d**k off from the inside before you cum.”