Lycan Kings Dormant Sovereign

Chapter 5: A Sovereign’s Grip

Jianna

I walked into the total silence of the woods.

It wasn’t a slow, peaceful quiet, but that sudden, suffocating stillness that hits right before a storm. The wind died in the pines, the insects went dead mute, and the birds scattered into the grey sky without making a sound.

I didn’t hear a single twig snap or boots on the damp needle floor. But my nose picked up the shift in the air a second before my brain could process it.

The lingering tang of Kael’s cardamom and sage was completely wiped out, swallowed by a faint, heavy wave of dark velvet and woodsmoke. It rolled over the rocky ridge like fog, making my throat tighten.

My blood spiked cool, sharp, and lethal.

I didn’t turn around right away. Standing at the edge of the forest line overlooking the distant pack grounds, I let my hand drop to the leather grip of my left dagger, my small fingers wrapping around the bone handle beneath my leather wrist wraps. Slowly and deliberately, I let my packed duffel slide off my shoulder, adjusting my oversized black jacket before the bag dropped to the damp dirt.

“You’re tracking me,” I said, keeping my voice flat, calm, and completely unbothered.

“Hardly tracking,” a deep voice rumbled from the shadow of the thick pine canopy behind me. “You leave a loud trail for someone trying to disappear.”

I spun on my heel, drawing both daggers in one smooth motion. The steel cut through the dim quiet, catching the fading afternoon light.

The large man stepping out from between the towering trees stopped me in my tracks.

He was breathtakingly lethal, built like an ancient warlord with deep bronze skin which was adorned with faint, gold runes that shimmered against his muscle. A thick crown of dark, long intricate locs swept past his broad shoulders, threaded with gold rings and obsidian artifacts. He wore dark forged armor layered beneath rich indigo and gold velvet robes etched in regal Kente patterns, bringing a suffocating, ancient presence to the forest floor.

His face was carved out of unforgiving angles, featuring a sharp jaw, a dark beard, and a golden crown resting high against his brow. His eyes burned a molten amber-gold, piercing through the dark with a powerful command.

King Idris.

I recognized the ruler of all instantly from the royal banners, but I didn’t care who he was. Sovereign blood or not, he was blocking my path to freedom.

“Take one step closer,” I warned, dropping low into a fighter’s stance, “and we’ll see if High Sovereign blood spills red like everyone else’s.”

Idris tracked the angle of my daggers with a slow, dark tilt of his mouth.

“Put the dagger away, little storm,” he purred, his voice rattling the loose gravel by my boots. “I didn’t hunt your scent through these woods to bleed you my queen.”

Instead of staying put, he took a deliberate, heavy step toward me, closing the distance with predatory confidence.

That was his mistake.

The moment his boot hit the dirt in my space, I lunged.

I closed the remaining gap in a heartbeat, dipping low to drive my right dagger straight for the gap beneath his collarbone while my left blade swept up to force his guard.

Idris moved way too fast for a person his size. He didn’t step back. He pivoted, his gloved hand coming down to catch my right wrist, blocking the steel an inch from his chest.

Crack. The sound echoed through the trees.

The moment his skin brushed my forearm, I felt a strange, cold sensation against my chest, like a heavy shadow pressing against a locked iron door. But like a normal wolf there was no golden explosion for me, no sudden surge of mate magic, and no crushing aura pulling me under. My wolves were asleep, silent, locked beneath the surface, leaving me with nothing but sweet dull, unreadable thrum in my veins.

Across from me, Idris gasped.

His amber-gold eyes flared violently, a massive shock wave rippled through his entire frame. His nostrils flared, greedily drinking in the sudden explosion of Jasmine and honeyed gold pouring off my skin.

He felt the bond hit him at full capacity. He stood there paralyzed for a fraction of a second, completely overwhelmed by the reality of who was standing in front of him. He knew it the moment her scent hit his nose when he arrived at the grand hall, but feeling the bond snap into place was pure ecstasy.

I didn’t waste his distraction. I ripped my right wrist back out of his grip, taking a fast step back, and drove my left boot straight toward his knee to take out his base.

Idris recovered a microsecond too late to avoid the strike, but his size swallowed the momentum. Instead of going down, he lunged forward and grabbed me by the waist, locking his broad arm around me to pin me flush against his armored chest. With a fast, fluid sweep of his free hand, he unclasped his heavy indigo velvet cloak and wrapped it tight around my shoulders, drowning me in dark velvet and wood smoke.

I wasn’t a prize to be collected by some arrogant High Sovereign bastard. "You are all the same, thinking you can just trap me. Let Go!" I screamed

I slammed my elbow back hard, aiming directly for his ribs. The hit landed against his armor with a heavy thud, vibrating right up my arm.

I dragged my left hand up, clawing frantically at his leather collar to tear his grip loose. “Let me go!”

Idris didn’t take the hit standing still. He clamped his massive gloved hand over both of my wrists, pinning them flat against his chest, and wrapped his arm around my waist like an iron vise. He smothered my leverage, trapping me chest-to-chest so tightly I couldn’t get a clean angle for another strike.

“Save your strength, my little storm,” he purred against my ear, his breath heavy with dark velvet.

I thrashed against his chest, testing every angle, but the sheer physical wall of a Sovereign Lycan holding me at full strength was completely unyielding. Realizing I was burning to much energy I needed for later, I stopped. I went totally still, my breath coming in short, sharp hitches against his neck, my eyes locking onto his with cold angry calculation.

I forced my muscles to drop their tension, letting my hands rest dead weight against his chest.

Idris raised a dark eyebrow, a subtle smirk playing on his lips at my sudden surrender. “Good girl.”

Without another word, he scooped me up into his arms, retrieving my duffel bag in one movement, and began carrying me back down the ridge. I didn’t fight him on the walk down. I saved my breath, monitoring his stride, waiting for an opening.

That calm quickly shattered the second the trees cleared.

The forest line broke, revealing the open clearing where his royal escort waited, stationed right at the edge of the Silver Moon Packs grand hall.

My stomach dropped into a cold, violent rage. Silver Moon. The place that had degraded me, called me broken, the packs little mistake and discarded me like trash. I could still see the full hall of pack members nealing.

Just the thought of being carried back into that pack’s sight like a trophy, or even letting Kael, my father, or anyone else see me locked in this royal bastards grip, sent a wave of fire and rage straight to my brain.

My hands flew up, my fingers driving hard into the pressure points on Idris’s shoulders. I shoved off his armored chest with every ounce of leverage I had left, twisting violently in his grip.

“No, No, No.... Put me down,” I snarled, my voice dangerous and low, my eyes hard as I glared at the Silver Moon border nearing.“I am not going back to them.”