Marked by the Lycan King

40

Stephanie, the tough, battle-hardened woman, cracked her knuckles together with a deliberate snap, her eyes gleaming with the intent to intimidate. A spark of excitement ignited in Myra’s chest. She sprang to her feet, rolling her shoulders and warming her dormant muscles. This was the thrill she had been craving.

Stephanie lunged first, moving with surprising speed. Myra dodged the initial strike and swept her opponent’s legs out from under her, forcing Stephanie down onto one knee. Before she could recover, Myra spun and aimed a sharp kick at her face. In a blur of motion, Stephanie caught the flying leg, twisted hard, and hurled Myra across the training room. The impact rattled her bones as she skidded across the floor.

The other women jeered and laughed mockingly, their voices echoing off the walls. Myra wiped the corner of her mouth, tasting blood on her lip. Instead of anger, a fierce grin spread across her face. She charged again, slamming a powerful fist into Stephanie’s stomach. The blow lifted the larger woman off her feet and drove her backward into the wall with a heavy thud.

Myra followed up with another punch, but Stephanie was ready. She caught the fist mid-air, twisted Myra’s arm behind her back, and locked her into a brutal submission hold. Pain exploded through Myra’s shoulder as Stephanie chuckled darkly.

“My lady,” she taunted, “you can’t beat me.”

Myra’s face twisted in agony, yet a wild glint of excitement still burned in her eyes. With a sharp, deliberate motion, she dislocated her own shoulder to slip free from the hold. Before Stephanie could react, Myra wrapped her powerful legs around her opponent’s neck in a vice-like triangle choke and slammed her to the mat with raw force.

Breathing hard, Myra stood tall. She calmly popped her dislocated shoulder back into place with a sickening click, then let out a soft, breathless laugh.

“Is that all you’ve got?” she called out, scanning the room with a defiant smirk. “Come on! Who’s next? Bring it on!”

The challenge hung in the air, but no one stepped forward. The warriors watched her in stunned silence.

Then Riley descended from the observation platform, clapping slowly. One by one, the others joined in. The rhythmic applause grew louder, filled with newfound respect. Stephanie, still on the floor, pushed herself up with a grin and extended her hand.

“Welcome to the female army, my lady,” she said, gripping Myra’s hand firmly. “Pleasure making your acquaintance. I’m Stephanie.”

Myra blinked, surprised. She hadn’t expected such a formidable, well-built warrior to carry such a feminine name. Riley shrugged beside them.

“That was some move you pulled,” she said, impressed. “Didn’t see that coming. Alright, girls, we’re heading to the bar to celebrate our newest recruit. Who’s in for a drink?”

A thunderous cheer erupted from the room as the warriors raised their fists in excitement. Myra felt a faint but genuine smile tug at her lips. For the first time in a long while, a warm sense of belonging began to bloom in her chest.

After a grueling final round of training, the group made their way to the city’s rowdy downtown bar. The place pulsed with neon lights, electric blues, hot pinks, and vivid greens, casting colorful glows across sweating bodies packed tightly on the dance floor. Music thumped through the speakers, a heavy bass line vibrating in their chests. Patrons in skimpy outfits and glittering makeup moved suggestively against one another, laughing and shouting over the noise.

The female warriors stood out like wolves among sheep. Dressed in their camouflage pants and fitted tank tops, their powerful physiques and commanding auras created an invisible barrier. No one dared approach their corner of the bar.

Myra sipped on her glass of chilled juice, eyes wide like a fascinated child seeing the world for the first time. The chaotic energy, the flashing lights, the unrestrained revelry, it was all so new to her.

Stephanie slid onto the stool beside her, raising an eyebrow. “Come on, my lady. Why are you drinking only juice? The whole point of coming to a bar is to get properly wasted.”

Myra chuckled, swirling the ice in her glass. “I don’t drink, thanks”

Riley leaned over the bar, ordering another round of shots for the group.

Stephanie suddenly snatched the glass of juice from Myra’s hand and replaced it with a shot of tequila. The sharp, pungent smell hit Myra instantly.

“I—I can’t,” Myra refused, pulling her hand back. She had never touched alcohol before, but she had seen Lyka stumble home drunk countless times, vomiting, retching, and miserable the next day. The memory alone made her stomach twist with aversion.

“Stephanie, please don’t do this to me,” she begged, her voice soft but desperate.

The warrior crossed her arms, smirking. “We came here to celebrate you, my lady. We’re drinking on your behalf. Where’s your sincerity? You’re not giving the girls any face if you sit here sipping juice like a child.”

The rest of the squad nodded in agreement, their eyes sparkling with mischief and encouragement. Myra glanced down at the small glass in her hand, the clear liquid gleaming under the neon lights. She took a deep, steadying breath, then tipped it back in one gulp.

Fire exploded down her throat. The tequila burned like liquid flames, making her eyes water and her chest tighten. She coughed hard, but the crowd cheered wildly, clapping and whistling.

“Okay, line them up!” Riley ordered the bartender with a grin.

Before Myra could protest, a neat row of shots appeared on the counter, tequila, whiskey, and colorful cocktails she didn’t even recognize. Riley pointed at each one with a wicked smile. “You have to finish all of them.”

Myra’s face fell. She couldn’t refuse now, it would be too rude, and they had already paid for everything. Wasting their money felt wrong. Her expression turned into that of a scolded puppy, wide-eyed and helpless. The sight was so amusing that Riley chuckled and pushed two glasses closer.

“Drink up, my lady. Don’t worry, we’ll get you home safely.” Taking another deep breath, Myra began. The girls cheered her on with every shot, patting her back and shouting encouragement. A few minutes later, the world started tilting. Her limbs felt heavy and warm, her thoughts fuzzy.

“My lady? Myra?” Riley called, gently shaking her shoulder. But Myra’s body remained limp, slumped against the bar. Her alcohol tolerance was shockingly low.

Riley sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “Girls, looks like I’ll have to call it a night. Our star recruit has officially bailed on us. I’ll drop her off at the villa.”

Some of the women mumbled weak acknowledgments, already feeling the effects of their own drinks. Riley helped Myra to her feet, half-carrying the taller woman out of the noisy bar and into the cool night air.

The villa lay shrouded in darkness, only a few lanterns flickering near the entrance. Inside the grand sitting room, Matteo sat motionless in the center of the space, an oppressive aura radiating from him that made the servants and guards instinctively keep their distance. He glanced at the clock on the wall once more. It was six minutes past 10.

He had granted her significant freedom, enough that she now dared to stay out this late. Dante had informed him about her joining the female army’s training, but that was no excuse for this, training doesn't take this long.

The doorbell finally rang. Butler William hurried to open it, relief evident on his face.

“My lady, you’re finally back—”

Riley stood in the doorway, supporting a very drunk Myra. She gave the butler a sheepish nod.

Mattheo rose slowly from his seat. Riley’s playful expression faltered the moment she met his cold, piercing gaze. A dark line of displeasure etched across his face as he took in Myra’s flushed cheeks and limp form.

“Your Majesty… good evening,” Riley said quickly, shrinking slightly. “She, uh… had a bit too much fun celebrating. I’ll just… hand her over.”

Without waiting for a reply, she carefully transferred Myra into Matteo’s arms. The king accepted her effortlessly, one arm supporting her back and the other beneath her knees.

“I’ll take my leave now!” Riley added hastily, already backing toward the door. She practically fled the villa.

Matteo said nothing as Riley disappeared into the night. Myra stirred in his arms, the movement and the familiar scent of him pulling her from her drunken haze. Her eyelids fluttered open. Even through the fog of alcohol, she recognized the strikingly handsome face above her.

“It’s… so hot,” she mumbled, tugging weakly at the collar of her tank top. Her voice was slurred, her cheeks burning crimson. She shifted restlessly against his chest, seeking coolness.