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Heart Of A Lycan Prince

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Blurb

It was suppose to be a one night stand. Just a quick fix of her s****l urges. Just a taste. But it turned out to be something much more.

After two years of an almost non-existent contact, Mazari Sherneil vowed to let go of the supposed mate; one who doesn't want her. With the daily struggles to fit into the norm of the society, she figured she was better off alone, than waiting on a man who clearly doesn't want her.

They call him 'Bastard'. 'The Unwanted Prince.' 'The Rogue Prince.' Yet, all he craves, all he ever wanted, was to be loved. Yet, when finally blessed with the opportunity by Nyala, Amari Maverick shoves it away, embracing the idea of being unworthy.

What happens when their paths crosses once more, their paths leading them to investigate the issue with the Lycan Kingdom and other realms alike? Will they embrace it and work together? Or will they further drift apart?

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1.
SHERNEIL. Smile. Stretch your damn lips and smile. And when it doesn't work, I tell myself it is the last time I'm trying. I mean it every time. But then, every time something happens, and people smile or laugh, throwing their heads back and enjoying the thrill of what it feels like to laugh, I tell myself I can do it. I know I can do better. And then, I start practicing all over again. Smile. One word etched in my mind. One practice I struggled with every night. Stretch. Stretch. Stretch. As always, my lips won’t stretch to laugh. They never did. I counted to three, then tried again. And again. And again. Didn't work. Why was it so hard to smile or laugh? Again, a thought of giving up. That's what I tell myself anyway. Every time. But then, I recall how easy it is for others to smile, how easy the corners of their mouths tug up to laugh at things, and then I start over. I know I can do better, I tell myself that every single day. I can smile. I should smile at things people smile or laugh at. So, every night, I stand before the mirror and practice how to smile all over again. The same routine for the past few years. Yet, there seems to be no progress whatsoever. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, attempting to tug my lips upward, the exact same way I see people normally do when they smile. But nothing happened. It didn't look like I was smiling, rather, it looked like I was about to cry, my face scrunched up. This wasn't a smile. This was a grimace. Smiling seems to be a rather huge task for me. I lifted the corners of my lips up once again to try, but it yielded the same result. This has been part of my routine for almost two years now, yet, every time I tried, every time I practiced, it never worked. I don't know how to smile. 'Let's try doing this another way, Sher,' Robyn sighed. 'Just follow my lead,' she added. 'How so?' I furrowed my brows. 'Try lifting one side of your mouth first,' she began, using her front paw to describe. 'Just quirk it up a bit, like you're about to grit your teeth but in a more simpler way.' 'Like this?' I asked, attempting to quirk the right side of my mouth up. But even I knew that wasn't a smile. Nor an attempt at smiling. 'S.hit! That would scare even me off, Sher!' Robyn scoffed. 'Try loosening the grim lines on your face. That is no smile. You look like you’re chewing wasps!’ She gasped. 'Well, let's forget it and just accept the fact that I can't smile, among other things of course.' I pursed my lips, dismissing the idea of trying to smile. Robyn went quiet for a while before she popped up again. 'We can practice this daily. I think I'm on the edge because I'm a horny b.itch lately,' she groaned. 'I need to get laid, Sher.' I tucked my tongue at the corner of my mouth, ignoring her as I packed my braids into a bun. Smiling isn’t something that comes to me often. I rarely smile. Things others find funny, I don’t. And when I do smile, it’s mostly just a brush. A struggle to copy the tilt of the mouth. A struggle as I darted my eyes around people laughing, as I tried, tried real hard to understand why that particular thing that made them laugh sounded funny. Why were they able to laugh about it and I couldn't. The fact that it takes me long minutes, trying to figure it…figure out what made laughter easier makes me angry. And hence, the fuel to keep practicing daily. I sighed and began my nightly routine. At least, it is one thing I'm good at. Keeping my routine intact. Floss. Brush. Bathe. Tuck into bed. Simple. Once, I had missed the routine, and it left an itchy feeling on my body, enough to make me leave work and get back home. But that too means I've messed up another routine, and so, everything for the day got ruined. I flexed and clenched the fingers on my left hand by the thought of it. Then counted to seven. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 times. Prime number. Then again. And again. Prime numbers round and round. The thought of messing up routines makes me nervous. Flexing my left hand and counting to seven helps me calm down. Having finished with my routine, I padded back to the bedroom, glanced around the dimly lit room before I approached the bed. I pulled the quilt halfway off the bed and stroked my right hand lightly on the surface. The softness of the Egyptian cotton of my own sheets was just what I needed to feel. I always travel with my sheets regardless of how far the journey would be. The thought of sleeping on sheets that someone else has used unsettles me. The feel of any other fabric that isn't Egyptian cotton on my bed just feels wrong. I need my own sheets. I hopped onto the bed, pulled the quilt over my body, turned off the bedside lamp beside me, fluffed my pillow once more since it wasn't my bed, and pulled out my phone. I swiped through the few notes I had in there, which were all work related before I allowed myself to return to the simple text message I had received from my mate. It's been two years since I met him. Two years since he told me he doesn't want to do this. Truth be told, neither do I. So we let things be without rejecting each other, of course. Two years since we last spoke, except for the occasional messages he sends after every six months, making them four including today's. 'Trust you're good. Take care.' Same words. Same text message. Always. And I always sent back a single reply. 'Fine.' What more can I say after that? My life is nothing short of exciting, at least, that is how it appears to me. I love football, and I make sure to train every single day with the boys. While I do love my job, it has become hard to work around condescending men who never think I'm worthy of being part of them, that, and the fact that my love life is plainly...empty. No mate. No boyfriend. Nothing. Is it weird that as a 24 year old, I've had s.ex only twice? Definitely weird. And I may need to fix that soon. Not that it bothers me, but I think my lack of experience in all of that may be the reason why I don't find anything in that aspect exciting. Besides, I need that experience myself. It was only why I had agreed to take this mission and come to the human country alone. To challenge myself more and more. To break out of my shell like Ammi has been saying for years. 'Plain old boring text every time. That's no way to woo a woman. I should teach him that next time we meet,' Robyn grumbled. 'Right now, I just need to get laid.' 'He's not trying to woo us though. We both agreed we didn't want this, and if I recall clearly, you were the most eager for that.' 'Not my fault. He's too scary, and his lycan wolf is the worst. Through the aura, I could feel his resentment. I don't want a mate like that. I rather get laid when I want to and continue kicking asses in football and CIS.’ ‘A relationship with no strings. Just to satisfy the urges and we go our different ways,’ I replied. Neither Robyn nor I have any interest in relationships, or the mate bond that binds us wolves. It’s already been established that I can’t be in a relationship. Neither friendship nor romantic relationship. I just can’t keep up, and can’t understand the need for them. I love the comfort of my silence. Of being alone. I just can’t seem to understand the thrill people find in so much noise, especially the loud ones that make my head spin. Being alone is what I do best. And what I’ll maintain. ‘That. That is it, Sher. That being said, I’ll repeat myself again. I seriously need to get laid.’ 'I think your horny mind is getting to me, Robyn,' I murmured. ‘I heard humans have something called escorts where you sign up for men and they satisfy you. Want us to try?’ ‘You bet I do!’ Robyn shrieked, jumping around happily. Mustering up enough courage not to back down, I downloaded the escort app with the most reviews and signed up. Flexing my fingers again. 3 times 7 flexing. Then I scrolled through the list of names and bios visible. Some of the men had their pictures plastered, to be frank, a better part of them do. But the one that caught my attention the most was the one wearing a mask. However, he was completely bare from waist upwards, with a large colorful butterfly tattoo on his right chest. The scanty dark hair scattered on his chest made something wild snap within me. He looked so muscular, and too big. ‘He looks yummy. Definitely the perfect fit for our petite form!’ Robyn clapped her paws together. Wouldn't he crush my petite form if I chose him? I wondered quietly, reading through the simple bio he had written there. 'I get the job done in minutes. I'll have you screaming before you know it.' ‘That right there is the man for the job, Sher. I like the idea of him making us scream.’ Robyn purred. ‘He sounds...cocky. Or rude.’ I replied, albeit already agreeing with Robyn. But that only piqued my interest towards him more. And his eyes, grey green. Where have I seen this shade? But that was one other thing that sealed the idea for me. I clicked on his profile, and booked him for Friday night. That is two days away from today. Time to make something exciting out of my life. And time to make my stay here worthwhile! Sighing, I scrolled through my music list and chose a folder befitting my mood. I hit play, dropped my phone and shut my eyes, eager for Friday night. Who knows, I may finally do something exciting with my boring life.

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