Chapter Three — The Lycan’s Choice
1067 Words
The elder said by the will of the Moon Goddess, the Lycan King has a destined mate, who is in Crescent Ridge Pack.
There was a wave of whispers running through the hall. The pain of her heart beating in her chest made Lyra feel it. She shouldn’t have been here. She was not supposed to be selected. She was not a complete wolf any longer, half of her was disintegrated.
The Lycan King made no remark when he looked at the maidens. His cold silver eyes, sharp as blades, looked with calculated precision at each one of them.
The elder continued. “We begin the mate-sign ritual.”
The gaze of the Lycan King shot across the room again and his eyes fell upon Lyra.
Her stomach dropped.
A wave-like flash of light shot back out into her. Gasps erupted.
“It can’t be—”
“She’s the broken one—”
“A wolfless girl?”
Lyra fell back with a weak shake of her head. “N-No… it’s wrong. It has to be wrong.”
But the elder dropped his rod with a sharp bang.
The mate sign has shown himself, he said loudly. Lyra Hale is the prophesied Queen of King Kael Ravaryn.
The hall erupted.
Others of the maidens screamed in disbelief. Others stared in shock. Isaac sprang to his feet, and the anger distorted all his features.
What a fool is this? he said. “She’s wolfless! She’s—”
The Lycan King turned his head and stared him with one glance as he cut off his words.
There was a dreadful silence, threatening.
Then the king made first speech.
Approach me, he said, and his voice was deep and commanding.
Lyra made herself come nearer. Her legs were weak, her breathing shallow but she obeyed. As she at last rose before him, he touched her, and his two fingers were under her chin, up-lifting her eyes to his.
I am Kael Ravaryn, Lycan King of Dravaria, said Lyra Hale. And you… are my mate.”
She stood dazed and looked at him. Her heart sank--not in fear, but in something like hope, with which it was too much like danger.
At her back Isaac was banging his fist on the armrest of the throne. “This is impossible!”
Kael did not even turn to him. Rather he lowered his head a little in the direction of Lyra,--a movement which was inexplicably mild in a man of his dimensions.
“You will come with me,” he said. “Tonight.”
Lyra swallowed hard. She nodded once.
Get her ready, one of the guards was told. “We leave immediately.”
Lyra was ushered out, and a smooth black coach was waiting. Kael sat down opposite her, without speaking, but overwhelming. She was unable to look away at him.
There was confusion in her mind. Fear. Curiosity. Relief.
She didn’t know what to feel.
They reached the kingdom of Dravaria, hours later a huge fortress with high walls and gleaming wards.
The palace doors burst open as Lyra got out of the carriage.
A lovely-looking woman, with long dark curls, and with flashing emerald eyes came running towards them.
“Kael!” she exclaimed.
The woman flung herself into the arms of the king before Lyra could even assimilate it, and kissed him--deeply, passionately, as she had a right to do in every way.
Lyra froze.
Kael did not drive her away at once. His jaw set and then he so tenderly pried her off him.
“Selene,” he said sharply. “Not now.”
Selene swiveled around, and at last saw Lyra. Her eyes narrowed. “Who is she? A new maid?”
“No,” Kael said, his voice flat. “She is my mate.”
Selene’s expression cracked. Her face flushed with anger and she ran out of the corridor.
Lyra stared at Kael in disillusionment. “Your… mate?” she echoed softly. She did not know what he meant by his voice, cold, detached, almost irritated.
However, before she could say a word, a maid came up and bowed.
“My lady, please follow me.”
Lyra was conducted into a big, fine room. It was much bigger than she had ever entered, yet she was little in it.
Maidens crowded in the room and bowed down as she entered.
“We will prepare you,” one said. “A bath, fresh clothes, food. The king needs you later on. We need to make sure you are very neat and presentable, lady lyra.”
Lyra didn’t say much. She was too overwhelmed.
They sponged her, and washed the dirt and dried blood of the journey out of her. She had been soothed by warm water on her sore muscles. A loose robe was drawn over her wet body. Her hair was parted in front and hung down her back.
She ate without talking, fruit, a hot broth, a piece of bread which she scarcely tasted.
The kiss kept going round her head. To Selene. To the weird confusion of intimacy and remoteness in the eyes of Kael.
Lyra stood waveringly when a guard finally arrived.
“The king summons you,” he said.
Her heart beat increased as she trailed him along the dark corridor to the room of Kael.
The doors swung open and Kael was there standing by the fireplace, his shirt thrown aside, his muscles straining under the warm light of the fire.
He made no turn as she came in.
“Close the door.”
She did.
His tone was low, nearly monotonous in his next word.
“Strip.”
Lyra hesitated a moment--shocked, puzzled--but there was nothing in his voice to dispute.
She was shaking her hands when she unbuttoned the robe. It slipped off her shoulders and collected at her feet. The cold air was chilled against her skin.
Kael finally turned.
His gaze crossed over her, deepening with hunger that made her stomach ache. He came up to her, one foot at a time.
He didn’t ask permission.
He didn’t speak.
He simply claimed her.
The night had been a jumble of hotness, breathlessness and his body pressing over hers. His hands, massive and possessive. his deep and hoarse voice in her ear.
And as he drew his teeth in again into her neck.
She was marked!
- Writer
