Chapter 2: The Lycan King
1370 Words
The path wound up through jagged rock, torchlight flickering against the cliffs. Each step echoed sharp and lonely, the forest behind me already another world—distant, safe, compared to the shadows ahead.
Then I saw it.
The Obsidian Hold rose from the mountainside, carved from black stone glistening like glass under the moon. Spires pierced the clouds; walls bore scars of battle; gates looked strong enough to crush anyone who tested them. It was less a castle than a warning—the heart of the Lycan King’s rule.
A growl cut through the night.
Three guards emerged, their eyes yellow, wolves close to the surface. The scarred leader stepped forward.
“You’re trespassing.”
I lifted my chin. “I crossed the border on purpose.”
He sneered, circling me like prey. “Looking to die young?”
Claws half-shifted as he raised his hand, but another voice rang out.
“That’s enough.”
A man stepped from the shadows, tall and lean, dark curls catching firelight. His brown eyes were steady, his presence controlled—yet the guards backed off at once.
“Damon,” the scarred one muttered.
Damon Nicholson. The Lycan King’s Beta. His gaze swept over me, not unkind, not warm—assessing.
“She’s under my watch now.”
The guards melted into the dark. Damon turned to me.
“You’ve got nerve, walking straight into this place.”
“I didn’t come this far to be turned away.”
He shook his head faintly. “Reckless. Come on. If you really want to see him, you’ll need more than stubbornness.”
The gates groaned open. Inside, shadows deepened; black walls swallowed the torchlight. Wolves patrolled the corridors, their stares heavy with suspicion. Every look said I didn’t belong, but still I walked on—toward the man who would change everything.
The throne room was colder than the night outside. Black stone stretched high, torches flickering weakly. At the far end, on a throne of iron and stone, sat the Lycan King.
Xander Blackthorn.
Broad-shouldered, dark-haired, storm-gray eyes—he pinned me in place the moment I entered. Something inside me jolted; the air thickened with a pull I couldn’t explain.
Damon spoke. “She crossed the border herself, Your Majesty. Says she came seeking you.”
Xander didn’t look at him. His gaze stayed on me.
“Why?” His voice was low, flat, a command.
I swallowed hard. “Because I couldn’t stay where I was.”
“That isn’t an answer.” His tone cut like a blade. “Wolves don’t wander into my territory because they’re restless. Try again.”
Heat rose to my cheeks. Everything in me screamed to lower my gaze, but something reckless held me steady.
“I came because I don’t belong there,” I said, firmer now. “And I won’t go back.”
A flicker passed over his face—gone before I could read it.
“You expect me to welcome you? Offer shelter to strays?”
“I’m not a stray.” The words slipped out. “I’m Isla Montgomery, daughter of the Blood Moon Alphas. And I’m not afraid of you.”
The hall went still. Even Damon shifted.
Xander rose, unhurried but heavy as a storm. He descended the steps, boots echoing. When he stopped in front of me, I had to tilt my head back to meet his gaze.
“You should be,” he said softly.
The air thrummed, my pulse racing. For a heartbeat the world narrowed to his eyes. Then he turned away, snapping the strange pull like a thread.
“Take her out,” he told Damon. “She doesn’t belong here.”
Fury tangled with the ache in my chest. Before Damon moved me, I blurted, “You don’t even know me.”
Xander paused but didn’t turn. “Exactly,” he said, and walked away.
The doors slammed shut behind me. Damon led the way down iron-scented halls lined with warriors in dark leathers. Their stares cut like nettles.
“Who is she?”
“Blood Moon daughter, isn’t she?”
“Fragile. Won’t last a week.”
I clenched my fists, keeping my face calm. I’d grown up on whispers, but these cut deeper.
In the warrior’s hall, laughter and sharp glances thickened the air. My arrival froze the room.
“She was with him,” someone muttered.
“The King hasn’t spared a woman more than a night in years. What makes her different?”
“Maybe she’s the one. His mate.”
The word slammed into me. Mate.
Heat climbed my neck. My not-quite-wolf stirred, restless. Damon noticed.
“Don’t listen to them,” he said quietly.
“Easy for you to say.”
“Rumors spread fast here—dangerous ones. You don’t want to be the subject.”
I stopped, meeting his eyes. “Is it true?”
His expression flickered. “Doesn’t matter what’s true. What matters is what the King believes. And he doesn’t believe in mates.”
I remembered my father’s scorn. The warriors at the river. Now this—maybe bound to the man everyone feared, a bond he clearly didn’t want. Curse or chance?
The whispers rose louder.
“She felt it.”
“Did you see the way he looked at her?”
“She won’t survive if he rejects her.”
My throat tightened. I walked faster, Damon at my side, silent now. The ache in my chest grew, that same pull from the border coiling tighter with every step inside this fortress. Freedom or trap—I couldn’t tell.
We stopped before a heavy iron door. Damon’s hand rested briefly on the latch. “He asked for you.”
My stomach dipped. “After making it clear he wanted me gone?”
“The King changes his mind when it suits him. Best not to question it.”
He pushed the door open.
Inside: stone walls, a long table strewn with maps, weapons mounted in neat rows. No warmth, no comfort. Xander stood near the table, one hand braced on the wood, his gray eyes fixed on me.
“Leave us,” he said to Damon without turning.
The door shut, heavy and final. My heart pounded as Xander crossed the room, movements deliberate. When he stopped a pace away, the space buzzed, alive with that strange current.
“You should have gone back the moment you were dismissed,” he said evenly. “Instead, you linger. Why?”
I lifted my chin though my insides trembled. “Because I don’t take orders from a man who won’t even look me in the eye when he rejects me.”
For a second his mouth curved—something sharp, not quite a smile. “Bold,” he murmured. “But boldness isn’t strength. You mistake one for the other.”
“Maybe,” I said. “Or maybe you mistake control for power.”
His eyes narrowed. I thought he might strike or laugh. Instead he stepped closer, so close the air thickened. His hand brushed mine as he moved past, a fleeting contact that sent a spark racing up my arm.
I gasped, jerking back, but he didn’t react.
“You are not wanted here,” he said, back still to me. “And whatever bond you think you feel—ignore it. Mates are a weakness I cannot afford.”
Finality crushed the air from my chest. My throat ached, but I refused to break.
“If I’m such a weakness,” I said softly, “why haven’t you ordered me killed?”
Silence. His shoulders tensed, then eased. He didn’t answer. That silence was all the proof I needed. He felt it too.
I turned, hand on the door, when his voice came again, cold.
“Stay if you wish. But know this, Isla Montgomery—this place will devour you. And I will not save you.”
I pushed the door open, pulse racing, skin still burning from his touch.
Maybe he was right. Maybe this place would destroy me.
But as I stepped back into the corridor, one truth anchored deep inside:
I wasn’t leaving.
- Writer
