His Lycan Princess | 18+

Werewolf

The forest became a labyrinth of shadows, trees looming like silent sentinels, their branches reaching out as if to grasp at my form. My footsteps were erratic, my breathing ragged, and each time I stumbled over a hidden root or uneven ground, a small cry escaped my lips. I ran until my lungs burned, until the world around me blurred into a dizzying haze. Panic clawed at my chest, but I couldn't stop, couldn't afford to falter. The troll was behind me, a relentless predator, a natural-born killer in pursuit.

My heart raced, and with each labored breath, I pushed myself harder, forced to keep moving, my steps clumsy and unsteady. The forest seemed to stretch on endlessly, a sea of shadows and fallen leaves that swallowed me whole. And then, the ground beneath my foot gave way, and I tumbled forward, my body hitting the ground with a jarring thud.

“s**t,” I gasped. Pain radiated through me, but when I tried to push myself up, desperation fueled my every movement and I failed to stand. The troll's footsteps echoed behind me, growing louder, closer. I was too scared to even move, paralyzed by fear. I heard a low, guttural growl emanating right from behind me, and I felt a hot, rancid breath cascade over me, throwing my hair in my face. It was the breath of the beast, his fetid odor making my stomach turn, sending shivers down my spine. In that dire moment, a question echoed through my mind like a desperate plea: What could I do?

What could I do?

What could I do?

What should I do?

The silver dagger, hidden beneath the folds of my cloak, pressed into my side like a silent promise. The timing was perfect, like a sign of fate and I knew it was my salvation, my only glimmer of hope. I imagined the glint of the blade, a shard of light in a shadowed abyss, a symbol of my defiance.

After all, I was a huntress.

I had to act fast, but the slightest shift could give me away. Just when I contemplated my next move and worked up the nerve to do it, a powerful grip closed around my shoulder, and I was swiftly turned to face the menacing creature. The troll pinned me to the forest floor with a strength that defied nature. The silver dagger was now beyond my grasp, as he held my hands together over my head and half buried my face in leaves, twigs and moss. His massive frame towered over me, his pitch-black, depthless eyes bore into mine with unholy hunger. His lips curled back to reveal sharp, gleaming fangs. “And where do you think you’re going, huh, sweetheart?” I could feel his hot breath against my cheek, a visceral reminder of my impending doom.

Adrenaline surged through my veins, an electrifying surge of determination and fear. I wasn’t going to go down that easy. With every ounce of my strength, I fought back, clawing and striking, desperate to break free from the clutches of the colossal beast. But he was relentless, a living embodiment of primal power. I was but a fragile ember, dimming in the face of a raging inferno.

“Please,” I let out a small, ragged breath and I flinched. “Let me go.”

“I don’t think so. You interrupted what I had going on, see,” he grumbled. There was a casual cruelty in the amused tone of his voice. “And I still need someplace to shove this.” His legs forced my thighs apart, and he pressed the hard length of his erection against my p***y. I responded with a shriek of surprise. This thing was huge! Monstrous. There was no way it would fit inside me. It would rip me apart!

“No,” I cried. ”No, no, no! Don’t, don’t do it!”

The world became a chaotic blur of terror and violence. My white undergown and cloak, symbols of innocence and tradition, were ripped away with a brutal swiftness. I lay exposed in the moonlit darkness, my skin prickling with goosebumps, my naked breasts getting sensitive, my n*****s hard. And that heart pounding inside my chest went erratic, the beat crescending like a war drum.

Oh, God.

I was going to die.

I was going to die.

I was surely, undeniably, beyond any doubt going to–

A flicker of movement caught my attention. I followed it with my gaze and saw another figure emerge from the shadows—a bigger, more imposing figure, as large as a horse. He stood on two legs, but he could never pass for a human. He was half man, half unknown. His body was one hard line, all massive muscles and strength; and while his frame felt somehow feline, his head was distinctly wolfish. His black fur, the color of the midnight sky, seemed to glow dappled with moonlight and shadows. Feral rage still smoldered in his gaze, his eyes burned like twin orbs of fire, fierce and untamed.

This creature was larger than life itself. A hulking beast of legends.

“Uh-oh,” scoffed the troll.

“A werewolf,” I gasped, stunned.