Unwanted Mate Of The Lycan Kings (by jessica hall)

Lycan Queen's Prey Chapter 42

~Regan~

The fury that consumes me is a storm unleashed within the confined space of my once meticulously

maintained bedroom. My hands become vessels of rage, hurling an ornate crystal decanter against the

wall, the sound of shattering glass is as clashing as my emotions.

Zirah is gone.

She left me, and went with my brother Zeke, no less. It's an unfathomable amount of emotion; she left

with the one that hurt her most, knowing this gnaws at my heart like a ravenous beast. She’d rather be

with a man who tortured her than be with one that would kill for her.

Caught up in the whirlwind of my anger, I don't notice the door opening. Glancing up, it's my uncle.

James appears like a ghost in the midst of my torment, as he usually does, but we've never really got

along. He is harmless, just likes to add his two cents worth, and is over-opinionated when it comes to

my affairs.

As he surveys the destruction. His face is blank, and emotionless, his eyes are dull, his brow heavy,

and his jaw clenched. He steps into the room, turning toward my direction when he doesn't find me, his

lips part, slighting this side of the room is even destroyed worse than that of the rest of the room. His

gaze scans the wreckage of my room, before they land on me, slumped on the floor, a half-empty bottle

of aged whiskey clenched in my shaking hand. His voice is a calm contrast to the turmoil raging within

me.

He watches me, a look of reproach on his face, I should be ashamed of myself, yet I'm not. I'm too hurt,

too angry to care. He stops in front of me, his feet crunching in the shattered glass. He sits on the edge

of my bed, clad in a simple white shirt, a faded brown cardigan, and a pair of black trousers. Dark

brown hair graying at the temples, under his eyes are lines, the exhaustion of a life lived, and the stress NôvelDrama.Org: owner of this content.

of the recent events shows on his face.

My Uncle utters a deep sigh, before his brows furrow, and he takes in my appearance. "Are you over

your tantrum?" He asks, his words dangling in the room like bait, my eyes lift, and I glare up at him. I

respond the only way I know how right now, the guttural growl rumbling from deep within my chest as I

fight to stay in this form. My fingers grip the glass tightly as I take another swig.

"She hates me?" My words come out as a statement, not a question.

The deep pain that lies beneath it all scorches my fragile heart, like a hot iron to my chest. Yet I can

also feel it. Death. It's coming, that burning sensation, the only thing keeping me from focusing on the

decaying feeling of death that stems from her rejection.

James starts to speak, but my anger rears its ugly head again. "Don't! This is your fault," I accuse, my

words a jagged knife. "You were the one who suggested she go to each of our kingdoms. She rejected

me because of you!" The words hang heavily in the room, a tangible personification of my rage. Uncle

James says nothing, but he didn't have to. I could see the guilt in his eyes.

The tense atmosphere in the room shifts, an unsettling quietness settling between us. He slowly rises

from my bed, his gaze locked on mine as he steps closer towards me. "You are angry," he begins

softly, despite the soft tone of his voice it does nothing to soothe the rage inside me. "You must

remember you are not the only one cursed, so is she.” His hand lightly rests upon my shoulder, a

gesture of comfort combined with understanding. "She has to choose not who she loves, but who can

be redeemed, think about that, Regan. What would be the consequence of choosing wrong?"

I take a deep breath, leaning my head back against the wall before responding, trying to contain my

anger as best as possible while still voicing my anger at him. "I know," I mutter quietly, releasing a

heavy sigh afterward as I tip the bottle to my lips again.

"Do you, though?" He asks quietly, and I growl. "Well, I am assuming if we die for our sins, she dies for

her choices too," I snarl angrily. "But it still hurts," I whisper, almost heavy-hearted. Tears brim in my

eyes, I haven't cried this much since watching my mother die, yet here they are once again threatening

to spill over if I allow them too.

James nods knowingly before withdrawing his hand from my shoulder and stepping away from me. We

both sit in silence for what feels like hours before he finally speaks again, this time his words are

coated in understanding even though they might have seemed harsh on the surface.

"What's done is done, no point dwelling on it, you have only a couple of days to redeem yourself, so

there is no point moping about it," he tells me.

His words bring a flood of emotions—anger, hurt, betrayal and loneliness—all washing over me like an

intense wave of sadness that threatens to consume me whole.

I want to yell out my frustrations at him, but I know it wouldn't matter; it wouldn't change how she feels

about me. It would only make things worse and drive an even bigger wedge between us, she needs to

come to terms herself with the things I've done. Zeke may have saved them, or at least I hope he did.

But it doesn't change the fact I've tormented my own people for over a decade, made them fear their

own shadows. It doesn't matter if I would never harm them, sometimes living with the fear of what can

happen and the repercussions are worse than enduring it. To live in fear is to not live, to not see past

your own shadow as you look over your shoulder.

"So, what are we doing? Making a declaration of love, fighting to the death, or having a pity party?" he

asks, and I glare at him. I have no idea what to do; pray that Zeke was saving them all these years. I

wonder if I should go check the mine, and make sure nothing is down there. The driver always

complained of the stench, but I know Zeke. He'd make it believable. He may be the worst of us, but in

some ways, he's also the best of us.

I glance at my phone, about to ring him to ensure they got back to his kingdom. My hands tighten

around the phone when it buzzes. An incoming call from my father. His voice is strained, worried, and

pained. "The vampire king came to the castle looking for you all. He took Malachi." he breathes out in a

rush. The urgency in his voice spikes my already chaotic emotions.

"What?" I ask, sitting up straighter.

"Crap, I am on my way," I promise, my tone tight with determination. But then there's a gasp, a gurgling

sound, and my father's voice falters. "No, get Malachi; I'll be fine," he groans. "What is it, Dad?" My

voice is urgent, but the silence from the other end is deafening. "Are you sure?" I press on, but there is

still no response. "Dad?"

The name echoes in the hollow silence. Panic surges through me, a wave of icy terror, when I hear his

breath leave him before a thud. "Dad?" He doesn't answer, and I look at James, who stares at me with

worry.

He snatches the phone from my hand. "Theron, you wrinkly old bastard, answer before you give us a

heart attack," Still silence, and I see him press his ear harder to the phone. His hearing is a little better

than that of a Lycan.

"Think he's passed out, his heart is beating," he states. I snatch the phone from him and stand. "We're

on our way," I tell him, hoping he can hear me.

I end the call, my mind racing. Decision made, no wallowing now. I leave the ruin of my room behind,

heading back to my father's kingdom. I dial Lyon as I start the car, the long drive stretching out before

me as James climbs into the passenger seat. Lyon answers on the second ring.

"Where are you?" I demand, my voice hoarse with worry.

"Heading to Zeke and Zirah, why?" Lyon responds, his confusion palpable even through the phone.

"Good, stay there and don't leave her side," I order, gripping the steering wheel tighter. "Well, I wasn't

planning to, what's wrong?"

"Something's going on, and I'm heading back. I need to check on Dad before I see the vampire king.

He took Malachi." The name feels like a weight on my tongue.

Lyon offers to turn around and meet me, but I decline. "No, get to Zirah and Zeke. Let Zeke know

what's going on. I'll keep you all informed." The conversation ends, but the silence isn't comforting.

The road stretches ahead, seeming to have no end. James tries to reach anyone at the castle, dialing

all numbers he has, but when they are met with no answer, worry really sets in.