Unwanted Mate Of The Lycan Kings (by jessica hall)

~Zirah~

The van's tires screeched as it came to a sudden halt. My heart stopped, then began beating wildly, each thundering beat drawing me further and further away from reality. Every single fiber in my body protested as I hunched on the unforgiving, cold metal floor of the van, hands bound in front of me. I fought to break free from the binds, desperately hoping to escape my fate.

But no matter how much I struggled, I could not free myself from the inescapable situation. My heart thundered against the cage of my ribs, threatening to shatter the fragile silence enveloping us. I mustered a glance at my mates, sprawled in a disturbing parody of sleep. Their peaceful faces were a harsh contradiction to the dire reality we were entangled in, and each of them stirred a whirlwind of despair and rage within me.

King Slavic’s cruel taunts reverberate in my skull, a maddening echo that amplifies the dread knotting my stomach. His icy eyes, brimming with malicious pleasure, still haunt me. He's the embodiment of my darkest nightmares, a relentless shadow tainting my existence. “This will keep you docile,” he sneered, brandishing the syringe that held our captivity within its clear contents.

In a torturous loop, I have watched the King's minions as they administer the damning drug, their faces cold and detached. The sickening sight of the needle sliding under their skin, the agonizingly slow push of the plunger, releasing its payload into their veins, churns my insides. Each time, I grind my teeth against the searing anger, balling my fists until my nails dig into my palms, struggling against the instinctive need to retaliate.

anger, stoking the flames of my metabolism, purging the drug from my system? An unexpected wave of adrenaline ripples through me, sweeping away the fog clouding my mind, and honing my senses. My heart hammers against my ribs, an erratic drum echoing through the hollow silence of the van.

the motion making me feel queasy. I have no idea what is going on, but we left Regan's Kingdom in a hurry when they finally realized I spoke the truth, and Regan indeed is not tied to me. Slavic then ordered his men back to his Kingdom, where I watched them continuously drug my mates, and load the van full of supplies. He's running, that much I am sure of, something has him spooked and there is no doubt in my mind that what has scared him into

halt of the van yanks me from my thoughts. I brace against the abrupt stop, straining to decipher the murmur of hushed voices and the shuffle of restless feet. The harsh, blinding light sears through my eyelids from the sudden wrenching of the van doors, followed by the invasion of a biting

now. The rough yank of my arm drags me closer to the doors when the other van door groans open, unveiling a desolate landscape that stretches into oblivion. Mountains stand tall against the morning sky, their peaks shrouded by a veil

me out of the van. I stumble over the uneven terrain, the biting wind slicing through

the unforgiving rocky ground, I taste the tang of blood in my mouth as my

to the gnawing fear that anchors itself

smeared with dirt and blood. His body, usually a tower of strength, is reduced to a lifeless burden between the henchmen who carelessly drag him. The agony etched on his face, the brutal wounds and bruises marring

the crushing emptiness around me. The roller door groans open, consuming Malachi into its monstrous abyss. The image of him disappearing into the dark void within the mountain is the last I witness before the door grinds shut, leaving me stranded amidst this desolate wasteland. When I am shoved