Lycan King (Lycan Legend Book 2)

The royal guard’s face darkened with annoyance. ‘Wait here,’ he said and pushed the massive door in her face.

Eve released an impatient breath and stared at the ornate knocker. It was made entirely of gold and fashioned into the shape of a wolf baring its jaws. She grimaced beneath her covering.

The sun was strong and she kept her face down, lifting her gloved hands to secure the hood around her head. She prayed she didn’t have to wait long. Her stomach clenched with hunger at the sweet, intoxicating scent of blood around her.

Focus, she told herself. Don’t do anything stupid. She gritted her teeth and tried to block the scents around her, but it was so hard. After four hundred years, it wasn’t any easier fighting the urge to feed off innocent humans, but she would rather die than give in to her vile thirst.

‘Momma, why is that woman dressed like that? Isn’t she hot?’ a child a few paces behind her asked.

Eve knew she stood out like a sore thumb wearing her black cloak, covering her from head to toe, but it was either that, or burn to a crisp, another hellish side effect to immortality.

‘Hush. Stop staring at her,’ a woman said.

She pursed her lips. If the King didn’t come soon, she was going to knock down the massive, brass door and find him herself. For a split second, she was tempted to do just that, but common sense prevailed. She didn’t want to start a war.

Grimacing, she tried blocking the scents pummelling her senses.

After she accomplished what she came for, she would feed.

* * * *

King Drago narrowed his gaze on his two royal guards, Nolan and Falk, entering the Great Hall. ‘Well, what do you have to report?’ he asked Falk, not bothering to hide his impatience. ‘Does she remember?’

‘Nay, Your Highness, she does not.’

He swore roughly under his breath. ‘We need to know where Balkathan is hiding his pack. Tell Hesta I need results–now!’ he growled.

‘The healer said she is doing everything she can,’ Falk said.

‘Tell her she’s not doing enough! Go! And don’t return unless you have good news.’

Drago stared at his guard’s retreating and clenched his jaw. For three weeks they couldn’t get anything out of Katya. Three weeks! She was the only person who knew where Balkathan’s lair was hidden and he feared her madness that was causing her memory loss was incurable.

He growled at his remaining guard, Nolan. ‘What is it? And it better not be bad news.’

‘There is a visitor at the front gate. She says it’s imperative she speaks with you, Your Highness.’

‘Tell her to go away,’ he commanded.

‘I told her you were busy, but she refuses to leave.’

‘Who is she?’

Nolan frowned. ‘She wouldn’t give me her name and I couldn’t see her face. She is covered from head to toe in a black garment.’

‘Is she as mad as our guest? The sun is strong today.’ Drago released an exasperated breath. ‘Damnation! Has all my staff lost their competencies? First Hesta and now you?’

‘Forgive me, Your Highness, but she is very persistent. She said she would camp at the door and would not leave until she saw you.’

Drago frowned irritably, his ire now directed at the faceless woman. ‘Does she want coin? Give it to her! I have no time for this.’

‘Nay, Your Highness, she said it is not charity she seeks.’

‘Damn her.’ He’d better see her and be done with her. He rose abruptly from his throne and glowered at his guard. ‘I’ll give the wench one minute and then you can escort her off the castle grounds by force if necessary.’

‘Aye, Your Highness.’

With Nolan following him brusquely at his side, Drago strode from the Great Hall down a corridor to the main entrance. He nodded at his two guards flanking the doors. Nolan opened one of the massive doors and Drago stared at the woman facing him. He frowned, trying to see her face. Nolan was right. She was completely covered. He furrowed his brow, wondering what kind of person cloaked herself under this blistering sun.

‘Your Highness,’ she greeted. ‘Thank you for seeing me.’

Even though her voice was calm, he detected a thread of annoyance beneath it. He deepened his frown. ‘What is your name?’

‘Eve.’

‘And what is so important you wanted to see me about, Eve?’

‘May I come inside?’ She paused. ‘I don’t like the sun.’

That was evident, he thought, trying to see past the dark hood covering her face. He stepped aside and she entered his main hall. Her scent drifted around him and he stiffened violently, clenching his jaw. His animal’s response to her feminine essence brought an involuntary rush of heat in his loins. His blood stirred and he cursed his aroused wolf.

‘I’m here to take my daughter away,’ she began without preamble, turning towards him as she pushed back the dark hood covering her head. ‘I believe she is your prisoner.’ She removed her black cloak and flung it on the back of a chair.

Shocked, he flared his nostrils and inhaled sharply. It wasn’t her words that stunned him–it was her face. She was a great beauty, with long, dark hair and blue eyes, but even that wasn’t what had him transfixed. It was her skin. It had an ethereal glow that looked almost other worldly. He tore his gaze from her face and looked down at her attire. She was dressed in tight, black warrior garb with weapons attached to her waist and legs, which included daggers, a gilded sword and wooden stakes. By the Gods, was she ready for battle? He narrowed his gaze on her face.

Her piercing, blue eyes held him captive and for a moment, he felt bewitched. ‘Katya is your daughter,’ he said slowly, unable to see any resemblance. Remarkably, this woman didn’t even seem old enough to have a full grown daughter. She looked barely older than his son who was away on his honeymoon.

‘She is.’

‘You are mistaken, Eve. Katya is hardly a prisoner. She has her own chambers and is free to walk the grounds.’

Her mouth tensed. ‘My daughter walks the grounds with royal guards, Your Highness and you post a guard at her chamber door. As I said, she is your prisoner.’ She pursed her lips. ‘Where is she? I wish to see her now. You have no right to keep her here. She has committed no crime.’

He stiffened in response to her tone. She sounded like she was issuing an order and he didn’t take orders from anyone. ‘When was the last time you saw her?’

‘Two years ago.’

‘Do you know what’s become of her since then?’

‘Yes,’ she replied as she tugged off her gloves and tossed them on her cloak that was slung over the chair. ‘She was bitten and turned by a werewolf two years ago. Since then, Balkathan has kept her prisoner in his harem. She escaped his lair a few weeks ago, travelled to your kingdom and you have kept her here against her will since then.’ She raised a delicately winged brow. ‘Will that do, Your Highness?’

A flash of annoyance coursed through his veins. Great beauty or not, her arrogance was beginning to irritate the hell out of him. More astounding was she mentioned the word werewolf as though she mentioned the weather. There was no fear on her face, no alarm, nothing. He stared at her expression and couldn’t believe how composed she appeared.

‘Do you know your daughter is not well? She is quite mad and suffers memory loss. We have been trying to help her.’

‘By locking her up? Do you think herbs, oils and teas are going to cure her?’

‘She is being well taken care of. Hesta is the best healer in the land.’

‘Perhaps for human ailments–coughs, colds, aches. My daughter needs a powerful cure.’ Her expression hardened. ‘If you don’t mind, I will see her now and we’ll be on our way.’

His patience snapped. ‘You cannot take her away. She has information we need. Besides, Balkathan will make attempts on her life and the only safe place for her is here in my castle.’

Her expression went cold. ‘Do you really think your paltry band of Lycan guards can protect her from Balkathan’s fleet of monsters?’

He clenched his fists at his sides. She knew what they were! He growled, narrowing his gaze on her and took a threatening step towards her. Irritated, he noted she did not retreat, but stood her ground, glaring up at him. Was this woman fearless, or was she as mad as her daughter? Mad, he decided because no one dared challenge him.

‘How do you know of us?’ he growled. ‘It is a secret we have guarded for two hundred years. You are not a Lycan. If you were, I would sense you.’

‘There are other immortals, Your Highness, immortals with powers more formidable than your strength and speed.’

He grimaced, running his gaze over her face. There was only one other immortal race. No! She couldn’t be. He detested her kind. It was a reviled race who drank the blood of innocents. A race ruled by the devil. They didn’t look like her. She had the face of an angel.

‘You are a vampire,’ he said hoarsely. He cursed his attraction to her, realising with disgust, the heat in his loins was still present. Apparently, knowing what she was hadn’t lessened his lust for her.

‘Yes, I am a vampire,’ she said. ‘And you are a Lycan. We’re both monsters, so you can wipe that repulsive look from your face.’

‘Insolent woman!’ His blood rushed to his face as he fought his inner beast roaring for escape. ‘Vampires are vile creatures who drink human blood for survival. You will leave this place at once. I will not have you harm my people to quench your bloody thirst.’

His body went still as her cold expression slowly disappeared. He frowned, detecting a bleak and despairing look cloud her eyes. Her gaze wavered and he watched her lower lip quiver. An air of vulnerability surrounded her and he felt a sudden jab of discomfort. Had he hurt her feelings? An involuntary rush of guilt ran through his frame, giving him pause.

Grimacing, he snapped out of it. She was one of the undead, with no heart, no soul and Lycans were not supposed to feel sorry for Vampires.

* * * *

Eve swallowed hard and tried to stop her insecurities from surfacing. She didn’t need the king to tell her she was a vile creature. She already knew that and had lived with the self-loathing for four hundred years.

Even feeding off animals enough to sustain her life and leaving them unharmed didn’t change how she felt about herself.

‘I only want my daughter. Have no fear for your people’s safety.’

His dark gaze narrowed. ‘How do I know that? Vampires have no control over their thirst and they feed on anyone, including infants and children.’

‘You’ll have to trust me.’

‘Trust a vampire? I think not.’

Eve stiffened. ‘My only goal coming here is to take Katya away. My vampire blood has a healing effect. One drop will cure her madness. So, if you don’t mind, I would like to see her now.’

‘How do I know anything you’ve told me is the truth? What if you’re an assassin sent by Balkathan to kill Katya? He wants her dead because she knows where he hides his lair.’ He ran an insolent, dark gaze over her. ‘You don’t even look old enough to have a full grown daughter.’

Angry and frustrated, Eve had had enough and she snapped!

* * * *

She moved so fast, all he saw was a blur. She sprung towards him and pulled his silver dagger from his waist, drawing it up to his neck. She bared her fangs and hissed up at his face, her eyes glowing red. ‘Proof enough I mean you no harm? If I did, you and your two guards behind me would already be dead. Now show me to my daughter!’

Drago raised a sharp hand to his guards. They were shifting, preparing to attack her and he growled at them to stop. ‘At ease!’

They grunted their response, reverting to their human form and Drago glared down at the undead beauty. ‘Your arrogance is astounding, wench. Men have been killed for lesser attempts on my life.’

She tucked her incisors away and calmly handed him his dagger. ‘As I said, I mean you no harm.’ She took a step back and drew in a slow breath, releasing it as though all her energies were spent. ‘Please. I’m growing weary of this cat and mouse. I get it. You hate me because I’m a vampire.’ Her gaze flickered as though momentarily disturbed by some internal thought.

Drago’s anger slowly evaporated as he watched her expression change. Was that sadness he detected?

‘Well, I hate me, too,’ she said woodenly, ‘so let’s move past this to a more important issue–my daughter. I can help her remember where Balkathan’s lair is.’

‘How?’ he asked. Curiously, he was more interested by what she’d said about hating herself. Hadn’t he hated himself two hundred years ago when his castle had been attacked by Balkathan’s army and he’d been turned?

‘I can go into her thoughts. Vampires read minds and I can find her memories buried beneath her madness,’ she said quietly. ‘Please. Do we have a truce? We both want the same thing, the wellbeing of my daughter. I want to take her away with me and you want to know where Balkathan’s lair is.’

She was right. They did want the same thing. Katya’s madness cured. He remained silent, staring at her.

He would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit she intrigued him. She was powerful and arrogant, but there was something else he was beginning to discover about her that left him unsettled. For the first time, he sensed her sorrow, her pain. A small part of him deep inside stirred and reawakened. He understood that pain.

Clenching his jaw fiercely, he ordered harshly, ‘Follow me.’