From Rejected Luna To Lycan Queen (Eloise and Edward) novel Chapter 3

ELOISE.

“Hey! Watch out!”

A chorus of screams from some nearby pack traders snapped me back into reality.

I spun around just in time to see a sleek, pitch black armored sedan barreling toward me. It was moving too fast.

My breath hitched. I froze, my wolf instinct failing me in my grief.

SCREECH!!!

The tires locked, skidding against the gravel. Dust and small rocks flew into the air, swallowing me in a gray cloud. The heavy metal bumper stopped inches—just mere inches—from my knees. The heat radiating from the engine burned my skin.

My heart hammered against my ribs, but strangely I didn't feel fear. I felt… something else.

As the dust settled, an intense, overwhelming scent hit my nose.

It wasn't the smell of rubber or asphalt. It was something organic. Something rotting. It smelled like ancient blood mixed with sulfur and decaying nightshade. It was the smell of a sickness so deep it stained the soul.

The driver's door flew open, and a burly man in a dark suit jumped out. He looked furious.

“Are you insane?” the driver bellowed, marching towards me. “Do you have a death wish, wolf? Why weren't you looking at where you were going?”

He reached out to shove me off the road, but before his hand could touch my shoulder, I grabbed his wrist.

He blinked, shocked by mg speed.

“Stand still,” my voice hoarse but authoritative.

I leaned in and sniffed him aggressively, right at the pulse of his neck.

The driver pulled back, looking at me like I was a lunatic. “What the hell are you doing? Get off me, you lunatic.”

“It's not you,” I muttered, releasing him. “You're as healthy as a horse, though your cholesterol is high. But that smell…”

My gaze drifted past him to the black car, specifically to the back seat. The windows were tinted so dark they looked like polished obsidian, reflecting my rumpled reflection.

Something was drawing me to whatever or whoever was in the back seat. I couldn't see inside, but I could feel it. It felt like I was being stared down by a predator that could swallow the world whole.

“Who is in the car?” I asked, taking a step toward the vehicle.

The driver stepped in front of me, growling low in his throat. “It's none of your business, but you should know that he's no one you should trifle with; he's the Lycan King,” he said, and fear took hold of me immediately.

The Lycan King? The ruthless and dangerous man whom no one has seen his eyes? I couldn't help the reaction I had; I bowed in respect immediately.

But something pulled me to look at the black tinted glasses again; it felt as if he was calling me. I focused on the smells leaking from the cracks of the car door. It was a curse. A powerful and dark magic curse.

“He’s in pain,” I said, staring directly at the black window. “Terrible pain. It feels like fire in the veins, doesn't it?”

I should keep quiet, it's not my business, but I was in one of those modes, it felt like someone was speaking through me each time I was diagnosing someone, which is probably the reason I couldn't keep shut.

“Watch your tongue, you filth,” the driver said with so much fury.

“He can't sleep.” I continued, my voice gaining more strength even when my subconscious knew I should keep quiet. “The moonlight burns him. His wolf his fighting for control, tearing him apart from the inside out. And the eyes….”

I paused, the diagnosis forming clearly in my mind as if the smell was whispering the symptoms to me.

“It's the Chromia Curse, isn't it?” I said softly. “The color of his eyes is not the same. They change color with the moon. If he doesn't treat it soon, he’ll go feral within the year.”

“Im not a healer. I just happen to have a good nose. Find the witches of the east; they deal with curses. Or high healers.”

“I don't want witches or healers. I want you,” he growled, leaning forward slightly.

My heart skipped a beat. “I want you.”

“You diagnosed me without touching me. I don't care who you are or what pack you're running from. Fix my eyes, fix my wolf. Name your price.”

He pulled out a gold card from his suit jacket, and I stared at it. It was enough money to run away from the goddamed place and be set for the rest of my life.

But running wasn't what I wanted anymore.

I looked at the man—he was the ruthless Lycan King that everybody feared. He was dying, and maybe I was the only one who could save him. And he was the most powerful wolf in existence. More powerful than Alpha Edward and the Lockwood family.

A plan formed in my mind. A reckless and dangerous plan.

I didn't take the card. Instead, I leaned against the door frame of his million-dollar car, looking him dead in in his sunglasses.

“I don't want your money,” I said calmly.

“Everyone wants money,” he countered.

“I don't.” I tilted my head, letting my eyes flash with the remnants of my anger. “But thinking about it now…I might have a little problem that only you can solve.”

He looked at me with renewed interest, a predator assessing a worthy partner.

“A trade?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

“A trade,” I confirmed. “I heal you. You destroy my enemies.”