Greymoor Academy: I Accidentally Bonded With Four Lycan Royals! novel Chapter 63

Chapter 63: 63. Ambushed II

Maisie

Without taking my eyes off him, I backed up.

"You have matured beautifully since I last saw you," he said.

I shivered against the night air. "W-who are you?"

"I had hoped you would have some recollection of me. Well, I do suppose the inferior blood in you is to fault for your fickle mindedness."

His words were rough strewn and his dialect, though lilting, felt archaic in the way he emphasized on the wrong syllables.

He drew up to an impossibly taller height. He had to be above seven feet tall. Closer to eight, maybe. And when he finally answered my question, I was more than convinced that he was a truly mad man.

"I am Prince Kisten Hunt. Your half-brother. And your betrothed. And I have waited ten years for this day."

I stumbled back. "You’ve got the wrong girl. I have no brother."

"Your father was Richter Adams," he said in a bored tone. "His Omega wench was Matilda Adams. You were promised to me the moment you were born. You were the strongest hybrid child, your royal Lycan blood so potent, it smothered the wolf inside you completely. You could have passed off for a full fledging, and it was only right that you would be wedded to someone of equal strength. Me. Mother betrothed us. You were to be my mate. My breeder.

"But your coward father stole you both away to the werewolf lands, calling our customs ’barbaric.’ Child marriage, he said. As if our females are not strong enough to take the knot from their first blood."

What on earth...?

His lips curled. "We punished him for it. But he was clever. He knew we would come and he prepared for it. You were taken from us, yet again, and this time to keep you properly hidden, that idealistic, violet-eyed freak handed you over to Hayes with a trunk full of gold. You served as a maid all your life, not by fate, but by design. It was a role specifically chosen to keep Mother and I from getting to you." A pause. "Do I still have it wrong, Maisie Adeline Adams?"

I stared hard at him. "I don’t know what asylum you broke out of, Prince Kisten Hunt, but I’ve had a really long day. So, I’m going to go that way, and you’re going to go in the opposite direction and find professional help—"

He moved.

One second he was ten feet away. The next, he was breathing me in, nose brushing my hair. "You’ve been claimed," he muttered. Then he shook his head. "Not that it matters. I’ve come to take back what is mine. Tonight, we will complete the mating rite. I will mount you. I will knot you. And I will put my seed in you before the moon sets."

That sealed it. He was unhinged. And my blood ran cold upon the realization that I was in grave, terrible danger.

"Stay the hell away from me," I whispered, feet shuffling back in the sand.

Kisten tilted his head, genuinely confused. "Why do you fight? In our hills, females know their place. When a male claims what is his, they open their legs and take the knot. You will be no different. You will enjoy it."

This man wasn’t like Soren. He wasn’t like any of the somewhat civilized Lycans I had met. There was something wild in his eyes and it took a second for it to click.

He was acting like a rogue. That is, if Lycans had rogues.

Because of their inability to find refuge anywhere else because of their banishment, rogues would often stick to the wilds, rather than mingle with humans. If they stayed in the wilds for long enough, they often weren’t civilized, had zero social skills, and acted with more animal tendencies, because surviving the wilds often meant you had to be in your animal form most of the time.

And being in your animal form most times often led to the loss of connection with what gave you conscience.

Rule #4: Running Makes You Prey.

Oh god. Mercer. How could one harmless decision to go out with Lyon lead to something as catastrophic as this?

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