Unwanted Mate Of The Lycan Kings (by jessica hall) novel Chapter 118

~Lyon~

Fury pounds in my veins as I dial Zeke's number and hit call, Zeke's name glowing ominously on my phone screen. I feel a tinge of unease about my father, but I trust in Regan's word. He has always been the most rational one, the one that does all the jobs we don't want to do. He deals with the surrounding kingdoms, so we don't have to. He handles treaties, taking on most of the hard work, so I don't doubt when he says he'll handle it, but it's always best for everyone to be on the same page. Zeke answers, and I relayed everything to him that Regan wanted me to pass on. "No, I am not far out from your kingdom, about an hour away max," I tell him.

"How's Zirah?" I ask him.

"Sleeping," He answers, and I know she marked him, and I could feel the change in our bond, hers morphing and twisting into desire overnight before I felt his presence alongside hers. It reminded me of the blood bond I shared with my brothers, yet not feeling Regan is a little odd. Kind of like losing your comfort blanket as a kid. He's always been the first one to pick up on us, our anger, and fears while keeping his tightly locked away until it bursts like it did earlier.

I knew she would find out about Regan not honing his sins, though I am slightly surprised Zeke let her see his. Yet his, he turned into redemption, which I find is the most startling. He twisted fate, turning a sin into some twisted version of a virtue. Hanging up the phone, the car jolts as it slows down quickly.

"What's going on?" I find myself asking the driver as the sleek black car slows down, my eyes catching sight of warning signs flashing in the morning light. The driver's reply grates on my nerves, adding to my discordant thoughts.

"Road work, my king," he grumbles, his voice a jarring contrast to the quiet of the car. The car crawls along, matching my mounting impatience. When the driver mumbles something under his breath, I turn towards him, my curiosity piqued.

"Pardon?" I probe, straining to catch his words. He motions outside, his eyes focused on the road ahead.

"We're driving at a snail's pace, sir. But I don't see any roadwork," he grumbles. I lean forward, scanning the road beyond the windshield. The car inches around a sweeping bend, only for us to be confronted by a massive truck blocking our path.