Unwanted Mate Of The Lycan Kings (by jessica hall) novel Chapter 17

Blood sprays everywhere, and fur as they try to ward off their wolves without hurting them, making me realize they care deeply for their wolves.

I would have to remember that. It means they have a weakness, yet it also means they would probably kill for their pets too.

Yet I could tell this would end in the wolves’ deaths, majestic beautiful creatures, yet lethal and monstrous. A strange combination, they instilled fear and awe. Yet I could tell they wouldn’t stop fighting, which means they would be forced to either leave and submit to their pets, which I know they would not do, or kill them.

“Gnash, Hunter, Shadow!” My voice rings out clearly in an order, not even sounding like my own, nor do I remember thinking or speaking the words. Like some baser instinct to protect, the wolves overrode common sense because they obeyed instantly, moving to sit at my feet.

I blink at what I did. Wondering what the heck is happening and how I commanded their loyal pets when they couldn’t.

“Well then, isn’t this a startling new development?” Comes a deep baritone voice. Everyone stops and peers to the left to see the King.

He is dressed in an elaborate and stylish robe made of thick material, the buttons holding it to his shoulders made of gold, matching the gold medals that lined his shirt.

His clothes beneath the heavy-looking robe are made of silk and embroidered with gold thread, although his crown did not sit on top of his head, he still looked like a king, and was far more presentable than his night clothes when I last saw him.

No, now he oozed power and authority like his sons. Even the air surrounding him seemed otherworldly, eerie, yet powerful. One thing became abundantly clear: this man was powerful and rightfully so being a king. But not even his sons have learned to master the authoritative stance he holds as effortlessly.

The King walks into the center yet the wolves whine at him, instead of growling like they either think he is harmless or knows he is untouchable. I’m not sure which. But it is clear the King does not fear the wolves, instead he gives Gnash and Hunter a scolding look. Both wolves drop their heads and back up toward me.

The King watches them and chuckles, shaking his head before turning his gaze to his three sons.

“It appears your wolves have chosen for you. Now it’s a matter of who she chooses!” He speaks clearly and calmly, yet leaves no room for argument. His aura is stronger than that of his three sons, more powerful, yet looking at the edges, I see the flicker in it. A flicker of death.

“Chosen for us?” Lyon asks, looking between the King and his wolf.

“Appears so.” the King murmurs, looking back at me.

“You’re the girl from the truck. I did hope you would win. There is something about you, I just can’t put my finger on it, but you remind me of someone.” the King muses thoughtfully.

“You’ve met?” King Regan asks him.

“Yes, quite the attitude. Maybe you three have met your match. I do hope so. Maybe there is hope for you yet!” The King speaks.

“She attacked me!”

“Good, you could do with a good beating, son. I am much too old to chase you to deliver it myself. Hopefully, she can smack some sense into you. That’s if she shall choose you. Your mother was never slow to give me a clip behind the ear, would serve you three well.”

I watch him as the King steps past Lyon and Gnash whines at him.

“None of that, I mean the girl no harm Gnash!” The King scolds him and Gnash drops his gaze to the ground as if he is pouting.

“Girl, what is your name?” The King asks and everyone turns to look at me. I stare at them, wondering if we could get to my death part, I was already tired, and I really didn’t feel like playing games of denying the inevitable or the fate that was sealed for me the moment I was chucked into this barbaric ritual.

I may have survived the maze, but no way in hell was I being a maid for these fools or scrubbing the floors beneath their feet. I rather pick my pillar to burn at now, than prolong it.

“Your name?” The King repeats.

“Zirah!” I answer, wondering what is going on.