Chapter
I step outside into the freezing winter air and the flurry of snow fla kes that have just begun to drift down from the sky. I shiver in my thin jacket that offers little warmth as I feel the bitter cold envelop my body. The stars tw in kle and taunt me as I glance around to find I’m in an alleyway. With a deep breath, I take off running down the street, desperately trying to put some distance between me and Prince Xandros, who is chasing me. I can hear shouting from the bar, and don’t waste my time by sitting around idle. Instead, I keep running, praying I can outrun them, yet knowing it is futile to try.
Even with my heart pounding in my chest and the knowledge that may be doomed, I refuse to give up.
Running down the alleyway with my heart pounding in my chest. The cold winter air stings my face as I race down the snow-dusted streets. Glancing over my shoulder, I spot the Prince chasing after me, his long strides closing the gap between us.
Fear courses through my veins, and desperately I veer down another dark alleyway-only to stop dead in my tracks when I see about a dozen figures lurking in the shadows ahead. They are vampires-and they’re blocking my path, and they also appear drunk. With their eyes glowing blood-red and fangs bared, they advance toward me.
F uck. I peer around, looking for another escape but find none when a growl fills the air, causing the vampires to freeze in place.
Looking over my shoulder, I spot the Prince and a heap of guards stepping into the alleyway. It’s clear they are not there to play games.
The vampires react quickly and charge toward the guards, not recognizing the Prince for who he is. The Prince lunges forward at
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full speed, tackling two vampires at once before they have a chance to reach me. His powerful claws rip through their clothing and skin while his razor-sharp teeth tore into their throats. Though outnumbered, he manages to fend them off until I can make a break for it once again, but I don’t get far as I am cut off by the feral fighting.
Their attacks are easily deflected by sharp claws and powerful jaws that snap at them menacingly. Clawed fingers wrap around my arm, and I am jerked out of the chaos by the Prince. His excitement is short-lived when he is tackled. His claws slash the man, and he is able to use them to fend off his attackers and protect himself from harm while giving me another opportunity to try to escape.
However, even with his sharp claws, he is still not strong enough to escape being attacked by another; just as he once again grabs me, I am thrown around like a ragdoll as he tries to stop the vampires from getting to me, desperately he rips me back again trying to haul me away from the fray. His claws end up slicing through my arm. His sharp claws slice through my arm like a hot knife through butter, and I shriek, clutching my arm as blood pours out of it. The sight of my arm is horrific, and I can clearly see the deep claw marks tearing their way across my skin. Blood is pouring out of the wounds, and stinging pain slivers up my arm. The pain and shock overwhelm me, and I scream as blood runs down my arm and drips onto the snow from my fingertips.
After what feels like hours of chaos and confusion, I catch an opportunity to escape and seize it without hesitation. Sneaking out of the chaos and blo ody fray, I sprint off into the darkness while they’re distracted and spot the forest at the end of the street. Casting one final look back towards the alleyway, I notice the silhouettes of the guards and the Prince still engaged in the battle. Adrenaline pumps through my veins, and my mind feels like it’s
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running a mile a minute. I’m aware that I have no idea what I’m running into, but I know that I have to get away from the Prince.
With renewed energy, I race through the dense forest. As I run through the trees and underbrush, branches whip my face as if urging me faster. However, eventually, all sounds of pursuit fade away into nothingness around me.
For a while, I keep running out of fear of being caught until I’m deep in the forest, and my heart pounds loudly in my ears, making me sta g ger. I try to catch my breath as the eerie quietness of the surrounding darkness sets me on edge. At first, the pain from my arm is just an annoying discomfort, but soon enough, the pain becomes unbearable, and my skin flushes red and hot and angry.
My head is spinning, and despite the freezing cold weather, I know I am drenched in sweat. Moving slower, vertigo rushes over me, and I stop trying to catch my breath. I grip my bleeding arm as I assess the damage. I’ve heard Lycans are creatures that can transform humans into Lycans. Their bites contain powerful venom that causes the transformation, effectively marking the person they change and making them their mate. However, their scratches can be lethal because it’s toxic to their prey, which is supposed to stop them from getting far if they manage to escape.
While peeling the torn layers of my jacket back, I gasp, noticing the wound, which in such a short amount of time, has turned black and appears severely infected. The wounds are still fresh, oozing with a blackish-red liquid that I know is filled with toxins from the Prince. The cold sting of the Prince’s claws as they ripped through my flesh, left behind a sharp reminder of just how close I’d come to death. Yet death appears to be not off the table yet as I eye the claw marks, feeling sick to my stomach.
The toxins are spreading rapidly through my veins, leaving me
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lightheaded and feeling sick. Lurching forward, I throw up in the snow, heaving up the contents of my stomach. Once finished, I wipe a hand across my forehead, feeling how hot it is. My skin is clammy, and it takes every bit of willpower for me to rise to my feet and force myself to keep moving.
Continuing to push forward, the claw marks on my arm burn fiercely as they are seared with the toxins from the Lycan Prince. I trudge through the dense forest, my feet becoming heavier with each step. The further I walk, the more nauseous I begin to feel as the poisons continues to course through my veins and take hold. A violent wave of heat passes through me, my skin becoming
saturated and tight until sweat starts to pour from me. While my heart races faster and faster. Eventually, it seems that every step is a mammoth task.
The surrounding trees seem to blur together in a never-ending wall of green, but still, I keep pushing forward. Each breath I take is labored, and every step causes intense pain. But eventually, I still manage to make it back home as the trees begin to clear and spread out more around me.
It feels like hours or even days have passed by the time I finally reach the end of my street. My vision is blurry, and I can feel myself burning up as I sta g ger and stumble toward my house. I blink back the specks trying to steal my vision as I clutch the hand railing on the steps, steps that seem far steeper than normal.
Pulling myself up the first step, I wobble on my feet. Blinking, I try to clear my vision, which is tunneling fast. A second passes, and the next thing I see is the steps rushing toward my face.
The impact of my body hitting them, I don’t feel, yet I hear the air leave my lungs in a huff while my eyes roll into the back of my head, and I am swallowed by darkness.
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Each breath I take makes my lungs wheeze as I try to breathe. My skin burns with a heat that I can’t explain, my muscles tense, and I can’t seem to relax. I feel as if I’m suffocating, and I can’t do anything to stop it. My heart is racing, and I can feel my blood pressure rising. I’m struggling to keep calm as I urge my eyes to open.
The sound of running water reaches my ears, and my uncle’s voice is loud. I blink, and my eyes flutter open to see the moldy roof of our bathroom. My shoulder blades are pressed against the wall, but I don’t care.
My mind is too preoccupied with the thought of how much pain I’m in. The water is freezing cold, and I lurch upright, clutching the sides of the tub. Hearing the clank of chains from somewhere, I glance around. Suddenly, I realize that my hands are chained to two giant bolts that my uncle must have installed on the bathroom wall. One bolt leads to the chains holding my hands together. I try to scream, but my voice is h ar se.
My uncle enters the room, and his face is stern and unreadable in the dim light. He takes a step towards me, and I flinch, my heart pounding loudly in my ears. He raises a hand and points a crooked finger at me. “Quiet, I have a headache!” He snaps at me.
Time seems to meld into one long moment as I take in his expression, my heart racing. He crosses the room and stands above me, his presence oppressive. The tension between us is palpable, and I can feel it in the air, like a static charge, as I wait for him to make the next move. All of my senses are heightened as I anticipate what is going to happen next.
“What?” I ask, yanking on my hands, trying to free them.
“F u c king, finally!” My uncle sneers, dumping a bag of ice into the
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water. His voice seems so much louder and more nasal than I remember. Even my eyesight seems stronger as I take in the brush marks on the wall from painting the bathroom last year.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, my voice shaking with fear.
“Mal called. He said you ran from him. I found you outside, passed out. What Lycan scratched you, huh?”
“Mal?” I stammer.
“Don’t worry. I told him you weren’t here,” my uncle informs me, and I look at him. I don’t answer and just keep staring at him. He sighs and shakes his head, then turns around. However, when I try to break free, he turns back.
My uncle grabs my arm, and I scream, trying to break free. He raises his hand, and I flinch, expecting a slap, but instead, he digs his fingers into the flesh of my right arm, then feels my forehead, and curses, “You’re still burning up!”
“You didn’t tell him where I was?” I ask, thankful.
are
“Of course not. I’m not telling him his goods ruined. Gotta fix you up before I hand you over,” he tells me, then turns around and retrieves a paper bag. He opens it, dumping the contents into the water. My brows furrow in confusion as I look at the wolfsbane floating around. He grabs a giant mixing spoon, the one that hangs above the stove usually, and starts stirring the water, creating a murky purple-colored concoction. He reaches for a small bottle from the side of the tub, pours some of the liquid in, and continues stirring. “This will fix you up,” he says.
“Huh?” I whisper, trying to figure out what he’s doing.
“The wolfsbane will help neutralize the toxins in the water and your
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blood.” he tells me. I gape at him, wondering what the heck he is talking about.
“But why do I need it? I am not a Lycan.”
“It’s for the infection, kid. I’ve seen grown men turn rabid with infection. Surprised you haven’t fazed. Most people turn rabid before it kills them. But this, it’ll knock it out in no time,” my uncle explains calmly.
I try to remember what I know about Lycan infections, but the buzzing from the light is extremely distracting. Lycan infections are caused by the toxin that attacks the body, causing severe pain and weakness, then usually kills the host. The virus is spread from the poison in the Lycans claws, making it extremely difficult to fight off without help, but this is the first I’ve heard of it causing people to go rabid. It is sometimes possible to cure an infection. with wolfsbane. Rarely, but I’ve heard stories where it has worked, but I wasn’t scratched by an ordinary Lycan; I was scratched by the Prince.
“That’ll rid you of the poison long enough for him to collect you. I don’t give a fuck if you die or kill him once the trade papers are signed.” My uncle tells me.
No sooner than that, my skin burns as he tells me, “I can’t hand you over like this.” I try to jump out of the water, wondering what is happening, only to find chains strapped to my wrist and my ankles that are attached to the wall prevents me.
My scream is deafening as my skin begins to sizzle and burn. He has doused me in a wolfsbane concoction that is designed to temporarily block the effects of any poison from entering my system. However, it hurts like it’s setting me on fire.
All this will do is give him a window of opportunity to make the
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trade and for Mal to collect me, ensuring that I am not dead by the time he returns me to the Prince.
My uncle grabs a face washer, jamming it in my mouth. I try to spit it out when he punches me, my head whips to the side, smacking the tiles, and I see darkness for a moment when suddenly he is duct-taping the face washer in my mouth. I try to reach for it with my chained hand when he yanks on the chains held with a bolt to the wall.
I am forced back under the water, my feet being dragged higher and forced on my back. I scream as the wolfsbane burns me, and I thrash when he yanks on the other chains, suspending my hands in the air.
“Quiet, you’ll ruin the game!” he spits at me while I try to breathe around the duct tape. He then walks out, leaving me in agony as I scream in pain. I’m not a Lycan. Why is this stuff burning me?
Time escapes me as minutes feel like hours as the poison in my system writhes through me. My skin is blistered and bleeding in places, and the wound on my arm, although, is slowly closing over; I don’t know what that means, nor do I care. I long for death. It would be better than this pain. I can feel my life slipping away, my vision blurring, and my senses dulling, and I can barely move. Then darkness descends, and I am no more.
I have no idea how long I have been in here when I hear the door open and my uncle steps in. He presses a clammy hand on my head and curses. “F uc k, I can’t hold him off any longer. He’s been ringing for three days! He stopped by and checked your room to ensure you weren’t here,” my uncle Sven informs me.
Three days? I’ve been submerged in this tub for three days. I can. feel my heart racing as my uncle hurriedly pulls my limp body out
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