Mark of the Lycan Queen

Chapter 5. An emblem of the past

My breath caught in my throat as the Lycan King's gaze bore into me, his eyes filled with a chilling infusion of power and dominance. Fear surged through every fiber of my being, paralyzing me in his presence.

If only I was a few minutes quicker, I’d be far gone into the woods.

Fate seems to be cruel. Mocking me.

He approached me slowly, deliberately, his steps emitting softly and I couldn't take my eyes off him, not even as I so much wanted to. The air grew heavy with ominous tension, suffocating my every gasp for breath. My mind raced, searching for an escape, but I was cornered, trapped between the window and the intensity of his gaze.

Even my wolf seems to waver in his presence but I managed to keep my head from lowering.

I won't cower.

But I wanted so much to.

A few strands of his hair waved across his left eye, reaching his prominent cheekbone. My eyes instantly drew back to his eyes as his voice, low and velvety, dripped with a dangerous allure. "Trying to escape, Little Wolf?" he asked, his words laced with a dark amusement that sent shivers down my spine.

“Even with my warning,” A cold ghost of a smirk played on his lips, his eyes gleaming with a twisted amusement.

I felt a knot tighten in my stomach, the weight of his gaze bearing down on me. I may have readied myself for his outburst, but with this unexpected change of character, I was unsure of what to expect next, he was…confusing to put a word to.

I swallowed nervously, my throat dry and constricted. His presence alone threatened to stifle any semblance of courage I had left.

His eyes, like piercing orbs of shadow, followed the knots I had hastily tied and a shallow scoff escaped him, or perhaps it was more of a derisive chuckle disguised as a sound.

“The idea isn't bad,” he remarked, his voice laced with an unsettling blend of amusement and disdain. "But those knots, Little Wolf, they are far too loose. They'll snap under the weight they are meant to bear."

His words lingered in the air like a haunting echo, each syllable a reminder that he was at the top and I was just a girl caught in his trap.

I took a step back, my body trembling with an unbridled fusion of terror and resistance. "You have no right to keep me here," I managed to say, my voice trembling despite my attempts to sound strong. "I demand you let me go."

A chilling smile curled at the corners of his lips, revealing sharp, gleaming teeth. "Oh no, Little Wolf, you misunderstand," he said, his voice a haunting melody. "You're not my captive, perhaps a guest. But I can assure you, leaving is not an option."

His words hung in the air, wrapping around me like a suffocating cloak. Fright swelled through me, and I took another desperate step back, my fingers tightening around the makeshift rope.

“A guest you strike?” I challenged, tightly clutching the sheet in my hand. I know it was daring of me to speak up like that, but I couldn't hold the words back any longer.

“Yes, a guest,” he responded, his tone carrying a chilling hint of justification. “If that guest refuses to listen. They sometimes need it.”

“You must really love to torment those weaker than you.” I retorted, the bitterness seeping into my voice.

The words rolled out of my mouth even as I wanted to hold it back. It was anger, perhaps disbelief of how he thinks. “I don't know what it is you want from me but I will never be your captive. Not to a beast like you. You don't even have a heart, do you?”

My words seemed to have struck a chord and I watched something shift in his eyes. He advanced, closing the distance between us. His gaze remained fixated on me, like a predator assessing its prey. "Be mindful of what you say,” he hissed, his voice laced with a dangerous edge and low. "You know nothing."

I clung to the fraying threads of courage, drawing a sharp intake of breath, almost painful. But the Lycan King was relentless, closing in on me with every single step.

His hand reached out, his fingers tracing a chilling painful path along my jawline, causing my skin to crawl. I recoiled, but there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. His touch was possessive, sending a wave of revulsion through my core.

Forcefully, he shoved my face to the side to get more view of my birthmark. “Until I know why you have this very mark on your neck, you’ll heed every word I say," he whispered, his voice a chilling caress.

My birthmark – it has always been the one thing that set me off…but why is he hell-bent on knowing more about it? He wasn't even a werewolf!

The birthmark may be distinctive and resembles the very mark werewolves claim their mates with – odd it is but I had gotten mine from birth; an emblem of my past or something, I don't know! All I know is that I just want to get the hell out of here.

"I can smell your fear. And your bullheadedness will only make me restrict you more. You should think before you act because the only thing keeping you alive is this mark.”

With that, he shoved my face off.

My breath hitched, and I fought back tears of desperation. I refused to succumb to his dominance, to become a plaything in his twisted pursuit.

“You can't keep me here forever," I declared, my words laced with dread. "I will fight you if I have to.”

His eyes narrowed, a perilous glint in his gaze. "You are a feisty one, I'll give you that," he murmured, his voice filled with a chilling amusement.

Just as the tense silence hung in the air, I glimpsed the double doors of the room creaked open, revealing two ladies entering with caution. Their presence was fleeting, barely registering in my frightened state, as the Lycan King's dominating presence kept me transfixed.

His voice, grave yet oddly warm, broke the silence. "You must be hungry and in need of a shower," he said, his words laden with a strange blend of command and concern.

My eyes involuntarily traveled to the well-set tray and the aroma of whatever was in there filled the air, tempting my senses. Despite my hunger, resentment tainted my voice as I bitterly replied, "I don't want your meal, nor do I want anything from a tyrant like you. You can go burn with them!”

Instantly, his expression darkened, a flicker of anger dancing in his eyes and in one swift motion, he closed the remaining distance between us, his hand shooting out to push me against the wall. Pain shot through my back, and I winced, my eyes shimmering with suppressed tears.

A low growl rumbled in his throat, his eyes narrowing with a treacherous intensity. "Watch your tongue, Little Wolf," he warned, his voice a menacing growl. "You have no idea the consequences of disrespecting me."

But my senses were crammed by the claw wound in my back which throbbed relentlessly, intensifying the pain as if it reveled in mocking my resistance.

The lingering ache gnawed at me, causing me to grit my teeth in agony. It was almost unbearable, and for a moment, I felt a strong urge to beg him for mercy, to plead for relief from the torment. But I mustered all my strength, fighting against the desperation and refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“Do not think I will spare you,” he growled, his voice dripping with a cold menace. His eyes bore into mine, radiating a dark power that made me wish I never uttered a word.

And just then he released me, “Clean yourself up,” he instructed, stepping back with an icy glimmer in his eyes.

Without another word, he turned and left the room, leaving me shaken and alone. I sank to the floor, my back aching and tears streaming down my face.