The Lycan's Miserable Queen

HIS LAW AND HIS VOW FOR VENGEANCE PART ONE

HIS LAW AND HIS VOW FOR VENGEANCE PART ONE

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♤ Kingdom of Bane, Ferine City♤

¡• THE LYCAN PALACE •¡

His aurous, benighted eyes laid over the debris, his chest heaving and dropping rapidly to accommodate his ragged breathing. Three. He could count at least three mangled limbs connected to three torsos. A leg or half a leg or arm on each torso. All the cadavers were with severed heads, faces too disfigured to identify. He could still taste that unsavory, metallic tang of blood on his tongue. Red coated his teeth and dripped from his mouth. Grimacing, he used the back of his hand to wipe his mouth and spat out to the ground.

He turned away from the bloodied remains, a deep frown set on his face as he stared at his calloused hands. His large hands were stained red and black, grime and fragments of torn flesh trapped in his fingernails. He was disgusted, not by the scenery, but by his actions. This was nothing new; blood, grisly s*******r and a battleground strewn with decapitated, disemboweled bodies did not make him qualmish at all. In fact some even dared to say he found the sight of severed limbs ravishing and the taste of blood decadent, while some argued he surrounded himself with blood and gore to stop the sight of it from haunting him because that is where his biggest nightmare was birthed.

King Larkien stood tall, his hulking build enswathed with the dark aura he effused in stupefying, suffocating volumes. Having just shifted back to his humanoid form, his nudity in all its glory was on display. In that provoking state, he trudged on, each step executed with more reluctance than the last, but he made it to the courtyard. A group of servants quickly noticed him and fled, while pretending the aim not to be to remove themselves from his path.

Every single person in the palace knew to stay out of his way and avoid interacting with him as much as they possibly can around these times. Because when the 7th drew closer, his beast could not be tamed and he wrecked all in his path.

He hissed lowly as a young maid hastily spun on her heel and made a run for it after almost stumbling into him while distracted by the load of garments hanging from her arms.

He was feared greatly, he had earned himself a reputation he could not necessarily say he was proud of. The kingdom of Bane had never known a king quite as ruthless and as bloodthirsty as him and as much as it displeased his father, he wanted to keep it that way. He had become exactly what his father had always feared he would become and he was beyond help. No one could save him from the dark abyss he was plunging in. He did not want to be saved. Every single being who had tried to "save" him had failed, dismally and was severely disappointed.

The courtyard led to a natural splendor; beauty he could not see but was appreciated by many who beheld it, especially his mother. A garden, the biggest in the kingdom. He walked through the garden teemed with weeds and flowers from alien lands, feeling that maddening pain slowly return to him in the form of wrathfulness.

A giant fountain carved from the prettiest of stones was the centerpiece of the garden and the next to be dealt with ruin at his hands. The clear, turquoise water lost its purity as he immersed his body in the pool below the pour of saliently falling water. He dipped his head, his entire body under water and he closed his eyes and allowed the water cleanse his body. He only closed his eyes for a fraction of a second and he saw her. Her glimmering emerald green eyes popped up in his mind and he instantly opened them and erased the image from his mind. He did not want to think about her, he wanted to stop feeling, however he was raging, fury had successfully ambushed him and his beast craved to cause pain and destruction again. He had to forget about her…. Just for now. Especially now. It was especially harder now. He had known better days, this was not his norm and he did not want it to be.

The Lycan king cussed under his breath as his father's words replayed in his mind, further enraging him and making him acknowledge his deviant behaviour. Four of his loyal, most fiercest warriors laid dismantled on the field, life having been ripped from them for nothing at all.

He was out of control, but he was not going to stop until comeuppance was served, until he gets his revenge.

"Get a grip of yourself son! For such minor shortcomings, these men will walk away unscathed, am I clear, Larkien? You cannot keep taking out your aggressions on my- your people, I will not allow it! It has been a near three years, this has to stop!"

Those were the words of the former king, king Balor Feral. As much as Larkien sat on his throne, his father's word was very much still above his; much to his displeasure.

He f*****g hated him… sometimes… especially when he chose to disregard his feelings, his beast's feelings because of some political gains, for the sake of pleasing his own selfish ambitions. He had lost his mate in the worst, most unjust manner and his father expected him to just move on like a mere filthy, worthless rogue had died, not his fated mate. King Balor did not care, for no other reason than the fact that his late mate was not the one he had tied to him in betrothal.

In this state, he knew it was best to ignore the head of the Feral dynasty, because in all certainty, his father was to do nothing but piss him off and set him off on a rampage again.

This was now a routine, he had become that predictable. The servants already knew of his movements and perchances during this time of the year. One of his favourite robes had been left for him, along with his favourite drink for nourishment and to calm him down. The burn of Dragon Tears on the back of his throat induced stings which rippled all the way to his mind in numbing waves, offering him only momentous pleasure and leaving him with a rush of blood to his groin and a need for greater pleasure.

With each swill he took from the golden glass, more blood rushed to his groin and he became more and more ravenous. He made way to his bedroom, already wondering of Algron's whereabouts and even more piqued by the thought of what kind of woman or women he was going to bring him this evening. Algron had severed in the Lycan palace for over a century, he was fiercely loyal and discreet and he was his second favourite servant. His selection of women never failed him and that only put more good on his name. Not that Algron even struggled, the women were at his disposal, no woman, especially she- wolves would pass on the opportunity to serve the Lycan king in bed. A king with his sovereignty could get any woman he wanted.

The plan was simple, he would take a shower, perform his routinely ritual, then f**k some she-wolf or lycaness senseless; but upon entering his bedroom, he realized that he will not be needing Algron.

Villane was already waiting for him; splayed seductively on his bed with a silky sheet draped over her naked body. She was ready for him, just how he liked her. Out of all the women he had bedded over the two years, Villane was by far his favourite lover. She was the only woman he had had s*x with more than once, because she was the only woman who could take his beast, the only woman who could satisfy him. Larkien was dead inside, he lived through life desperate to be able to feel again, to experience any other emotion than resentment and vengeance and through s*x, he could at least feel something…. Something different from emptiness....

"My king," she bowed her head and repositioned herself on her knees. Her sultry voice was alluring, mellifluous and was like a velvety caress to the ears, which enriched her already obtrusive s*x appeal, "I am here to serve, to fulfill all your desires. I will pleasure his highness to his liking," the sheet cascaded down from her body, falling in rumples as she climbed down the large bed and posed right in front of him, "my body is your possession, your instrument," her slim fingers pinched the fabric of the gown right above the knot of the belt and she gazed into his eyes lustfully, "I am yours to play. Use my body to sate your hunger, please do not stop until you are satisfied. May I help you take off your robe, my king?" She asked in a hushed whisper.

She awaited his usual response- a subtle nod of his head and a not so subtle throaty growl of approval, before her eager fingers untied the knot and she peeled the gown from his body. She then allowed his hands to settle on his narrow hips, moving her fingers towards his groin in a light movement, letting her cold flesh to barely graze his. She was tantalizing him, making him simmer in anticipation. She loved the power that presided over their passionate love affair, because she held all of it. As much as he dominated and took her ruthlessly, as much as he did as he pleased with her body- she controlled him, she was in control because she offered him release, she offered him pleasure he could find no where else and that reward of satisfaction made him need her. And my she wanted him to need her for eternities to come. Villane considered herself a special woman in his life, though she would never be satisfied until she is his queen. The king did not yet know it, but she had staked claim on him and she was very careful to get rid of any woman she foresees to be a thorn on her side in the future before she even becomes a threat. No one was ever going to take her position from her, no one. The last lycan would shrivel up to dust and become one with the north wind before she allows that to happen.

"Villane-" He grunted.

His darkening eyes warned her as her fingers curved into his inner thigh and she exchanged him a coy smile. She was far from demure, he knew that as well, but she knew that he preferred her to be docile and innocent so the sense of being in control could be elevated for him. Villane was a frigid she-wolf, strong-willed and obstinate, but to him, she was one hundred percent submissive. King Larkien was a brute in bed, and when in this particular mood, he did not like being teased, but Villane had a bold taste for risk and was ever tempted by the thought of unleashing the beast in him and receiving him in his most beastly, brutal state.

Her lust-filled eyes twinkled with an emotion much closer to wickedness than innocence and it mingled with discernible dissatisfaction, which she did not voice- yet, as she chose to proceed.

"How would you like me?" She bit her bottom lip as his impatience showed itself in his animalistic growls and the manner in which he clenched his jaw.

"On your knees." He commanded with a gnarl tugging at every syllables. He hissed as she obliged immediately and dropped to her knees, leaving her face directly in front of his raging, twitching monster. He expected to feel the warmth of her mouth wrapped around him, not the heavy sigh that heaved from her chest and words he did not care to hear that followed only a breathing moment after his strong thighs framed her figure.

Villane knew that she had him right where she wanted him and thought to strike while the iron is still hot. He was ravenous, desperate for release and to numb his pain, and she was hopeful that he needed that pleasure and release she could give him badly enough for him to give her what she wants.