Evelyn

I thought a few days with my family would be a mercy, but it turns out that accepting a rejection from one’s mate results in a few days of agony as the body and mind adjust to the new reality. Instead of a few days more of making memories with my parents, it’s been a few days bedridden while my parents cry over both my current state and the future I can’t escape.

I lay in my bed, shuddering in pain, shivering beneath a mountain of blankets even as I sweat through the first few layers. It’s as if my body no longer knows how to regulate itself.

I doubt Lucas knew this would happen. Rejections are so uncommon, especially among werewolves who are typically banded together against lycans. My mother had to call a healer after the first day for fear that I was dying.

It was the healer who informed us that the symptoms would pass in three days.

I’d be wishing for day four, for the symptoms to pass, if day four wasn’t also the day I’ll be taken to the lycan king as his sacrifice.

“We’ll leave, all three of us,” Mom murmurs from where she sits at my bedside. Tears track down both our cheeks – mine in pain, hers in concern.

“Mom,” I groan in pain and annoyance. We’ve had this conversation so many times over the last seventy-two hours. My parents keep offering to leave the pack, to escape this terrible fate with me.

But a werewolf without pack affiliation is vulnerable to lycan cruelty. After the war, werewolves learned to survive through community, through coming together against a common enemy. We protect each other.

Without the protection of a pack, we would become rogues. Then all three of us would be in danger instead of just me. I won’t implicate them.

“Then you go,” she sniffles. “Anything has to be better than certain death at the hands of an uncontrollable tyrant. At least you’ll have a chance.”

I shake my head slowly, hating how the movement causes the room to spin. “They’ll interrogate you to find me.”

“Don’t tell us where you’re going.” She wipes at her tears. “Easy solution.”

“They’ll torture you,” I argue.

She knows I’m right, and she cries harder. Not because she’s afraid of being tortured, but because she knows I won’t risk her safety to protect myself.

“Here we are.” Dad nudges my bedroom door open with his shoulder as he brings in a tray holding three bowls of steaming soup. Tears come faster as the scent hits me.

Chicken dumpling soup. My favorite.

This is it. The past three days have been me, a mess in bed, Mom, unable to leave my side, and Dad, unable to keep still. Both of them trying desperately to find some way to help me.

I listen to every idea, every option, express gratitude for every gift and kindness, even if I’ve already accepted my fate.

So I enjoy these last moments with them, as much as I can while consumed by the dual torment of physical and mental agony.

The next morning, I wake without chills or sweats or despair, just like the healer promised. And lycan soldiers knock on the door at the break of dawn, just like Lucas promised.

I can hear them downstairs, demanding that I leave immediately. Mom, who slept in the armchair next to my bed, wakes in a panic, wrapping me in a defeated hug. She whispers final words to me while we listen to my father leading the soldiers up the stairs.

“Survive,” she demands. “Find a way to escape the lycan king. Find a way home to us.”

Then the lycan soldiers are gripping my shoulders roughly, dragging me away while my mother shrieks and cries into my father’s protective embrace.

The soldiers add me to a carriage packed with other unmated women, all of us sent in batches to the lycan royal palace. I study the women around me, noting that most of them seem filled with despair for their future, clearly understanding the likelihood of death. To my surprise though, some women are as well coifed and made up as I was on the day of my mate ceremony.

They’re ambitious. Hoping to become the lycan king’s Luna.

I have heard rumors. Years ago, King Alexander of the lycans conquered the werewolves in a long-forgotten war and became king of these lands. The position of his Luna though has always remained vacant.

It’s said that the king lost control of his wolf because he hasn’t found his true Luna. As his wolf became gradually uncontrollable, King Alexander turned into a cruel tyrant. Now no one can defeat the out-of-control lycan king.

And the only way to find the elusive true Luna is through the annual sacrificial ceremony, in search of someone nearly impossible to identify, except by the lycan king.

As we enter the gates of the royal palace, I watch with the other women in the carriage as thirty or so bodies are carried out the same entrance.

All their necks are snapped.

A few of the women gasp in shock, my stomach dropping as I twist away from the horrific sight.

“Quiet in there!” a lycan soldier orders of us from outside the carriage.

The carriage stops soon after, and the soldiers unload us, guiding us inside like sheep. If the lycan king is so terrifying as to snap thirty necks at the drop of a hat, then avoiding him has to be the best possibility of surviving. I keep my head down, trying to keep a low profile as I quietly follow the group.

We’re shepherded to a sort of dormitory within the palace where a Beta is already waiting for us. He announces that three women will be selected each night to accompany the king for the evening.

A few women puff up at this news, smoothing out the fabric of their dresses and positioning the curls of their hair just so. I merely stand there, trying to make myself as invisible as possible, praying that my name won’t be called.

I know it will be eventually, but the longer I have before I’m thrust upon the unruly king, the higher a chance I’ll find a way to escape before I’m forced into his murderous grasp.

“Marcella!” the Beta announces, and one of the women enthusiastic about meeting the king struts forward. A few women clap for her as if she’s won a price instead of having a nail hammered into her coffin.

My chest tightens in anticipation. I didn’t have enough time with my parents, enough time to memorize their faces and laughs. I didn’t have enough time to appreciate the feel of sunshine on my face or the brilliance of the moon among the stars.

“Sarah!” the Beta announces, and a sullen woman steps forward, shaking as she does, clearly understanding the full extent of her immediate future.

Two out of three names have been called. The chances that I’ll be the third are low. My time with my parents is gone, possibly forever, but maybe I’ll get one more night and one more day alive before the oppressive lycan king snaps my neck, too.

“Evelyn!”

Or maybe not.

Evelyn

My mind goes blank. Then my mother’s face flashes in my mind.

Survive, she begged, her words echoing in my skull.

I have to do something.

Maybe I can claim some incurable illness that will make the lycan king recoil at the sight of me. Maybe I can faint or make a scene before we reach him. Break a small, non-fatal rule on purpose.

Anything to mark me unsuitable for the sacrifice. Anything but this.

I must be visibly hesitating because one of the more ambitious women steps forward in a beautiful forest green dress. “I would be more than happy to volunteer if she’d like a night to gather her bearings at the palace.”

“Yes!” another well-dressed woman exclaims, this one in a bright blue dress that brings out her eyes. “Evelyn does look a little peaked. I’d be more than happy to take her place tonight.”

All eyes turn to me. And I’m not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“By all means,” I agree, immediately offering up my spot, “be my guest.”

I look to the Beta, not sure if trading places like this is even allowed with whatever system they have in place. But before he can say anything, the woman in the green dress turns to the other volunteer and says, “How very thoughtful of you to have offered yourself only after I did.”

The woman in the blue dress retorts, “I was giving someone else an opportunity to speak instead of jumping down the Beta’s throat.”

“Brown-noser!”

“Fraud!”

“Ladies!” The Beta yells to get their attention. I can’t believe they are actually fighting to meet the lycan king instead of fearing what will surely be their death. The likelihood that any of us could be his true Luna is superbly low, especially when considering that lycans are immortal.

His true Luna probably hasn’t even been more yet.

The Beta sighs in frustration. “I really don’t care.” He reaches for the nearest woman, the one in the blue dress, and tugs her along with Marcella and Sarah out of the dormitory to their doom.

Alexander

I wait for the Beta to return with a new batch of eligible women.

I remember the war even though it was centuries ago. I was born centuries ago, too.

My fated mate died in that war, and I haven’t had another Luna since.

My wolf gradually slipped out of control without the calming presence of a mate. Each time my wolf loses control, he goes on a killing spree to avenge the death of our fated mate.

I hate the slaughter. But I have absolutely no control over my wolf’s impulsive outbursts.

I’m honestly lucky I’m the lycan king. Another lycan might have been put down after losing their grip on reality, but me? It makes me more of a threat, more feared, more powerful.

I know the only way for my wolf to regain its sanity is to find another Luna. Despite searching for centuries now, I’ve found nothing.

So I spend year after year being brought unmated werewolves and lycans from across the lands, hoping that my wolf will recognize one of them, will find peace with one of them.

I groan as the approaching women’s noisy thoughts grow louder the closer they get, pushing my wolf to the brink of losing control. It has helped me immensely in ruling and conquering to be able to hear the thoughts of lower-ranking werewolves, but it only makes my wolf more agitated.

Three female werewolves arrive. After seeing so many, they all seem like walking corpses. That’s what they’ll all eventually become.

Either by my hand or the hand of time since werewolves are not immortal like me.

My wolf roils within me, the smell of these women unpleasant to him. Their thoughts don’t do them any favors either, the best option the one in the plain, brown dress who looks like she’s about to vomit up the same color. Her heart beats so quickly, her eyes flicking about the room nervously, her panicked thoughts certain she’s about to die.

My wolf likes the idea of her death. But despite the manipulative, selfish thoughts of the other two women, I don’t want to kill them. I saw enough blood shed in that one war to last me an eternity.

Yet my wolf plagues us with more death at every turn.

I look each of the three women directly in the eyes, unsurprised when I feel no mate bond snapping our eye contact into focus. Sometimes I fear that it’s been so long since I felt a mate bond that I won’t recognize it when I see it. Despite my memory blurred by time though, the one thing I do remember about the mate bond is that it was unavoidable and inescapable.

“Leave,” I order the three women. “Before my wolf kills you all.”

A woman in a bright, blue dress steps forward boldly. “Your Highness, I’m a special healer. If you would allow me the honor of staying the night with you, I assure you that I will calm your wolf.”

My wolf curls his lip in disapproval. Her thoughts betray her true, ulterior intentions and her lies.

She is just an ordinary werewolf like all the others. Most of them are scared shitless to meet me, and rightly so. But every now and again these ambitious ones worm their way out of the woodwork, purporting to be more than they are, promising me anything they think will win my favor.

They disgust me. They infuriate my wolf. They…

I loose a shaky breath as my wolf rages within me.

None of these women are my true Luna, so I turn to my Beta.

“Expel them from the palace,” I command before I completely lose control.

The Beta, recognizing the telltale signs of my unstable wolf fighting to rear his ugly head, ushers the women out urgently, disappearing behind a closed door and taking their unrelenting thoughts with them.

I’ve known the signs of losing control for a long while now. The problem is that sometimes I don’t have enough time to isolate myself before I lose consciousness.

I hurry now to a distant corner of the palace to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. I can feel my wolf growing more restless inside me, demanding to be let out, to avenge the love of my life.

I am the most powerful creature in these lands, but the one thing I fear is losing control of my own power.

I lock myself in a room far from anyone else as my wolf’s fit crescendos. I brace myself for the inevitable loss of consciousness, hoping the lock I’ve just engaged will hold against him.

Then suddenly, my wolf falls quiet.

I listen, waiting for the ire and rage I’ve become all too familiar with inside me. But my wolf grows increasingly calm, almost serene. My muscles relax at the sensation, and I realize how long it’s truly been since I felt this sense of peace within my wolf.

Exhaustion washes over me as I realize how long I’ve been fighting this war inside me, but my wolf makes it clear this is not the time to rest. The calmness in him remains, but it adjusts, like it’s refining into something clearer, something more intentional, something with direction.

Then my wolf speaks to me. It doesn’t growl or snarl or snap, it speaks to me calmly yet firmly.

All he says is, “Find her.”

Evelyn

After the Beta takes off with the three women in tow, the other women break off into groups. Some isolate themselves, others burst into tears while others rush to comfort them, and the remaining women who actually want to be here gather together as well.

While they’re all broken off and distracted with gossip, I sneak out of the dormitory.

My mother’s words echo in my mind.

Survive. Find a way to escape the Lycan King. Find a way home to us.

By the grace of the fates, I have found a way to survive the night. I will take advantage of every spare moment searching for a way out of here. Leaving tonight might not be the best option, but at least I’ll gather the information I need for when it is the right time to escape.

Then again, with so many women around here, maybe no one will notice if one of us disappears.

I avoid the guards as I explore the palace hallways, quietly making my way to the more remote parts of the palace. I mark every stairwell and window, every door that leads outside. I memorize different routes to every exit in case my chosen route becomes blocked.

I’m making my way down a long, open hallway when I hear footsteps approaching around the corner. With no stairs to disappear up or down, I slip into a room I previously marked as a library. In my haste, I scrape against the door, closing it against myself before I’m all the way through.

I stifle my own hiss to avoid giving away my location.

The footsteps do not hesitate or alter, passing by my position with no suspicion at all. I’m confident they didn’t notice me, but it was a close enough call that I decide to halt my explorations for the day.

I slip back into the dormitories, startled when the woman in the forest green dress who volunteered in my place corners me. “I’m Rebecca,” she offers by way of greeting.

“Uh, hi, Rebecca.” I debate internally the pros and cons of sharing my name in return before I remember she probably already knows mine from when the Beta called it off his list.

“Where were you just now?” she asks before I have an opportunity to formally introduce myself.

“Out for a walk,” I reply smoothly. I even furrow my brows as if I’m not sure why she would be asking me such an odd question.

Rebecca looks me over once appraisingly. I don’t note any suspicion on her face, though that is now two close calls tonight.

“You really shouldn’t wander around the palace,” she warns. “The three women who were sent to the lycan king earlier were expelled from the palace for angering the king. No one died, but if you anger the royal family, you could get expelled, too.”

I blink, hiding my shock from showing on my face. “Thanks, Rebecca,” I offer casually, then climb into one of the empty bunks to go to sleep.

It’s not long after that the lights are shut off automatically, and the few remaining women milling about find an empty bed for the night, too.

Expelled? I didn’t know expulsion was one of the punishments. I was sure the options were a swift death or a painful one.

I can’t believe how lucky those three women are. They were handed their freedom, just like that! If I had known, I would have gone with them.

Instead, I’m stuck here, trying to find a way to escape without anyone noticing.

I take a deep breath, willing myself not to dwell on past decisions that I can’t do anything about now. All I can do is my best with the information I have at the time.

And with that calming thought, I fall into a dreamless sleep.

Only to be awoken with a start by soldiers early the next morning.

“You’ve been reported for sneaking around the palace in an attempt to escape,” a soldier informs me gruffly while I’m still blinking the sleep out of my eyes.

“Escape? No,” I argue, “I was just on a walk. Stretching my legs.”

As I pull myself into a sitting position, I notice Rebecca behind them, somehow still looking as perfectly as she did yesterday, smirking in satisfaction.

“All the way near the exit to the gardens?” the soldier asks accusatorily as he lifts a piece of torn fabric – that perfectly matches my purple dress. I furrow my brows in confusion, my mind reeling, trying to figure out when—

The library. When I scraped against the door, it must have torn, and I was too distracted by whoever was approaching that I didn’t notice. I check the back of my arm where I had rubbed against the wood, and yes – there’s a missing hole perfectly matching the swatch of fabric in the soldier’s hand.

“The library where we found this is nowhere near these dormitories. Much too far to be merely ‘stretching your legs.’”

The soldier stares me down condescendingly like he has much better things to be doing than catching a lowly sacrifice in her lie.

“Come on,” he says, almost sounding bored. “Per ordinance seventy-four, you are to be whipped twenty times as a deterrent and to set an example for the other women here.”

I look around as they drag me out of the dormitory, ignoring Rebecca’s smug expression, wondering if there’s any way out of this, any way to escape my punishment. But there are three large soldiers, all gripping me tightly as they tug me roughly along to what looks like traditional execution grounds.

My stomach drops, and I realize that twenty lashes is better than losing my life altogether.

I’m shoved to my knees, the sound of a whip cracking on the stone beneath me causing me to flinch. Whoever’s holding the whip behind me chuckles at my reaction.

I hear his sharp intake of breath, the whistle of the whip through the air as he pulls it back for my first lash. I brace myself against the incoming pain, willing myself to be strong and stoic.

But the expected sting never comes.

I dare a glance over my shoulder where the man with the whip trembles and falls to his knees. I think he’s having a fit until he bows his head low, practically shouting, “Your Majesty!”

I whip my head over my other shoulder to find the king approaching me. I’ve never seen him before, but between the reaction of the executioner behind me and the crown perched on the bleach blond hair of the man before me, it must be the king.

Gently, he takes my chin and tilts my head up.

My breath shakes as I take in his handsome features. I’m so overwhelmed by his beauty that I can’t even make out which features set my heart racing.

But his beauty is not enough to distract from my vulnerable position, and I wonder if the king is here to increase my punishment. His blue eyes are impossible to read.

At that moment, my wolf rouses from her deep sleep that she fell into when Lucas rejected us, rushing to tell me, “He is our second chance – our mate.”