83: The Rebel

Quincy St. Martin

We travel in a half-phased state, meaning we’re halfway between humans and lycans.

We can smell and see more than in our human form. We have the speed and agility of lycans, but we don’t have the full claws and long sharp canines and teeth deadly enough to fight like true lycans.

We follow their faint scent through the royal property into the woods and down the valley. The moonlight is shining and reflecting off the white snow.

It makes everything seem as bright as daytime.

“Stop!” says Serena.

Her voice is guttural. Her jet-black eyes scan the area. She knows the area better than any of us, so we follow her lead.

“We’re getting close to a werewolf’s pack territory.”

“Look,” says Genesis, pointing toward a little house, barely visible through the gaps of the trees.

We’re on a little mound of a hill, looking down at the valley below. The house is still about 150 yards away, but I think it’s the beginning of the pack turf. I can already smell the various unfamiliar scents carried by the wind.

“Do you smell that?” I ask them, sniffing the air. The three of them quickly lift their noses and sniff.

“Blood!” snarls Penny fiercely. Blood, fire, and death.

The four of us simultaneously jump up and sprint forward while phasing fully into our lycans.

My feet feel like they barely touch the ground as I charge forward with the girls behind me.

We follow our noses and ears deeper into the pack’s territory, where the smell becomes stronger and the sounds of screaming and fierce growling pierce the air.

I barely notice small, charming, cabin-like houses dotting the territory. Several are burning.

My feet never pause at the sight of blood-soiled snow or the dead bodies littering the ground.

My eyes hone in on my mate from afar. Two large unfamiliar male lycans are charging at him at the same time.

He manages to evade them, but crimson red blooms across his chest and arm. His shirt is tattered. The other two lycans aren’t faring much better.

They’re actually looking much worse, but I’m not going to sit on the sideline just watching.

“We’re going to end you tonight, crown prince,” grunts the one who landed his claws on him.

Fire sears down my spine and spreads through my veins at his words. No one hurts my mate.

They circle each other, and I crawl forward, waiting. My skin tingles, and my mouth waters. Come on, turn your back to me and we’ll play.

I can feel my mate’s awareness of my presence.

He snarls with dark menace like a greeting and changes his stance to maneuver his opponent to present his back to me like a gift.

So I pounce.

I wrap my legs tightly around his enemy’s middle. I grab the male lycan’s hair and pull his head back.

The sound of his roar fills my ear as I sink my teeth and canines into his throat. He staggers violently, trying to dislodge me from his back, but my legs are like a vise.

Arghh!!! Pain sears through my leg when he buries his sharp nails into my thigh.

He pulls at my leg, and his claws dig deeper into my skin. I sink my teeth deeper into his throat. The tendons and cartilage crunch between my jaws.

The metallic, salty taste of blood fills my mouth. Gurgling sounds erupt from his mouth and chest. His pulse throbs on my tongue.

My leg feels like it’s on fire, but I will not let go.

He staggers forward and falls to his knees, taking me with him.

My mate lets out a spine-chilling roar, and I look up and release the male from my hold. Playtime is over. Blood gushes from his throat and my mouth. My mate’s black eyes flash threateningly. His canines and sharp teeth are gleaming in the silvery moonlight.

He growls as he gives the lycan a quick swipe across the abdomen and chest. The male howls. Blood splatters everywhere.

I struggle to my feet and watch as my mate works on him. How vicious my mate is. How utterly beautiful. The other male who was fighting him before is already lying on the ground. Headless and spineless.

***

The group of us sit near the frozen riverbank in our human form, grim and resigned.

We’re waiting for Constantine and Genesis, who went after one of the rebel lycans who was going to destroy a neighboring pack. One of his stupid friends gloated and revealed to Constantine of his plan not long after we girls arrived.

Shirtless, Lazarus is sitting on a chopped tree stump with Serena cleaning his wound.

I can see the bloody claw marks across his chest, much deeper than the ones on Caspian’s. I watch as Darius works on popping Lazarus’s shoulder back in place.

His jaw is clenched tight, but he doesn’t utter a sound. Darius himself has claw marks all over his body. Penny is sitting cross-legged on the frozen ground. She’s holding a stick, poking and jabbing it angrily at a small fire we have built.

She looks eerie in the glow of the fire with the ferocious expression on her face and blood splatter all over her. A cold wind blows the stench of blood and death to us as if we need a reminder of what just happened here tonight.

Caspian brings me closer to him. I sit between his legs on the ground across from Penny in front of the fire. I try not to press up against his wounded chest.

The puncture wounds on my thigh have stopped bleeding, but the searing pain is still there. I feel it to the bone. It burns, and it throbs. I keep my mouth shut, not letting my mate know because I’ve no right to whine. So many people lost their lives and loved ones tonight.

“How did this happen?” I ask. My voice sounds as lost and dazed as I feel. “I thought you were meeting Chamberlain?”

“He didn’t show up,” answers Caspian.

“So we followed his scent and found him,” Darius adds, shaking his head. His jaw tightens as he grits his teeth. “Or what was left of him.”

“That’s when we heard them…and smelled blood,” Caspian says. “Lycan rebels were destroying the village. This was a very peaceful werewolf pack. They’ve always been under the protection of the palace.” He rakes his fingers through his hair and groans. It’s very obvious how upset he is.

“There’s never been an attack this close to the palace before,” growls Lazarus.

Serena lays a gentle hand on the side of his face, calming him down.

A few minutes later, we hear their footsteps. Genesis and Constantine look weary. Their clothes are torn and bloody like ours, but thankfully, there is no serious injury on either of them that I can see.

“Are there any survivors?” Penny asks them.

“Yeah, we got there just in time,” replies Constantine. “But the same cannot be said about this pack. We met what’s left of them on the way here. The alpha is gone.”

His shoulders are hunched forward as he joins us by the fire. Genesis sits next to him.

“One lycan would have been enough to wipe out this whole village in just an hour, but twelve?” He shakes his head.

“We’re lucky to have been here when they were just starting,” says Genesis, rubbing his shoulders. “It’s obvious they were planning to wipe out as many packs as possible tonight.”

“We should go and guard the other packs,” says Constantine. “They might decide to send more, to finish what they started.”

“No, we’re all injured,” says Caspian, placing his hand gently on the side of my injured thigh. “We will send guards out to all the other packs, and we need to get our men to clean up here.”

“We have to let the king know,” says Lazarus.

“Yes, there’s a lot to do here, and we have to let my father know,” agrees Caspian, pained.

“Do you think Chamberlain knew who was behind this? Was that why he wanted to talk to you? Do you think that’s why he was killed?” I ask them.

“I’ve no doubt that’s what he wanted to talk to us about,” answers Darius. “Chamberlain always had his ear to the ground and was very loyal. We need to find the people behind this.”

“For now, we will bring his body back and have a proper burial for him. The other victims will have their burials in their territory where their ancestors lie, as it should be,” says Caspian.