Chapter 41

LLOYD

After Misty left, I felt desolate, like I was missing an arm, but I suspected it was my heart.

The nights had cooled, bringing a welcome reprieve from the heat of the day, but I hadn’t been able to sleep and spent the night stroking and keeping her warm.

She marked me with a fierceness that went beyond necessity, but I understood her urgency. Discovering Lou-Anne’s existence had ignited a primal need to assert her claim on me.

The intensity of the mate bond left me in awe, a force so powerful it coursed through my veins, leaving me both invigorated and revitalized even though I hadn’t slept.

I knew they had a long drive ahead of them, and she wasn’t in any danger for now.

I sat against the Monolith, crossed my ankles, and sniffed my T-shirt, the smell of her arousal and juices still potent. I had complete trust in Misty—if anyone could break this damn curse, it was her.

Closing my eyes, I drifted into a dream that was hazy at first, but soon, I found myself standing in a clearing deep within a forest.

The trees surrounding me were ancient, their twisted branches reaching out like gnarled fingers, the leaves rustling with secrets carried on the wind. The air was thick with the scent of pines and earth, grounding me in this surreal place.

I turned slowly, scanning the clearing, my brow furrowing with unease. The shadows between the trees seemed to pulse and shift, and I caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of my eye.

I squinted, trying to get a better look, but the mist clung to the figure, obscuring its features. Yet, there were moments when the fog parted just enough for me to catch a glimpse of the robe.

It was red, the deep crimson of freshly spilled blood, and edged with intricate golden thread that gleamed even in the dim light filtering through the canopy.

Recognition struck me like a thunderclap. There was only one wolf I knew who wore a cloak like that, a symbol as much as it was a garment.

A low growl rumbled in my chest, and I felt a familiar surge of power ripple through my body. My claws extended, sharp and ready, my muscles coiled like a spring as I prepared to give chase.

I took off, my movements swift and silent, weaving through the trees with the ease of a predator on the hunt. But no matter how fast I ran or how close I thought I was, the figure always seemed just out of reach.

“Lloyd,” he called from a completely different direction, and I swung around, baring my fangs.

“Lloyd, wake up! You’re dreaming,” someone shouted.

I jerked awake, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Blinking away the remnants of the nightmare, I saw an older wolf standing just beyond the circle’s boundary, a cooler in one hand and a foldable chair in the other.

He was unfamiliar to me, but the calm, deliberate way he carried himself made it clear that he was here to feed me.

“Sorry to disturb you,” he said, his voice gruff yet warm. “You seemed to be having a nightmare. You were growing your claws, so I was a bit hesitant to step into the circle.”

I blinked, still disoriented. “I was? Apologies. Er, I don’t think we’ve met, but I can smell Chelsea on you.”

A broad smile spread across his weathered face. “My granddaughter. I’m David,” he introduced himself with a nod.

I stood up, brushing off the remnants of sleep, and met him halfway to take the cooler from him. “Thank you, much appreciated.”

The cooler Misty had brought yesterday was still under the shade thingy, providing a makeshift seat. I placed David’s cooler beside it as he unfolded his chair, settling into it with a satisfied sigh.

Opening the cooler, I found some beers and homemade burgers neatly packed inside.

David leaned back in his chair, a twinkle in his eye. “Feel like a chat?” he asked, his tone casual but with an underlying curiosity.

“Sure,” I replied, furrowing my brow as I remembered Misty mentioning him. I glanced up at the sun, noting its high position in the sky—around lunchtime, most likely. “Can I offer you a beer?”

His smile widened, and he accepted the offer with a nod. “You eat, and I’ll talk,” David encouraged.

I nodded, sat on the cooler, unwrapped a burger, and took a large bite, savoring the rich, homemade flavor. As I chewed, I couldn’t help but wonder who had prepared it.

My thoughts were interrupted as David pulled out a well-worn pipe from his pocket. With practiced hands, he packed the bowl with tobacco and struck a match, igniting the blend.

I watched, intrigued, as he took a slow, deliberate drag, exhaling a cloud of smoke that carried the sweet scent of cherries into the warm air.

David leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtful as he swirled the pipe.

“I’m a bit of a history buff,” he began, enthusiasm coloring his tone. “Specifically, werewolf history. I’ve been collecting and studying everything I could find on the subject for years.

“But after the events of the past few weeks, I’ve come to a harsh realization: my ~Werewolves Through the Ages~ collection is inaccurate, misleading…absolute garbage, really.”

He chuckled softly, though his tone held a note of frustration. “So you can imagine my excitement, meeting someone born in 1754. It’s an opportunity of a lifetime to speak with someone who lived through so much of our history. I’d love to chronicle whatever you can share with me—add a much-needed update to the record, so to speak.”

I paused, still holding the burger mid-bite, unsure how to respond. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to help, but my memories were fragmented—bound by the curse that had kept me dormant for so long. I could only offer glimpses of the past.

“I…I appreciate your interest, David,” I began slowly, carefully choosing my words. “But my memories are fragmented. I can share what I recall from before I was bound and during my awakenings. But it won’t be a complete history—just fragments, really.”

David nodded, his expression thoughtful as he took another drag from his pipe. “Fragments are better than nothing,” he said, his voice steady. “Even a piece of the truth is more valuable than an entire volume of falsehoods. Whatever you can share, I’m eager to listen.”

I took another bite of the burger, chewing thoughtfully as I sifted through the memories, but before I could speak, he suddenly jumped to his feet urgently, his eyes clouding over.

“Warriors, fuck. There aren’t enough left to defend the pack…,” he muttered, his voice tense with alarm. Without another word, he shifted.

Reacting on instinct, I bolted after him. “Lead them here!” I shouted, hoping to regroup the defenders.

~“Lloyd,”~ Vetus’s voice cut through the chaos in my mind. ~“You’ve breached the circle!”~

I skidded to a halt, my heart pounding. Looking down, I saw it—I was standing outside the circle, something that should have been impossible.

How had I crossed it without even realizing it?

I shifted mid-stride, my body elongating into my wolf form as I tore after David, anxiety gnawing at the edges of my mind. I couldn’t shake the fear that Vetus’s focus might shift back to hunting Misty, but his voice allayed my fears.

~“Something’s happened.”~ His voice echoed in my mind, tinged with surprise. ~“I don’t feel the alpha command anymore…”~

Relief washed over me, but it was short-lived as the scent of the palace warriors hit me like a wave. Our focus sharpened, instincts kicking in with brutal clarity.

I surged ahead, overtaking David’s wolf with a burst of speed, and barreled into the fray, my powerful form crashing into two wolves and sending them sprawling.

The scene was chaotic. The warriors left to protect the pack were horrifically outnumbered, struggling against a tide of enemies.

Yet, amidst the chaos, I noticed something that made my blood run cold—a few she-wolves had joined the fight, their fur matted with sweat and blood.

One of them was a fawn-colored wolf—Chelsea. The other, unmistakably, was Misty’s mother, her fur reddish brown.

A growl rumbled deep in my chest, growing into a ferocious roar that reverberated around the pack house. I let my dominance flare, pushing it outward like a tangible force.

The palace wolves surrounding the she-wolves faltered, their eyes widening in fear as I charged through them with relentless fury.

I fought with a savagery I had never known, a primal force that surged through my veins and amplified every strike, every bite. The wolves that dared to challenge me fell beneath my claws, their snarls silenced by the ferocity of my assault.

My sole focus was protecting those who mattered—ensuring that no palace wolves could lay a paw on Chelsea or Misty’s mother.

Amid the blood and chaos, I realized that something had changed within me, a shift that made me more dangerous than I had ever been.

This was more than just defending the pack; it was about claiming my place, asserting the dominance that was rightfully mine. The thought scared me, and I pushed it away as I pinned the last standing wolf to the ground and shifted.

“How many more?” I growled, my voice low and dangerous as I pressed my foot harder against his neck, pinning him to the ground. His eyes widened in terror, and I could feel the rapid pulse of his fear beneath my boot.

He shifted, his body trembling as he looked up at me, his voice strained and barely audible. “Just us,” he croaked, desperation lacing every word.

“You better not be lying,” I warned, my tone edged with menace. The weight of my dominance bore down on him, and I could see the panic rising in his eyes.

“No, sire,” he gasped out. Around us, the air seemed to still, and I heard the collective intake of breath from those who had witnessed the exchange. The title he’d used—~sire~—hung in the air like a death sentence.

My mind raced. ~Why the hell did he call me that?~ The question reverberated in my thoughts, but before I could demand an explanation, he spoke again, his voice cracking under the pressure.

“Please, sire, don’t kill me. I pledge myself to you,” he pleaded, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and hope. His body quivered as he tried to bare his neck, submissively flattening himself against the ground, utterly at my mercy.

The surrounding wolves remained silent, watching with shock and uncertainty. I could feel their gazes boring into me, waiting to see what I would do next.

The power dynamic had shifted, and I knew that whatever choice I made would have far-reaching consequences.

I stared at the wolf beneath me, my thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and anger. His fear was real, his submission genuine, but the implications of his pledge sent ripples of unease through me. ~Sire.~

The word echoed in my mind, carrying with it the weight of responsibility, of power I hadn’t sought but now couldn’t ignore.

For a brief moment, I hesitated, caught between the urge to end him and the knowledge that this moment could define me in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

The battlefield was no place for mercy, but something deeper urged me to consider the significance of his pledge.

~“You cannot fight it,”~ Vetus said. ~“Your father would have won the challenge, and you would have been the natural choice after him. That is why I was paired with you. My dominance outranks everyone.”~

~“And you couldn’t tell me this before?”~

~“I only realized now. The allegiance spell kept our dominance in check. And Lloyd, I don’t think we are invulnerable anymore.”~