Chapter 6-1
Simone
My mouth went dry as I stared at him, and I couldn’t tell if it was from fear or whatever the hell else
was happening to my body right now.
He scowled and made an annoyed noise, turning away from me to walk deeper into the cave. He
dug around behind a rock and pulled out a worn backpack, extracting clothes that looked way too
warm for July. Full black sleeves, black pants, gloves, and an actual freaking sword that he
strapped to his back.
“Do you always dress for a blizzard in July?” I asked, but he ignored me completely.
He tossed a bundle at my feet, folded clothes that smelled faintly of him. Of danger and wildness and this intoxicating scent that made my wolf perk up. The fabric was soft but worn, clearly expensive once upon a time but now faded from years of use.
“Stay,” my wolf insisted in my head, and I was getting really tired of her one-word vocabulary tonight. Usually she was chatty as hell, always offering her opinions on everything from what to eat for breakfast to which pack members were being idiots. Now all I got was “stay” on repeat.
I shifted behind a rock because even if I was a wolf, I still had some damn modesty. The clothes were way too big for me. The shirt hung past my thighs and the pants had to be rolled up several times, but they were clean and warm. When I emerged, he’d already made a fire and was busy fetching hidden supplies from dark corners only he knew about.
“Are you here to kill me?” I asked, settling cross-legged on the cave floor.
He grunted without looking up from whatever he was doing.
“The prince sent you?”
He snorted at that one, which was interesting.
“Do you even know who I am?”
Another grunt.
Real conversationalist, this guy. I was starting to wonder if he’d forgotten how to use actual words during his time in the woods.
“Let me guess,” I said, irritation creeping into my voice. “You’re one of those strong, silent types who thinks grunting counts as communication. Well, newsflash, caveman, some of us prefer
actual sentences.”
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Chapter 6-1
That got me a glare, but still no words.
Claim
When he finally turned around to settle some cans in front of the fire, the flames allowed me to see his features clearly for the first time. My breath caught in my throat.
He looked familiar. Too familiar. The bone structure was the same as Kellan’s, but older, harder, infinitely more dangerous. Unruly long dark hair that looked in desperate need of a trim, eyes that shifted between green and that eerie red when his wolf stirred, and a jaw that could cut glass. Everything about him screamed royalty, from his posture to the way he moved with predatory
grace.
But there was pain there too, etched into every line of his face. He wasn’t just some hermit who’d chosen to live in the woods, no. He looked like a man running from demons.
“What’s your name?” I asked carefully, my suspicions growing stronger by the second.
He made sure to tie his hair up in a man bun and take his sweet time before answering, his voice
rough from disuse. “Kane.”
The pieces clicked into place so fast it made me dizzy. This beast, this gorgeous man that reeked
of power…
He was the missing lycan king. My ex-fiancé’s father.
Holy shit.
“Find him,” I remembered Mal saying as he’d directed me toward the woods, his face tight with
desperation. “He needs to come back.”
Was he talking about the king? Had Mal known where Kane was this whole time?
My mind raced back to what Kenzi, Irene, and I had discovered during our first week in the
kingdom. We’d gone to three different bars in disguise, trying to gather intel on the rulers and their weaknesses. That’s how we’d learned that Kellan was only the prince and acting ruler, not the actual king.
The first bar had been a dingy tavern near the castle where off-duty guards liked to drink. I’d bought a round for a table of soldiers and listened to them complain about their assignments.
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