Lost Lycan's Mate Book 2

Autor:in

A. K. Glandt

Gelesen

1,0M

Kapitel

Autor:in

A. K. Glandt

Gelesen

1,0M

Kapitel

Zweite Chancen Drama Werwölfe & Gestaltwandler Wahrer Gefährte Lykaner Schicksalsgefährten Übernatürlich & Fantasy Alpha-Männchen Starke Frauen Sauber

In the bustling city of the Old Kingdom, Cleo, a skilled assassin with a mysterious past, navigates a world of danger and deception. Her life takes a dramatic turn when her best friend, Terrin, pleads with her to confront her unresolved feelings for Hakota, a powerful lycan who once betrayed her. As Cleo delves deeper into her past and the ongoing war between lycans and Hunters, she must decide whether to seek vengeance or find a path to redemption. With secrets unraveling and alliances shifting, Cleo's journey is fraught with peril and unexpected revelations.

Plea of a Friend

Book Two: Out of the Light

CLEO

Waking up was always the hardest part of the day for me. Not because I was lazy or because I was not a morning person or because I had a job to get to. It was because opening my eyes forced me back into reality.

Sleep had become a refuge for me, a way to live in an alternate reality. If I did not dream, I probably would have become insane a long time ago.

Many times I had contemplated finishing what Hakota had started. I had held the blade at the ready to slit my throat and just let it all go, but I never did it. I owed the lycans, and the only way I could repay them was by living.

I had accepted the bond with Hakota. I never broke it off, and I entered my heat four times a year so that they could all finally get what they wanted.

Cleo had died that day in the courtyard—both literally and figuratively—the day I had last seen Hakota. My heart had stopped beating.

I had technically died, but Coda had refused to let me go in peace. He had found a knife that had my mate’s blood on it and, forcing my mouth open, had cleaned the blade on my tongue.

But it wasn’t the same Cleo who’d come back to life. Something inside me had changed, knowing that my mate hated me so much he had killed me. I became this empty shell, unable to feel anything.

I had tried fighting, purposely provoking people to hit me, but even that had given me no satisfaction. I could feel nothing, not even when I felt my bones break or watched my blood trickle down my skin.

So I had stopped.

I had spent a long time searching for a way to feel something, but the only thing I found and felt was self-loathing. This deep, unending well of hate that festered within me.

After nearly driving myself insane, I had just accepted that I would never feel anything again.

I changed my name to Rala, which meant “unfeeling” in the old language, and moved on with my new life. I didn’t try to resurrect Cleo; I let her be. I stayed in the Old Kingdom because the Forest Kingdom brought back too many memories.

I slid out of bed, untangling myself from the sheets and leaving him still sleeping. As always, I dressed myself, made breakfast, and left for work before he woke up.

Stepping out of the townhouse and into the street, I walked past the stone houses crammed wall to wall up and down the many streets. Here in the Old Kingdom everything was city; there were no forests around for miles.

For some reason, the humans loved it here, bustling around in a mindless daze, going to work, and trying to climb their way through the ranks to reach greater heights, create more wealth.

Although my living arrangements didn’t show it, I was quite wealthy. My job paid well, and I was never in limited supply of customers.

Here in the Old Kingdom, people didn’t want to get their hands dirty. They paid for someone to take care of their problems.

It had been strange to me at first, having spent most of my life in the first kingdom where killing someone to settle a problem was a normal part of life.

After adjusting to a completely different lifestyle and set of ideals, I learned how I could thrive. I did what I did best and killed people.

A Hunter was the best kind of assassin. With our venomous bites and scratches and quick reflexes, we were in much higher demand than werewolf assassins—who didn’t understand the word discreet.

Arriving at the small studio complex where my office was, I dug out my keys.

Berma, an elderly woman who rented the space below me, was already setting up. She owned a famous bakery and was known for her berry pastries. I did not enjoy sweet things, but I did enjoy the aromas that wafted up from her store.

I murmured a hello at her jovial greeting, and made my way up the stairs to where an ebony door blocked the entrance to my office.

I unlocked the four locks and swung the door open to reveal a practically empty room—save for a desk with a large chair behind it, and another chair across from it. A white bearskin rug served as a wonderful contrast to the black furniture and wooden flooring.

I took a seat in my chair, kicking up my feet on the desk. Pulling open my drawer, I rummaged through the files of assassination requests. Many of them were quite boring, and I had no desire to do boring things, so they went back in my desk for a rainy day.

I preferred walk-ins. Looking into the eyes of my customers always made it more enjoyable for me. I liked seeing them squirm or put on a façade of bravado and confidence in front of me. Some even had the nerve to talk to me like I was beneath them.

The door opened, letting in the aroma of freshly baked bread. I didn’t even look up as the werewolf walked in, dropping a brown paper bag on my desk and reclining back in the only other chair.

“If you break my chair again, I’ll make you pay for it this time,” I drawled before snapping a folder shut and dropping it into the drawer.

I gave him a pointed look before pulling open the brown bag to see what he had brought me. The strong scent of spiced meat filled my nostrils as I inhaled.

“You found elk?” I asked, raising a brow at the grinning werewolf.

“Only the best for you,” he sang, letting the front two legs of the chair hit the ground as he leaned forward. “And of course I expect you to share.”

I closed the bag and placed it at my feet. “I’m not your mommy, Terrin. It’s not my job to feed you.”

The scrawny werewolf smirked. “No, but you are my best friend, and best friends share.”

I rolled my eyes and went back to reading another file. “Any good information?” I asked him.

After leaving the Old Kingdom, I had gone back to the territories in the hope of finding something that might make me feel again. I had found Terrin—more like he had found me—as I had stood atop a waterfall, ready to make the plunge and see if I’d survive.

I had told him everything that had happened: how my father had set me up, how I had killed him, and how Hakota had tried to kill me.

Terrin had followed me on my quest, staying with me through all the shit I put him through. When I started my business after returning to the Old Kingdom, Terrin became a spy, laundering information he was paid to find out.

He of course told me everything he learned and always brought me lunch.

“More squabbling and threats between the upper class. Nothing of use, not to us anyway.” I glanced up at him as he played with the paperweight on my desk.

I sighed and shut the folder, steepling my fingers together. “You were otherwise occupied last night, weren’t you?”

Terrin snorted. “No,” he muttered.

“Your eye is doing that thing where it twitches,” I informed him. “You only do that when you’re thinking about a certain lycan.”

Over the course of two years, Syn had tracked Terrin down and had made numerous efforts to contact him. When he’d finally gotten the hint that Terrin wanted nothing to do with him, he had started being less nice and understanding.

“All right! Syn showed up last night, okay?” He crossed his arms grumpily.

“And… ?” I waited for him to give me the details.

“He just spouted more bullshit! He yelled at me for sleeping with that female.” He tossed his hands in the air. “How did he even find out about her? Do I have a sign that says ‘I slept with someone’ stapled to my forehead?”

“You do this little skip thing and have this self-satisfied smirk after,” I admitted.

My friend tossed his head back and groaned. “For the love of Lune, why can’t he just leave me alone?”

“Well, you are his mate,” I reminded him of the obvious.

He covered his face with his hands. “Why? That can’t be right; there has to be a mistake. I don’t like guys! I love girls! I like everything about them. I enjoy being a male, and I don’t think Syn is the one who would be bottoming—”

“It’s about more than just sex, Terrin,” I scolded him. Syn was still important to me, and I felt for him. I knew what it felt like to be unwanted by your mate.

“And it’s not about you being gay or straight either. Love isn’t decided by your attraction to a certain gender. It’s about your feelings toward a person.”

“Easy for you to say,” Terrin grumbled.

“Terrin,” I said in my warning tone.

“I don’t get it,” Terrin exploded. “How could you still care about them? Hakota left you there to die! They all turned their backs on you. Why do you care about their happiness when they obviously don’t give a shit about yours?”

His eyes were on my neck, where a mess of scars littered the skin. My hand subconsciously went there to cover it. Terrin looked away immediately, guilt written all over his face. “Sorry.”

I sighed and let my hand drop. “I want you to be happy, Terrin. Your current lifestyle is unfulfilling. You don’t have any family.”

“I have you,” Terrin immediately objected.

I gave him a pointed look. “Exactly. You have me. That is nothing to be proud of.”

“Well, I am proud of you, Cleo.” I flinched at the name but said nothing. He stood up and started pacing the room. “You’ve been through a hell of a lot and you’re still living, but don’t talk to me about an unfulfilling life. You think running from Hakota and just surviving one day at a time is living?”

He turned to me, running one hand through his hair and placing the other on his hip. The once scrawny boy had changed a lot in these two years.

He’d grown up as I had; I could really see it now. He was packing on muscle, and he fit in his body better, no longer lanky and wiry. In fact, he looked older than he was, and perhaps, part of that was my fault.

He worried about me too much, worried about the lycans—or anyone, for that matter—finding out I was alive and locating me.

“The alpha of lycans is destroying the world looking for your body, and I’m the one stuck covering your ass because you refuse to leave the damn Old Kingdom where they live.”

He slammed his palms on my desk, leaning in so we were nose to nose.

“You’re wanted by both sides in this stupid war. Your life is in danger every second of every day, and you just sit here in this damn office, taking payments to kill people.”

I stayed quiet as I let Terrin vent. It was good for him to get this out. Maybe then he could relax a little.

“Better yet, you’re sleeping with that stupid werewolf who must be one hell of an understanding guy to have stayed with you for this long and be okay with the fact that you don’t let him mark you, instead suffering through your damn heat for another male’s sake.”

All was quiet when he finished saying his piece. I took a second to absorb everything he’d said. “What do you want me to say?” I asked him.

Terrin exhaled a shaky breath. “I want you to say that you’re happy. I want you to be able to smile and laugh again.” Terrin’s tone had taken on a pleading note.

“It’s been almost two years, Cleo. Either face him or forget him.”