Trapping Quincy

Prince Caspian Romanov

Colorful strobing lights are flashing in tune with the upbeat modern music. The decor is classic and very rich in silk and velvet. Overhead, glittering chandeliers hang from the ceiling by steel chains.

Women in sparkling heels, tiny shimmering G-strings, and nothing else swing and dance on each one of them. Half-naked bodies of beautiful lycan patrons sway on the dance floor. This club is exclusively for lycans, but once in a while, you can spot a werewolf in the mix.

I’m glad that here, I’m just another lycan. Nobody knows that I’m a prince. Somewhere in here, my security detail is watching me.

They’re so good at being discreet that even I can hardly spot them.

I stare at the brooding man sitting in front of me. Commander Darius Rykov, one of my very few trusted friends. He just arrived this evening.

His face is unreadable, but I can tell that his mind is miles away or, more precisely, is where his erasthai is right now.

His erasthai, Penny, totally ignored him and left the house not ten minutes after his arrival to go to some frat party. I dragged him here after Penny left. I can see that this is the last place he wants to be.

Penny is a werewolf, and we are a pack of lycans. Lycans are different from regular werewolves. We are smaller in number compared to humans and werewolves, but we are the strongest.

We, lycans, also live for centuries. While Fae folk grow normally like humans until they hit the age of sixteen, we lycans stop aging like humans at the age of eighteen. We are the direct descendants of the Moon Goddess, so we are treated with reverence in the werewolf world.

However, we’re not given mates chosen for us by the Moon Goddess like werewolves.

We are blessed or cursed, depending on how you look at it, with erasthais. The one that our souls call for. The one that could be the end of us or the one to make us whole.

Our erasthai could be anyone, another lycan, a werewolf, a human, or a faery. We can claim them, mark them, and take them away, no matter if they’re already mated or married to another.

Of course, we’re free to mate with anyone other than our erasthai, but the bond would never be as strong as or the same as it would be with our erasthai.

Once we mark them, the werewolf, human, or faery of our choosing will gradually turn into a lycan. Penny and Darius met each other three years ago and felt the erasthai pull right away. Penny was crazy about him, but for some reason, he refused to mark her.

Darius even went as far as telling her that he was marking another woman. The idiot.

She waited for him. She tried everything to get him to accept her. My brave Beany.

Something must have happened a couple of months ago that made Penny finally stop trying. She’s out there trying to move on and forget about him.

I take another sip of my drink and realize that it’s empty, so I lift two fingers up to beckon a passing waitress over. Her smile turns seductive, and her hips sway even more when she sees us. Her black silk waitress uniform barely covers any essential parts of her body, and her eyes are a pure invitation.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” she says. “What is your poison? Just name it.” Her tone implies that she is also on the menu.

“Dirty martini, wet, shaken, straight up,” I tell her, curving my lips into a tiny smile.

Always be nice to people who handle your food and your drinks.

“And what about you, sir?” She directs her question to the stony-faced warrior.

“Whiskey, neat,” answers Darius. His tone is curt, and his face doesn’t encourage any flirting. Yup, this is the last place he wants to be right now, and I’m the devil who brought him here.

“Right. I’ll be right back, mon chérie,” she says with a lilt to her voice. If she notices his curt and unfriendly demeanor, she’s doing a good job of ignoring it.

She winks and walks away with that exaggerated sway of her hips.

She glances back over her shoulder after a few steps, and when she sees that my eyes are still on her curvy ass, her coy smile widens.

I steeple my fingers together and turn my attention back to my friend Darius. “So, why are you really here, Commander Rykov? Personal or official, my friend? Is there really a new serious threat to our safety?”

I know very well that whatever threat we’re having, my pack and our own security team are capable of handling it. Whatever brought him here, to the USA, all the way from Russia must have something to do with our conversation a week ago when I let it slip that his erasthai, Penny, is out partying with random human men.

The slip may or may not have been accidental.

It’s true. She comes home reeking of cheap booze and various human men every weekend.

I try not to interfere, but Penny, or Beany as I call her, is miserable. Even though Darius’s demeanor is unreadable, his feelings impenetrable, I can tell that the warrior in front of me is miserable as well. Before he has the chance to answer me, two women approach our table.

“Hello there, gentlemen,” purrs one of the ladies.

“Would you two fine gentlemen mind if we join you?” asks her friend. Already, one of her hands dances over Darius’s broad shoulder.

“I’d rather you not,” says my friend coldly, and I hide my smile behind my joined fingers.

I have to give it to him, though. His composure is flawless. Not a single muscle betrays how he really feels.

Only his tone indicates that he’s pissed off and wants nothing to do with any other females, which is typical with lycans who’ve met their erasthais. He’s smitten with my Beany. If only he’d stop being stupid and mark her already.

The woman looks offended and grabs her friend’s hand to drag her away. Her friend gives me a lingering look, and I give her a smile and a wink before she reluctantly retreats, back to their table.

“So, does she bring men home with her after every party?” asks Darius.

Ahh… Now we’re talking about Penny.

“No,” I tell him. I watch his jaw and shoulders relax a tiny bit. “But then again, she might spend time at their place. Who knows?” I shrug my shoulders nonchalantly.

I suddenly feel the heat of his fury. “Hey, where are you going?” I call out as he stands up suddenly. My smile grows.

I suspect that if I wasn’t one of his closest friends and also the next king of werewolves and lycans, whom he’s supposed to protect, he would have snapped my head off for being an asshole and for bringing him here.

“Out of this hellhole,” he growls, walking away.

I hope he’ll make the right decision soon. I want them both in my pack. In my mind, Beany is already ours.

I rub my face and my neck after he disappears behind the swaying crowd. What am I still doing here? We’ve been in California for close to a month now. I still haven’t seen any indication that my erasthai is here. I’d like to just get up and go, but I know my friends, especially Penny, would have my head.

Still, my lycan is restless. I normally trust his instinct. He has never steered me wrong but something doesn’t add up. Yet I can’t stay here forever.

Like it or not, very soon I think, we’re moving on. Another dart on the map, perhaps? Beany is going to kill me. If she doesn’t get to me first, I suspect Red will.

I didn’t tell my pack mates, but I’m in a time crunch.

I’ve made a deal with my mother, Queen Sophia, that I’ll take Lady Celeste as my mate and my rightful place as king if I don’t find my erasthai within the next three years.

My mother talked my father, King Alexandros, into agreeing to the Rule of Seven to find a new king if I refuse. It’s a barbaric, outdated rule.

Hell, I know what that would do to our kind. The violence could spill into the human world. I might be an asshole, but I’m an asshole that can’t let that happen.

I will not let that happen.

The same waitress appears with my drink.

“I’m back, as promised,” she says. “Oh, your friend is gone?” she asks as she places our drinks on the table beside me. “Well, too bad. Anything else I can get you, sir?”

“No, that’s all,” I tell her.

“Are you sure I can’t get you anything else?” Her voice becomes breathier in my ear, and she slinks into my lap while her hand slithers across my chest and my shoulder.

I sit back, rest my arms on the armrest of my chair, and slide my index finger across my lips. Watching her.

She presses her breasts against my chest and grinds her lower body against my crotch. Her eyes flicker up to look at me with a naughty glint. She licks her lips seductively as she grinds harder.

I’ve made up my mind. “Yeah, I’m sure.” I sit up and guide her to stand up.

I raise the glass to my lips and drain it in one gulp. Then I throw some money on the table. I think it’s time to go home. Alone.

The truth is, I’m tired of all this. Bored and restless. Different centuries, different countries. Same shit.