The Lycan King's Healer

ere cold, but ou

that surfaced. As the glorious, handsome third lycan prince grasped me so tig

g into warm pools as they met mine. I was not expecting our wedding union to be warm—my only predictions contained emotionless, dead eyed gla

wolf; he had every right to accept the ma

t strangers, we we

r. There was a form of desperation, of longing in the prince’s touch. Maybe he was thinking of his former lo

which I knew I never would be. I mimicked his desperation, knowing I was an average female werewolf, not nobl

her best to be good en

s sharp jawline, and his strong nose made him look like a god. I knew he owed me nothi

ed so…into

forehead showed he was putting in just as much effort as me. The animals ins

or each other that our human forms never did when they met. As if our love ran eve

where, despite any prophecy, despite an order from the Moon Goddess herself, the nob

o the wolves inside of us tha

isses and sensual grazes of touch

heavy and thick in his voice, sign

in my lower belly as well. And in that moment, I imagined the entirety of our s

ody’s new soreness. Pathetically, I invited the ache, for it gave me a sweet reminder of our union

d my eyes, I found even more glorious reminders; his kisses sprinkled across my naked

as cold and empty, as if no

e. “Aldrich?” I called hoarsely,

y back, violently extinguishing any remaining warm glow. My body went cold a

m, all the way down the grand stair

oze. I didn’t have to w

y new hu

rdered the guards with a growl, “I

own the stairs, I discovered Aldrich facing his

her naked body, a body I never undres

or, my legs quivering from th

th that I sleepily smiled at. A smile did not c

oser with Aldrich, “I hear your concern, but it’s in the prop

and outrage beneath his powerful scowl, “who was supposed to be my c

ly that was not enough for the disgusting mongrel. R

second thought reminded me there was nowhere to run. Prince Aldrich was drugged and he thought I did it. How could I have don

in my chest. This was all a

ing over myself, my naked body bruising upon the wood floor. Chaos erupted around

perately, my knees bruised, face certainly

already dismissing my cries as he turned

e. I cried, begging for them to listen to me as metal cuffs closed around my wrists, vigorousl

d not h

*

rom royalty to prisoner

make a pale, thin spotlight on the dirty stone floor. Despair and dust swallowed me, and as time slowly and painfu

ly bringing one scarce meal a d

ng or laying on the floor, silently making friends with bugs and the occasiona

up, retching bile onto the dirty cottage floor. The retching happened every day for mon

tions of bread crust and someone’s leftover apple core, I w

broken word through my dry

oat, breaking my gaze as he

o explain. I kne

. By then, I had three discoveries, three more pieces of

he night. Second, Emily is behind my death. And

y belly is going