Page 3 of Prey of the Lycan Queen (Unwanted #2)

Chapter Three

As I make my way down the path, vivid images flash through my mind, memories bestowed upon me from every high priestess that came before me. My mother’s memories are the most painful, and I can feel her sorrow deep in my soul like a live wire, fueling the storm raging inside me.

My mother’s death was senseless and cruel...

King Theron took her kingdom and her mate, but that was not enough for him. He wanted everything. His vengeance had no end until he eradicated every memory of her. All because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.

The most difficult part of tonight wasn’t the pain of being burned alive, it was seeing and feeling my mother’s betrayal. Her sister betrayed her because my mother was an oracle, a high priestess, a woman with power unlike most. She was born powerful, not made powerful.

Jealousy and greed are two of the most disgusting traits that cause so much injustice. It drives people insane until humanity is lost.

I have memories of my mother warning Shelley about her relationship with Theron. She saw the king’s intentions in a vision, and she knew Theron was going to kill Shelley when he was finished with her, but Shelley wouldn’t listen. She was arrogant and turned her back on their coven.

To change the course of her vision, my mother told the queen about Theron’s infidelity. She loved her sister so much that she condemned herself and her kingdom to change Shelley’s future.

With word of his shame echoing through the castle halls, my mother became his prime target, but like the small man he is, he pitted his sons against each other to exact revenge. Whoever killed her got the High Kingdom—a prize that his three sons longed for above all else.

So much death, all for nothing.

The moonlight bathes the path in a silvery glow, casting eerie shadows around me as my feet take me further away from the three kings.

As I leave the square, Kelly calls out softly, “Zirah, wait.” Her once-naked body is now shrouded with a dark, hooded robe, and as she approaches, she pulls the hood from her head.

I realize I didn’t even stop to thank her or the coven. “I’m sorry, Kelly. I just need to get away from them,” I say, casting a nervous glance back at the kings, who are still on their knees in submission.

Kelly stops before me, and her kind eyes fill with concern.

She slowly reaches out and brushes a hand down my arm, and her touch is warm and comforting amid the chaos of my thoughts.

“Zirah,” she says softly. Then all at once, she pulls me into an embrace.

“Don’t worry about them right now, but come by my store tomorrow, okay? ” she says, pulling away.

I nod hesitantly. “Did you know who I was all along?”

Kelly smiles sadly and nods. “Yes, but it was too risky for me to say anything. I knew from the moment you stepped into the store.”

“How?” I ask.

“We can sense power, and yours is out of this world. Oh, and the fact that choker didn’t burn you,” she says, straightening it, and I gasp, tracing my fingers over the leather.

She reaches around my neck to unclip it.

“Power can be consumed, but it never dies. Look at the back,” she tells me, and I turn the choker over.

Runes are carved into the thick leather, the same ones that run from my neck to my pelvis, and then a rune I’ve never seen before sits dead center, but unlike the others, this one is carved into the back of the giant stone.

“I don’t recognize this one,” I tell her. It looks like a crescent moon that has been turned into a bow with an arrow crossing through it.

“That’s because it is not a rune but our coven’s emblem.

It is the symbol of Goddess Diana, who is the goddess of chastity, fertility, the moon, and also justice.

She was often linked to Hecate, the Greek goddess of witchcraft and the underworld.

She is also your ancestor. You’re a high priestess like Litha and like your ancestor, Goddess Diana.

” Gnash whines at my feet, and I glance down at him.

“I’ll let you go, but come see me tomorrow, and I can explain more.

For now, rest,” Kelly says before walking off.

As she leaves, I spot King Theron walking up the path toward her. He pauses nervously. I can’t help but smirk as Kelly lurches to the side and shouts, “Boo!” King Theron jumps, trips over his robe, and lands on his backside, and Kelly saunters off, cackling to herself.

My amusement is short-lived when I notice the kings chasing after me. I hastily turn and make my way back to the kingdom, ignoring their calls, but it doesn’t take them long to catch up.

Regan grabs my arm, but I shove him off. “You don’t get to touch me! Not after what you all did!” I snarl at him.

“We tried to save you, Zirah,” he argues, looking hurt.

“You did. You’re right. But I wouldn’t need saving if you had saved my mother to begin with!” I retort, anger flaring inside me.

Regan tries to touch me again, but I take a step back, and my wolves growl menacingly, forcing the kings to back up.

“Zirah!” Lyon calls, his voice full of desperation.

I glare at him, my eyes brimming with tears. “What now, Lyon? You want me now that you see I’m your mate? Now that you know I’m the answer to breaking the curse?”

He looks away guiltily. “That’s not true,” he whispers.

“What was that? Because you had no issues leaving me with Zeke!” I growl at him, turning my glare on Zeke. “And what have you got to say for yourself?” I snarl at Zeke.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

“That’s it?” I ask.

“No, that is not it, Zirah. We fucked up, and you can rub that in our faces all you want, but you are our mate!”

“If I choose for you to be mine!” I scream. “The tables have turned, Zeke, and after what you’ve done, there is no way I’d choose any of you!”

“Z—”

“Don’t call me that, Regan.”

“You wouldn’t choose me? You said you would once.”

“Because you were the lesser of three evils!” I cry.

“You’re lying. Don’t give me that shit, Z. I know you love me,” Regan growls, stepping toward me. Hunter growls, and he backs up.

“Hunter!” Zeke snarls.

“He doesn’t answer to you anymore, and you’re about to learn that I no longer answer to you either.” Zeke looks away and nods once.

“Zirah, please...At least give us another chance. We can fix this. Make it up to you,” Lyon pleads. Does this fucker not realize I just burned for him?

I scoff, shaking my head. “No, you just all need to back off. I’ve lost everything because of you!” I scream, and lightning cracks across the sky. “I’ve lost everything,” I repeat, my voice breaking.

“You haven’t lost me,” Regan murmurs, and I look at him.

“No...but you’ve lost me,” I tell him.

The sky opens in a torrential downpour. The kings look up in confusion, but I turn on my heel and continue walking.

“Finish the game, Zirah!” Zeke calls after me. I stop, glancing over my shoulder at him. “My father is back now. He can run your Kingdom. Go through with the marriage agreement. Even if you don’t choose me, you can at least choose one of them.”

“Are you serious? You want me to play your stupid little game?”

Zeke shrugs while his brothers stare at him. “Come to our kingdoms, then decide. Finish the game. If you still don’t want us, we’ll stand down from our thrones.”

I scoff. All this crap was caused because of them wanting the throne, and they expect me to believe they would walk away from their kingdoms for me? I shake my head and turn back toward the castle, ignoring them.

When I finally reach my room, I collapse onto the floor, grief washing over me in waves. The pain of losing my grandmother is raw and fresh, a wound reopened by the knowledge that she had been alive, only for me to lose her all over again.

Memories of my mother’s death batter my mind, the image of her burning at the stake just like I did. I remember how my entire life flashed before my eyes, how I got my runes, and how my grandmother always protected me.

My cheek presses against the cold floor, and my body shakes with grief as I lie there, utterly consumed by the memories of every high priestess before me.

My heart aches, and I can’t help but feel as if I’ve lost a part of myself—a part that was taken from me twice, first by the illusion of Granny’s death, and now again with her sacrifice.

My mind floods with images from my mother’s and grandmother’s memories, and when I squeeze my eyes shut, the damp, earthy scent of the cave surrounds me.

Water drips against stone in the distance as a little girl plays near the cave’s entrance.

Her hair is windswept, and the smile on her face is pure joy as she bounces after a rabbit in the entrance of the cave.

Her laughter reverberates off the walls, and the sunlight filters through the trees outside, casting a warm, golden glow on the cave’s mouth.

I’m preparing our dinner, but my hands unmistakably belong to Granny.

Her bow still hangs over my shoulder from our hunting trip, and the knife in my weathered hand slices through the freshly caught rabbit.

I can feel the weight of her weapon on my back and the ache in her aging hands as if they were my own.

I watch the child play, just as Granny had watched that day, and I can feel her love through her memory.

There is a flare of sadness and curiosity in the little girl’s eyes as her tiny hands find the fur of the second dead rabbit lying on the stone next to the one I am cutting.

Her small fingers brush the lifeless creature.

To my astonishment, the rabbit’s fur suddenly bristles with life, and it leaps from the stone and scampers away. My hands move without permission, snatching the little girl up. I can feel Granny’s fear pulsing through me.

“What did you do?” I ask, but it’s Granny’s quivering voice instead of my own.

Before the little girl can say a thing, a gasp comes from the clearing nearby, and we turn to see a man stumbling into our camp.

His eyes are wide with terror, and his voice shakes as he points a trembling finger at the child.

“She’s a witch,” he stammers.

Without hesitation, I drag Granny’s bow over my shoulder and shoot him with an arrow, killing him instantly. I snatch the child up and drag her back to the safety of our cave...

The little girl is me. Long arms and legs but thin as a rail. I remember this day—chasing rabbits because I had no friends to play with—but this is clearly not my memory, and the body I am in is Granny’s.

I remember playing with the rabbits. My granny’s abruptness. The cave. The runes being burned into my skin for the second time in my life. The searing pain.

Granny remembers things differently. Her pain isn’t physical like mine; it’s soul deep as the child in her hands screams and begs for her to stop.

I’m chanting a protection spell in my grandmother’s voice, and I can feel her intentions clear as day. She wanted to obscure my powers from the world.

When the little girl’s body gives out, and she falls unconscious, Granny’s tears fall like rain as she tends to the burns.

I’m watching her hands apply a salve to the blistering welts. She never showed me how much it hurt her to put me through those many sessions of branding, but now I understand.

Each time she rebranded me was a milestone of when my magic manifested more.

The stronger I got, the quicker the ruins that masked my power wore off—and the weaker hers got trying to mask mine.

This is why she aged so drastically. It wasn’t the elements, it was me.

Her magic camouflaged mine, trying to contain it while constantly stealing those memories from me so I wouldn’t be tempted to unleash my power.

With the runes finished and the medicine applied, I lovingly haul the little girl to her cot for rest. It’s such a strange feeling to see yourself through another’s eyes and to feel the love and fear they felt for you.

A sharp inhale and a wave of grief brings me spinning back to my castle bedroom.

I can’t help but think about my dreams and the visions of a kingdom that haunted me throughout my life.

The dreams were filled with battles, love, and betrayal, pieces of a past life that seemed just out of reach.

But now I am faced with the reality that Granny gave everything to protect me, just as she had done so many times before.

The floor beneath me is cold, and I curl into myself, the weight of my grief threatening to crush me. The world outside my room seems distant and unimportant, and I can’t help but wonder how I could possibly face it without Granny by my side.

As the rain continues to pound against my window, I cling to the memories of my past, seeking solace in the love that Granny so selflessly gave me.

After my self-pity party, I eventually gather the strength to stand, feeling the need to wash away the anguish that clings to me. My wolves follow me into the bathroom, their presence comforting.

For once, I finally manage to hit the right buttons to make the shower water warm, and I step in, letting the water soothe my aching body and mind. Halfway through my shower, Gnash suddenly jumps to his feet and stares intently at the bathroom door.

“What is it, boy?” I ask, hastily washing the shampoo from my hair and eyes.

As I turn to see what has caught his attention, I spot Regan standing in the doorway of the bathroom, his eyes fixed on me. “Hate me all you want, but I’m not leaving,” he tells me, peeling off his soaking wet shirt.