Page 12 of The Unwanted Mate of the Lycan Kings (Unwanted #1)

Blood sprays and fur flies as the kings try to ward off their wolves without hurting them. They must care deeply for their pets.

I will have to remember that. Caring for something means they have a weakness, yet it also means they would probably kill for their pets too.

Neither man nor beast seems ready to relent, and I can tell this fight will only end in death. The majestic, beautiful creatures may be lethal and monstrous, but something inside me recoils in disgust at the idea of watching them be killed because they refuse to submit.

“Gnash, Hunter, Shadow!” My voice rings out the order clearly, not even sounding like my own, nor do I remember thinking or speaking the words. Like some baser instinct to protect, the wolves override common sense because they obey instantly, moving to sit at my feet.

I blink at what I did. What the heck is happening? How did I command their loyal pets when they couldn’t?

“Well then, isn’t this a startling new development?” A baritone voice brings all three kings to an abrupt stop as we peer to the left, seeing their father entering the maze’s center.

He is dressed in an elaborate and stylish robe made of thick material, the golden buttons holding it to his shoulders match the gold medals that line his shirt.

His clothes beneath the heavy-looking robe are made of silk and embroidered with gold thread, and although his crown does not sit on top of his head, he still looked like a king and is far more presentable than his casually dressed sons.

He exudes power and authority, just like his sons, but they have not yet mastered his authoritative stance. Even the air surrounding him seems otherworldly in an eerie, yet powerful way.

Their father walks into the center of the maze, and the wolves whine at him instead of growling.

They either think he is harmless or they know he is untouchable—I’m not sure which—but it is clear the king does not fear the wolves.

He gives Gnash and Hunter a scolding look, and they both drop their furry heads and then look back up at me.

The king watches them and chuckles, shaking his head before turning his gaze to his three sons.

“It appears your wolves have chosen for you. Now it’s a matter of whom she chooses!” He speaks clearly and calmly, leaving no room for argument. His aura is stronger than that of his three sons, more powerful, but looking at the edges, I see the flicker in it.

The flicker of death.

“Chosen for us?” Lyon asks, looking between his father and his wolf.

“Appears so,” the king murmurs, looking back at me.

“You were the last girl off the truck. I did hope you would win. There is something about you, I just can’t put my finger on it, but you remind me of someone,” the king muses thoughtfully.

“You’ve met her?” King Regan asks.

“Yes, she has quite the attitude. Maybe you three have met your match. I do hope so. Maybe there is hope for you yet!” The king chuckles.

“She attacked me!”

“Good, you could do with a good beating, son. I am much too old to chase you to deliver it myself. Maybe she can smack some sense into you. That’s if she chooses you. Your mother was never slow to give me a clip behind the ear, would serve you three well to have the same.”

I watch him as the king steps past Lyon, and Gnash whines at him.

“None of that, I mean the girl no harm, Gnash!” the king scolds, and Gnash drops his gaze to the ground as if he is pouting.

“Girl, what is your name?” The king asks, and everyone turns to look at me. I stare at them, wondering if we could get to my death part, I was already tired, and I really didn’t feel like playing any more of their sick games.

I may have survived the maze, but there is no way in hell I’ll be a maid for these fools or scrub the floors beneath their feet. I would rather pick my pillar to burn now than prolong it.

“Your name?” the king repeats.

“Zirah,” I answer, wondering what is going on.

“Nice to meet you, Zirah. I’m sure you already know, but I am King Theron, but you can call me by my name. We are in far too deep now for titles. I will not have my future daughter-in-law call me by title, now come. We have much to discuss,” he says, offering me his hand.

I stare at his hand then at the three kings. Daughter-in-law? Has he gone mad? Surely, I misheard, or this is some kind of joke. I didn’t think he was serious about the conversation I overheard between him and Malachi. Why would the king want his sons to marry a human?

“Father, you can’t be serious about marrying one of us to her. I’d rather marry a bitch from the whorehouse than marry this wench!” Zeke spits. The king looks at his son then back at me.

“Then marry a whore, but forget my throne if you do. Talking like that, you won’t have to worry about marrying her because what woman would want to marry a prick that speaks like that to his future bride?

” the king retorts. My eyes widen, seeing the king speaking so crudely and casually to his sons, nothing like I would picture of the man standing before me.

“Zirah, come with me. They won’t touch you, and you can bring your wolves,” he states. Now that makes the three kings scoff.

“Her wolves?” Regan snarls in outrage. King Theron quirks a brow at his oldest son.

“Fine son, go on, tell your wolf he doesn’t belong to her now.” King Theron’s lips purse as he nods toward Gnash sitting obediently at my feet.

I never asked for this!

Looking up, I see the three kings staring at their wolves. King Regan looks like he is about to drag his wolf away from me, like I have brainwashed his wolf against him.

Lyon actually looks sad his wolf isn’t at his side, and when I peer at his aura, it has flickers of green and blue through it as he watches his wolf.

King Regan’s aura flickers like a colored cloud showing that both of them truly do love their wolves, but Zeke is glaring at Hunter, his arm still dripping blood as he slowly heals.

“Gnash, go to your master,” I tell the wolf. King Regan’s eyes move to mine, his aura flickering with curiosity. However, Gnash doesn’t move. I brush my fingers through his fur before flicking his ear gently.

“Go to Regan,” I tell him, and he huffs but moves toward his owner.

“Didn’t realize we were now on a first-name basis. Just because my father said you can call him by his name, don’t think the same applies to me, human,” Regan sneers.

“I have plenty of other names I find suiting for you. Would you like me to pick another? Though I’m sure you’d prefer your name to what I truly want to call you, Your Highness,” I sneer back at him. Regan glares at me, and I look at Lyon.

“Shadow, go on. Go to Lyon,” I tell him, and he wags his tail, rushing to his master’s side.

“Thank you,” Lyon whispers and nods once. At least he has some manners.

However, looking at Zeke, I don’t want to give his wolf back to him. His aura is menacing, and I know Hunter would be punished. I click my fingers, and Hunter follows me toward King Theron. Zeke steps into my path, his hand reaching for his wolf, and I grip his wrist.

“I don’t know what you’ve done to my wolf, but hand him back!” Zeke snarls, and his entire body trembles, but my grip tightens. No doubt he could break my hold like he broke his wolf’s ribs, but he doesn’t in his father’s presence. He must fear his father’s wrath, another thing to take note of.

“Zeke, if you touch one hair on that girl, you’ll visit the gallows, but you won’t return from them,” the king orders his son. Zeke takes a step back from me.

“First to touch her, right father?” Zeke asks, lifting his hand. My brows furrow.

“She touched you, and none of you were getting close to her unless you were willing to kill your wolves. Now stand down, son, or I will put you down!” the king commands. Zeke growls and shakes my grip off.

“Give him back.” Zeke’s eyes glint with anger as they settle on his wolf at my side.

“He’s mine now,” I tell him.

Zeke laughs and shakes his head. He reaches for the scruff of Hunter’s neck before I can grab him. Hunter backs up, and Gnash growls, stepping forward.

“As I said, he’s mine now,” I tell Zeke before shoving past him. His father lifts his hand, offering it to me. “I won’t bite, Zirah. Unlike my sons, I have manners.” He glares at them behind me, and I sigh, accepting the old man’s hand, thankful he didn’t order me to give Zeke back his wolf.

The walk back to the castle feels impossible as I climb the hill. The lack of sleep and the tormenting night I’ve endured has really settled into my bones.

As I climb the hill, I’m very aware of the kings behind us, watching me. I can feel their angry eyes boring into my back, their auras creeping toward me threateningly. Hunter remains at my side, his fur brushing my legs as I walk.

Yet as we move through the rear courtyard, past the magnificent gardens, and into the grand castle, I find the curious gazes of King Theron’s staff watching me. However, they scatter when the three kings enter behind us, all but one maid King Theron addresses.

“Shelley, can you take Zirah here to the guest quarters in my sons’ wing, please? Find her something to wear.”

“Yes, My King,” the woman answers, motioning for me to follow her when the king turns to face me.

“Shower and come meet me in the dining room. I’m sure you’re hungry.

I will have the chefs make you breakfast,” King Theron says before walking off and leaving me with his maid.

As we watch him go, a warm, hard body presses against my back.

Moving away, I turn to find Zeke looming over me.

Hunter stares up at his master, not so much in fear, just anxiously, like he is waiting for what Zeke will do.