Page 56 of The Unwanted Mate of the Lycan Kings (Unwanted #1)

As I wrap my mind around what’s happening, the air freezes in my lungs.

Every wound inflicted on Zeke appears on Lyon as well.

From what he said, it seems like it’s also happening to Regan.

This curse is more than just sharing pain or having their lives bound together.

It’s forcing them to experience the consequences of each other’s sins.

My heart races as I realize what’s happening.

Lyon’s skin opens up once again. The whip marks covering Lyon’s body are deeper with each strike.

Red, angry lines cover every inch of him as Regan loses control.

As the shower floor fills with blood, the smell of iron fills the air.

My heart races with panic as I watch Lyon’s skin open up repeatedly, and I know I have to find a way to stop him.

I struggle to my feet, ignoring the pain and discomfort, knowing I need to stop this before it gets worse. Lyon reaches for me, but I shake my head. “Stay here. Try to stop the bleeding. I’ll find Regan and Zeke.”

“Zirah.. .” Lyon groans, making me pause to look back at him.

“I’ll find them. Where would Regan have taken him?

” Yet before he can answer, Lyon groans loudly and slumps forward, passing out.

Panic shoots through me as I lift his head back to check if he’s still breathing.

He is, but that doesn’t help me locate his brothers.

I can’t wait for him to wake up, either.

I stumble out of the shower, trying to find my bearings as I search for the two brothers.

Turning, I race for the door, slipping and skidding on the floors as I burst into the hall.

I don’t even care that I only havea torn shirt on and the rest of me is bare, not when Lyon and Regan’s lives depend on it. I hate them for what they’ve done, but it doesn’t warrant death. Zeke, maybe, but Lyon?

Glancing down the corridor, I look for any guards, but I find none. I pause, my eyes going to the end of the hall to Regan’s door.

Gnash! Without hesitation, I race toward Regan’s bedroom door and burst through it, stumbling in haste as I search for his wolf. The moment the door opens, I spot Gnash’s white head pop up from where he lay on the bed.

The moment he spots me, he charges at me and pounces, his tongue licking, but he seems weaker, maybe from feeling Regan dying.

Grabbing his big furry head in my hands, I stop his flicking tongue from mauling me.

“Where is Regan?” I ask his wolf. Gnash whimpers, and I grip his fur harder.

“Gnash...Take me to your master,” I tell him.

He pauses, then jumps down, looks at me, then takes off out the door.

As I chase Ghash through the dimly lit corridors, he leads me downstairs to the foyer. From the bottom of the stairs, the faint sound of the whip and Zeak’s pained groans filters up through the boards in the floor. They’re in the basement!

As I’m doing my best to keep up with Gnash, the grand entrance doors open, making me pause, and I see King Theron has returned.

His face is a mix of concern and annoyance, while I wonder briefly why he has returned early.

Shelley and Malachi are hot on his heels, along with another man I do not recognize.

As I stare at the king, I can see something has drastically changed. He is no longer the same haggard man who left here. He almost appears rejuvenated. His walk is different, his skin, even the way he carries himself.

“Zirah!” he bellows, his voice echoing through the grand foyer, making me stop in my tracks. “Where are my sons?” he demands, his eyes narrowing as he looks at me expectantly.

I stand there, panic rising in my chest for Zeke knowing that if he dies, he will kill his brothers, torn between answering the king and continuing after Gnash. I glance at the way Gnash ran off, knowing that time is running out, but also aware of the consequences of disrespecting King Theron.

Before I can decide what to do, Gnash returns and whines at my side, his eyes pleading with me to follow him. He seems to sense the urgency of the situation, and his loyalty to his master overrides any fear of the king.

With a deep breath, I make up my mind.

Ignoring the king’s furious expression, I turn and rush off with Gnash, leading the way to the dungeons.

I can hear King Theron shouting after me, his anger clear in his voice, but I don’t let it stop me.

I know that if I don’t find them in time, the consequences will be far more severe than anything the king can do to me.

As we reach the dungeon door, I can feel the weight of the king’s anger heavy on my shoulders, but I push it aside, focusing on the task at hand, and I grip the handle while Gnash scratches at the door. Shoving the door open, I rush down the stairs, only to stop halfway at the scene before me.

Zeke is strung up by chains from the dungeon ceiling, his clothes torn and tattered, with deep wounds that still bleed. The stench of blood fills the room, and the floor beneath Zeke is coated in blood.

“Regan!” I shout, trying to make my voice heard above the chaos and the sound of the cracking whip. “Stop! You’re hurting Lyon, too!”

Regan’s face contorts with conflict, but the rage in his eyes doesn’t subside.

Rushing toward him, I see Regan is in the same state.

Like Lyon, his body is covered in marks from the whip that he holds in his hand.

His anger is so potent, he doesn’t even appear to acknowledge that while punishing his brother, he’s also punishing himself.

He’s struggling to regain control, as he raises the whip again, and I realize that I have to act quickly.

My eyes flick to Zeke, who hangs limply from the ceiling, his back carved to pieces.

Zeke doesn’t seem to even be fazed by the whip.

It’s almost as if he craves it. “More!” Zeke rasps out, which seems to only infuriate Regan as the whip slashes his back again.

As much as I despise Zeke for what he did to me, I can’t let Regan kill him, not if it means losing Lyon and Regan too.

So, without thinking, I run toward Zeke and throw myself in front of his body just as the whip comes down again.

The stinging pain is immediate as it hits my skin, and I cry out, tears welling up in my eyes.

My scream is deafening as my back arches.

The whip felt like a thousand razors cutting through my skin.

I could feel it slicing through the back of my shirt, and the thin fabric provided little protection against the sharp sting of the whip.

I clench my teeth, trying to fight back the wave of pain that is surging through my body.

Tears stream down my face as I try to stay standing, but my body shakes from the agony, and my knees give out, leaving me in a heap on the floor.

My cry of pain is enough finally to snap Regan out of his blind rage. His eyes widen with horror as he realizes what he’s just done. Before he can react, though, Gnash mauls him, his teeth tearing into Regan’s arm, forcing him to let go of the whip and defend himself.

Regan backs away, shock and guilt etched on his face.

He looks at me, at Zeke, and then at Gnash.

The realization of what he was doing sinks in, and the anger slowly drains from him.

“Zirah...” Regan stumbles toward me, then stops dead in his tracks.

Peering up at Zeke, I reach for the pulley and yank on it.

Zeke crashes to the ground beside me in a heap when I feel a draft from the door opening.

It’s at that moment that I remember my shirt and the way it tore under the crack of the whip.

I gasp, turning to peer at Regan to find his eyes on my back.

A sudden silence fills the room. Both Regan and I freeze. I instinctively try to cover the runes with my hands, but it’s too late.

King Theron’s voice echoes through the basement as he enters, demanding to know why the Vampiric King has declared war.

However, his words trail off when he catches sight of me on the floor with Zeke.

He takes in the scene surrounding him and follows his son’s stunned expression, to the runes on my back.

“Litha?” King Theron murmurs, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief. He looks at Malachi and Shelley. “Did you know?” they don’t answer but both look guilty as sin.

King Theron nods, his lips lifting to show his sharp canines have elong ated. “Of course you did!” he roars.

Regan, still reeling from his actions, looks at me with newfound confusion and curiosity. The anger that had consumed him moments before has vanished, replaced by something I can’t decipher. I can feel the intensity of his stare as he tries to process what he’s seeing.

Regan’s confusion only grows, but before he can say anything, his father snarls, his gaze fixed on me.

He believes I’m the witch who cursed his sons, and his anger is palpable.

With a blindingly fast movement, he steps toward me and roughly tears off the rest of my shirt, revealing the runes that run down my arms as well.

King Theron staggers back and his face twists. “Witch,” he sneers, his eyes burning with hatred. He turns to the guards who had accompanied him into the basement. “Kill her!” he orders, his voice filled with venom, and I gasp, my eyes desperately turning to Regan.

The guards’ expressions are a mix of fear and determination as they advance on me.

My heart races, and I try to back away, but there’s nowhere to run.

Just when I think my fate is sealed, Regan steps in front of me, blocking the guards’ path, and Zeke rips me back against him, finally finding the strength to sit up.