Book One in the Lycan Chronicles
Evander Rue had his entire life planned out even before he was born. He grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth and parents who never had time for him. A family who barely called or cared for him left him to be rais...
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When the full moon had arrived, and the bars had thankfully worked; even though Evan had managed to dent them, they held up. Andraste had behaved for the most part, but she too used her body to try and escape a few times. Eventually, she had calmed down after they had fed her, but just like any other werewolf, she was feral and oftentimes would swipe her paws through the bars to sink her claws into their throats. The she-wolf had been larger than the average werewolf but noticeably smaller than Evan, with deep ginger fur that almost looked auburn and bright, vehement violet eyes with small pupils. Midnight stayed with Evan the whole night until he shifted back, barely conscious with healing wounds from where his skin had made contact with the silver bars. The last thing Evan had seen before he succumbed to the darkness was Midnight opening the door to his cell, then nothing.
He dreamt of the Norseman and his travel to France, but there was no main focus like the last time. Just flashes of memories of his possible ancestor. Just like in the other dream, he couldn't see the Alpha-king's face, only his eyes. It was vivid, and when Evan woke up, he wasn't entirely sure where he was or if he even was in the present, but the cold gray eyes that greeted him brought him back to reality.
"Morning, how do you feel?"
His body was sore, yet it was nowhere near like the first time he shifted, meaning his recovery time wasn't nearly as long as before. They were back in his room, but this time the sun-blocking curtains were drawn to obstruct the harsh light of the dawn. The werewolf sat up, stretching his arms over his head, letting his stiff bones crack gratifyingly after the agonizing night they had. The pops his bones gave were intense, and to some, they could have been regarded gruesome, yet Midnight didn't recoil from his position at the edge of the bed, just watched silently. The blonde was at ease, and for a moment, he had no worries about the responsibilities he owed to the people in his life as he leaned the upper part of his body against the headboard. Unsurprisingly, he was naked under the black blanket that hardly covered his crotch. Evan's eyes adjusted to the scarcely animated room and focused on the goth in front of him, who wore black jeans and a long-sleeved rock band t-shirt.
"Good morning." He greeted, his voice husky from sleep as he ran a hand through his tangled white hair. "What time is it?"
"Almost five. The sun will be setting soon." The goth glanced at the curtain-covered window. "Have any more dreams?"
