Siren's Secret

23. Fynn

Darkness. Chains. Pain. When the Lycan prince Fynn was conscious, those three things seemed to be the only things that were consistent.  He no longer knew how long he had been away or where his captors had taken him. 

Fynn was grateful that his white wolf was strong.  He's been able to resist their attempts to torture information from him. His captors hadn't banked on him turning into his wolf form the first time he woke.  Now, to protect him from the cold, dank environment and the intense amount of wolfsbane, his wolf has insisted to stay in control. 

Unlike werewolves, Lycans don't have a name for their wolves. They are just an extension of themselves- the part of ourselves that is darker, protective, and will do anything to survive just given a physical form.

The damn collar was the worst. The wolfsbane soaked silver and steel chains hurt, but the guards took special pleasure in shocking Fynn whenever he so much as looked at them.  They hoped that Fynn would wear down and shift back human so they could get whatever it was they wanted out of him. Neither Fynn, nor his wolf, would let that happen. 

He looked down at his chained paws. They were dirty and almost black from the muck and mold. 

Every time he woke up he seemed to be in a different place. This particular room was like a cell. Four cement walls, a steel door with a barred window on it. No exterior windows to allow him to tell where he was or what time of day. 

Fynn's ears perked up as he heard footsteps echoing down the hall. He lay as still as possible as they neared his door. He wasn't exactly wanting to be shocked to within an inch of his life again, but it's better than the alternative. Fynn wasn't exactly sure what the alternative was, but if they went through all this trouble to capture him, he knew it wasn't good.

A few footsteps later and the door opened revealing a hooded figure he'd never seen before.  Fynn noticed that she smelled of dust, sand and saltwater. 

"Guards, turn on the lights!" Her voice, though it sounded harsh, felt warm. Magic seemed to tingle in the air when she spoke, creating a calm, comforting feeling. When the lights turned on, the brightness was harsh and Fynn's wolf needed a second to adjust after being in the dark for so long. 

The woman before him was stunning. She looked to be around her upper thirties, her long blonde hair fell down to her mid back with intricate braids on the sides of her head threaded with golden ribbon to keep the hair from falling in her sea blue eyes.  Her features were sharp, almost bird like, with full lips, and she was dressed in dark brown pants, a brown corset style shirt which accentuated her larger breasts and slim waist. She had a perfect hourglass figure which peaked out of her dark brown cloak clasped with a golden brooch shaped like eagle wings.

She smiled warmly at Fynn, "Well, well. I see you still are giving the guards some trouble by staying in your wolf form. I don't blame you. They are rather boorish and hardly treating you the way a prince should be treated." 

Outwardly she was smiling warmly, but Fynn noticed  the warmth didn't reach her eyes.  Instead a cold indifference clouded an otherwise charming performance. 

She sighed, "Well, it's not very fun talking to myself that's for sure.  So how about this? I trade you a real room, with a bed, a bath, and better food and all you have to do for me, is shift back human. I feel like that's more than fair don't you?"

While all of those would be nice, he would not sell his soul for a few luxuries. He could survive here, not comfortably, but he could. Fynn knew they needed him alive or they would've killed him already, which means he had more bargaining power.

Fynn growled low in response. 

"Okay, I get it. Don't take gifts from strangers," she held up her hands to show she wasn't armed, "So, let's start easy, I'm Ligiea. Princess of the Sirens. See? Now we're not strangers anymore."