It Came From Salem- A Lycan Story

May She Never Be Without a Mate

"I am Arland Heavolt, Crowned King of the Lycans, and your rightful ruler. I have come to challenge you for my throne."

I inhaled a sharp breath, staring down at the man. My gaze was scrutinizing him as if almost a week of cloud cover on my eyes lifted to reveal the clearest picture I had ever viewed. He was clean, unlike the first time we had met. His hair was short on the sides while the top was a curly mess. His jaw and nose were sharp and strong, and his body exuded a confidence I had never seen before in any man.

A silence fell over the crowd, every Lycan watching feeling shocked at the revelation. The Councilmen looked to each other, unsure of how to proceed.

The sight of him caused feelings to arise in me that sounded every alarm in my system. I should be hating this man, fearing what he had done to me, but instead, I found I was longing to be closer to him.

The man, Arland, growled lowly, unhappy his proclamation was met with something other than total submission.

A man from the crowd stepped forward, and while he was too far for me to see, I knew who he was. There was only ever one in each generation, when one was born we knew the old would be passing soon. He was held at a high status among everyone in the pack. 

The Truthseeker took many steps until he was standing a few paces before the Councilmen, staring directly at the man who claimed to be King. He did not move his eyes from Arland as he made his decree, "Our King is not lying." With that, he dropped to a knee, one fist over his heart.

As gasps rippled through the crowd, so did bodies fall into a kneeling position. Soon all the Lycans were on their knee, bowing to their King. Arland slowly lifted his hands, a proud smirk on his face as he surveyed the crowd. His eyes lifted to where I sat on the balcony, his head tilting and his smile dropping to see I had not moved.

I was in too much pain to move, nor did I feel the same compulsion the others of my species had to bow. No wolf meant no allegiance to the Wolf King.

His stare bore into me for what felt like hours, his eyes seeming to battle between anger that I was not bowing and amusement for the same reason. I do not know which feeling won out, but a voice from the crowd stole his attention from me.

"We concede rule of the kingdom to you, my King," Councilman Rigor's voice declared, still bowing towards Arland.

A growl ripped from Arland's throat, as he focussed his gaze at the Councilman, "Do you dare speak out of turn in front of your King?"

I snorted, the first moment of glee since I saw my little blue bird days prior, alive and well. How ironic that speaking out of turn was so bad for me in the Council chambers, and now Councilman Rigor was doing the exact same thing. Arland's head whipped in my direction, his furrowed brows stealing the giggle from me before it could be released.

Icy fear forced me to stare back, the breath stolen from my lungs. Without removing his eyes from me, Arland declared, "You may all rise." Once the last Lycan was off the ground did he finally direct his attention back to Councilman Rigor. "You will be wise to speak only when spoken to, dog."

He scowled at the group of Councilmen before him, judging them with his eyes. The crowd was so silent, the sounds of the wind bristling in the grass could be heard up by my balcony, even without my wolf to help me hear.

"As leaders of my pack in my leave, you allow she-wolves to mate with men who are not their Fated Mate?" His eyes were bouncing between the men in front of him. He seemed to be relishing the discomfort they were displaying. Their silence upset him, as he pointed to Councilman Rigor, "You who seems so eager to talk, what is your name?"