Lycanthropy (Lycan Series: #1)

Prologue

© 2014 SilverStream22. All Rights Reserved.

Blood rained down as the war raged on. War? No. That would mean two sides with equal strength going against each other. In his case, this was just boot vs ant. Crimson bodies decorated the once peaceful meadow. It was a hundred against one. And he, Stark, was the lone fighter against an army of rogues.

He lounged on the rooftop of the cabin, observing the oh-so-confident stride of the rogues as well as the fear that rang out through their hearts when they saw the house that had the bodies of the ones sent to attack him.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the roof, he gave a cruel smirk, the air thick with the scent of their horror to him.

"Why so surprised? Surely you didn't believe that I would be taken down by some untrained dogs?"

They were frozen, paralyzed with fear.

He jumped down, making sure to slam his boot into the skull of the dead wolf. The sickening crunch made the rogues flinch back.

"Who's next?"

When they were silent, he grew angry.

"Ah, is this how it is? Invade my lands with an army and promising words of war, but the moment you see you're on the losing side- and always will be- you back out?" His cold smile widened until his canines were visible. "Well, that's no fun."

Stark moved slow; there was no need to chase after prey that was still. However the moment that their tense stance dropped, ready to flee, he attacked. So swift that he seemed to be a blur, cuts so clean that the line wasn't visible until the head or limbs flopped down. Screams echoed in his mind as he brought an end to those who dared to go against him- to threaten him in this own territory, his own home.

When it was over the ground soaked up the blood, turning the soil red. But Stark was clean, not an ounce of blood touching his flawless build.

So why did he feel so dirty?

Was it because he had slain yet again?

Or because he took pleasure in doing so?

He recalled his blood brother's words to him: What would your mate think of you, Stark?

He almost laughed at the thought. A mate? For him? Surely the Moon Goddess wouldn't be as cruel as to pair an unlucky girl with a Lycan such as himself; only capable of dark and ruthless things. Slaying those who went against him while basking in the victorious glow of the moonlight suited far better than being a loving and caring mate to a she-wolf.

For he, Stark Xerxes, couldn't possibly have a mate. And if he did, she would be the last thing to stop him from what he does best:

Kill.