The Marked Mate of the Lycan King.

rald

. I scrubbed the stone floor, my knuckles raw against the rough, freezing surface, careful not to look up. In this part of the Black Hills pack

ed the ground out from under me: I reject you. Four years since my mate bond,

of burden. Still scrubbin

wearing silks that shined with the color of freshly shed blood. Damon had mated her six months after rejecting

d morning, Luna," I murmured, my

course, but the pups need comfort." She sniffed dramatically, wrinkling her nose as if she smelled the failure radiating off

they did, settling heavily in my ch

stiff brush. I am a survivor. You are ju

locked behind my teet

and your scars. Really, Esmeralda. Try to cover them. They distress the oth

ut the deep, faint, almost silver-white lines that patterned my forearms, marks I couldn't exp

vacant, blank stare. "Understood, L

istance that still lived behind my intense, brown eyes. "See that you do. The Alpha will be back soo

inst the cold stone floor. Trash collection. That'

d to mend fishing nets, and I used it to walk the perimeter, moving toward the edge of the forgotten pine for

cal, like my soul had been scooped out and replaced with sand. I still saw Damon sometimes-bloated, arrogant, shouting

cliff face that marked the boundary

Man

en. He was slumped against the cliff base, his breathing shallow and rattling. His threadb

r overriding my inst

leeding. What happened

aped his lips. He was in terrible shape, but his eyes,

s." His voice was a dry whisper, but the intensity in his ga

is blood-soaked tunic. He pulled out something that looked like a cr

trength. His touch was sticky with his own blood. "They call your lineage the Sil

blood staining my skin. "Silas, please, what ar

stone! You see the path! The ancient, true path!" He was shouting now, the sound a

rauma had broken his mind. "The Shadow Canyons are an illusion!

n, Esmeralda! And he needs this path to breathe!" Silas jammed the obsid

brated through me, settling strangely right into the pale, silver-white scars on my

come for the path. They will come for the killer. Hide this. Tru

gone. I remained hunched there, the cold obsidian burning in my hand, staring at the jagged cliff face. Silver-Eyed? Killer? The words were n

d? A true path? I quickly wrapped the obsidian talisman in an oily rag an

I felt it-not through scent, not throu

ontinuous

arp and disorganized. This was low, methodical, and heavy. It sounded like a massive, dis

roat. I pressed myself against the kenne

clash of weaponry, the sharp cracks of bone, and the deep, guttural r

peek around

nerving precision. They were Lycans, yes, but they were the elite Guard of the Iron Citadel.

e never left his Citadel. He neve

d by a large, granite-faced Lycan whose uniform indicated he was high-ranking, the

in the territory. They were executing every male combatant on sight, clearing the area. T

th: Silas hadn't warned me about a future threat.

boots stopped just inches from my face. I held my breath, clo

d devoid of inflection, cut thr

ese dregs. Rhys, where is the woman

The voice was heavy with authority and power,

read, that the King's forces weren't here

re here