Unwanted Mate Of The Lycan Kings (by jessica hall) novel Chapter 13

As I turn, my breath makes clouds in the air as my breath rushes out of me in a gasp. Hackled up and growling, I am met with the red eyes of one wolf stepping into the maze center when another growl rings out from the side. Their fur is no longer white but red with the blood they have spilled throughout the night. They reek of it when the third one steps out, each one's steps calculating as they size me up.

I turn, trying to keep an eye on all of them, when they step closer, caging me in. The biggest one growls at its brother, and it snaps its teeth in return back at its brother. Great, they are fighting over who is taking the first bite.

The third one cocks its head to the side, sniffing the air.

“Are you trying to decide which part is juiciest, sorry boys, I’m more the jerky kind of meat. You won’t find much meat on these bones, no need to fight, and I’m sure I taste as bitter as I look,” I tell them. The big wolf huffs, cocking its head to the side.

“Well, clearly, they are fighting over the rump.” Well, those two will be disappointed; not much meat there either my diet of leafy greens and fish and the occasional deer don’t allow for such juiciness, especially this time of year when everything is hunted by bears before we get a chance to find or catch it.

The other two are still arguing and bickering over their midnight snack, which turns into a fight between them, and I am long forgotten as they fight, and the other wolf turns its attention to its brothers for a second.

“I’m chewy, I will definitely get caught in your teeth. You don’t want this,” I tell it. Yet the third one tilts its head to the other side as if it understands exactly what I am saying; it sits back on its haunches, watching me. Maybe he is deciding I do I look chewy, or maybe he had his fill on the red-haired girl; she looked tasty but obviously not much to his taste he only ate part of her; he must be a picky eater.

My eyes flick across the two wolves fighting, the bigger one slamming its brother on the ground. I take a step closer to the nearest exit when the wolf suddenly rises, and once again, all attention is back on me.

A feral growl tears out of the big one and the second one as they both charge at me, and I know I am gone, yep they were definitely fighting over the bone they wanted.

Instead of running, I accept it. I couldn’t outrun these beasts, so I give in knowing death is inevitable, so why fight it? Besides I rather go this way than be cleaning the Kings toilets for the rest of my life, or scrubbing their backs or worse still King Regan making me his bed chamber slave, so death by wolfy chew toy sounds far more appealing.