The Hunger (The Lycans 3)

“It’s no’ money I want, lad.”

I tipped my head to the side as I stared into her face, curious what she’d ask for as payment.

“I want ye tae give me a blood promise.”

My entire body straightened, tightened. My muscles flexed. My bones ached as my wolf rose up. A blood promise was binding for eternity, a “favor” to be called upon at any time. Not even my death could break it, and said blood pact would be passed down to my offspring.

The payment she wanted was steep, and I would have said never on any other instance. But this was for my mate. I’d do anything for her.

I’d do everything.

So I didn't hesitate a moment later when I gritted out, “Deal. It’s yers.”

She smiled slowly and held out the medallion. I took it and instantly felt heat fill my hand where the metal touched. It got so hot I almost dropped the necklace, convinced my skin had burned off. I looked down at my palm, the medallion situated in the center. I lifted it off and saw a burned imprint of the circular metal a second before it faded, my skin now unblemished.

“Take care of that mate of yers, young Caelan.”

I glanced up at her and curled my fingers around the now-cooled metal.

“I have a feeling she’s going tae be a handful.” And then she turned and headed back into her cottage, closing the door behind her and ending the transaction.

I slipped the necklace on, feeling the power coursing through it a moment before that magic faded away and all I felt was the heavy weight warm against my flesh. I tucked the necklace under my shirt, made my way back to the Range Rover, and drove off.

I couldn’t get to the estate fast enough, because then I could really be with my mate. We could be alone, and I could claim and mark her. My body shuddered at the thought, arousal coursing through me.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about Magdalena’s words.

“…she’s going tae be a handful.”

I felt a slow grin spread across my mouth. Good, I hoped she was, because that would make it all the more fun when she finally gave in to me.

15

Darragh

It was the sound of something jangling that had consciousness slowly seeping back into me, and once that settled, the next thing I realized was I was on something soft. I shifted slightly, my ankle letting out a fierce scream. I twisted on whatever I was lying on, the musty scent wafting up around me. The pain from my ankle hurt like a bitch, spreading up my calf and to my thigh, this low throb and sharp ache that had me groaning.

I tried to open my eyes, but they felt too heavy, grainy, like thick slabs of cement lined the top of them, refusing to let me open them, they were so weighed down.

I wanted to look around, this darkness suffocating and causing panic to rise in me swiftly. Yet it wasn’t just my eyes that felt heavy but my entire body. I pulled at my arms and heard that jangling sound again, and this time forced the heavy weight off my eyes and opened them.

The first thing I noticed was that I was on a bed, and when I tried to shift atop it, I smelled that mustiness and age once more. There was a pillow behind me, my back propped up on what I assumed was the headboard.

The room was dark except for a few candles that were lit and sitting on each small table beside the bed. But the light barely penetrated whatever room I was in.

I could see my backpack sitting on the floor by the door. My focus went to the window, a set of curtains only pulled open enough that a small section of glass and outside could be seen. It was still night, the silvery-blue moonlight coming through.

It’s night… but what night? How long was I out?

I blinked a few times to clear my vision, to let my eyes adjust to the darkness, and took note of my surroundings. But when I went to put my hands on the mattress to adjust my body, that jingling noise happened again. I tugged on my wrists, only to find them secured to something.

I tipped my head back and looked at my hands, feeling fear and anger fill me even more. Confusion settled in me for just a moment as I took in and really comprehended what I was seeing. Handcuffs were on both my wrists and secured to the metal bars of the headboard. Experimentally tugging again only showed that, yeah, I was good and fucked.

I hissed when the metal dug into my skin, and when I went to push my feet against the mattress to get some leverage, searing pain lashed up my leg.