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The Dragon's Lycan King Novel Cover

The Dragon's Lycan King

In the shadowed halls of the Terracotta Village, betrayal and ambition collide. Marcus, the formidable Alpha, denounces Chrissie with icy disdain, his words cutting deeper than any blade. Once bound by loyalty and love, she now stands exposed; her sacrifice, her strength, dismissed as fragile weakness. Meanwhile, lurking in the darkness, Seraphina weaves her delicate, calculated deception, her true ambitions cloaked behind a mask of vulnerability. And beyond the shadows, Callum, the legendary Lycan King, watches with an unreadable gaze, his presence both regal and dangerous. In a world where trust is fleeting and power is everything, alliances fracture and fates are sealed in blood and deception.
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Chapter 4

The collective gasp of the pack was deafening. Excited whispers erupted like wildfire across the grand hall. Eyes darted rapidly toward me, wide with a toxic mixture of pity, confusion, and outright mockery. I stood entirely frozen, my vivid red eyes locked onto Marcus with laser precision. He finally looked at me, his icy blue gaze filled with a mixture of pride and defiance. I had bled for my Alpha, sacrificing literal pieces of my own soul and body, only to be effortlessly discarded for this scheming woman's trembling, pathetic lies.

I took a slow step forward, the sheer humiliation burning through my veins like boiling acid. The heat within me, a strange, ancient fire I had secretly harbored since childhood, inherited from parents I never knew, flared violently in the center of my chest. I wanted to scream. I wanted to tear the grand hall down to its foundations and watch them burn. Seraphina instantly buried her face against Marcus's broad chest, her narrow shoulders shaking as if she were terrified of the crowd, but her hand rested perfectly on his bicep, her fingers digging in with a deeply possessive, triumphant grip that only I could truly read.

"Marcus," I breathed out, the single word carrying perfectly over the murmurs of the crowd. "After everything I gave you? You promised me."

"Stand down, Chrissie," Marcus warned, his voice instantly hardening, slipping into the intimidating, overbearing Alpha tone that commanded the entire room to heel. "You are a valued member of Terracotta Village. But you are wolf-less. Our people need a traditional Luna. Seraphina is noble. She is pure. Accept your place. I am your Alpha and you will not question me."

"Don't you love me?" I asked, it coming out quieter than I meant to.

"Love?" Marcus let out a short, harsh bark of a laugh that cut through the tension like a blade. He stepped closer, his shadow looming over me, cold and immovable. "You were a soldier, Chrissie. A tool. You were the shield I used to climb to this throne, and I thank you for your service, but don't mistake gratitude for affection."

He reached out, not to touch me with tenderness, but to grip my chin, forcing my burning red eyes to meet his icy gaze. "I never loved you," he murmured, his voice dropping to a cruel, intimate level that only I could hear. "How could I? You're a freak of nature. A wolf-less girl with eyes like a demon and a temper that scares the very men you lead. Seraphina is light. She is peace. You... you are just a reminder of the blood I had to spill to get here."

Behind him, Seraphina let out a tiny, staged sob, molding herself even closer to his side. Marcus didn't even look back at her; his focus was entirely on crushing the last of my spirit.

"The promises I made? Those were the lies of a man who needed a general. Now, I need a Luna. Pack up your things. You'll be moved to the outer barracks by sunrise. Consider it a mercy that I'm letting you stay at all."

He let go of my face with a dismissive flick of his wrist, as if he were shaking off dirt. The grand hall stayed silent, but the heat in my chest was no longer a flicker, it was a sun, expanding, demanding to be released.

I didn't even blink. The hum of the crowd, the pitying sighs, Seraphina's delicate sniveling, all of it faded into a dull, distant static. I didn't look at Marcus. Instead, I turned my head slowly, my vivid red gaze sweeping across the grand hall. I looked at the elders who had let me bleed for their borders. I looked at the warriors who had called me sister while I sewed their wounds shut. I looked at every single soul who was now looking at the floor, too cowardly to meet the eyes of the woman who had bought their safety with pieces of her own soul.

"Look at me," I said. It wasn't a shout. It was a low, vibrational pull that forced every head in the hall to snap upward. "I gave my blood to build these walls, does that mean nothing?" the words carrying through the silence like a death knell.

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