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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 6

Marcus let out a strangled, pathetic roar of protest from the platform, trying desperately to fight the crushing Lycan aura, but Callum merely flicked his wrist without looking, and an invisible, near telekinetic force slammed the Alpha back against his wooden throne.

"Look at him," Callum commanded me, his hot, pine-scented breath fanning across my parted lips. "Look at the weak boy who threw you away. And then show him exactly who you truly belong to."

Before my stunned brain could even process the dark command, Callum's mouth crashed down onto mine. It wasn't a gentle, probing kiss. It was a brutal, explicit, and total claiming. His firm lips forced mine apart, his thick tongue plunging past my teeth to taste me deeply, relentlessly mapping every inch of my mouth. The wild scent of him filled my lungs, drowning out the stench of the terrified pack cowering on the floor. I whimpered, a shameful, incredibly needy sound that vibrated loudly in my throat. My hands, which had been balled into tight fists, betrayed my logical mind and uncurled to grip the thick, bulging muscles of his arms, anchoring myself to him as my knees went weak.

He effortlessly scooped me up into his massive, powerful arms, cradling me tight against his broad chest as if I weighed nothing at all. My mind was violently spinning, my body completely drained and incredibly, acutely sensitive to his every movement. I looked up at his terrifyingly chiseled face. The legendary Lycan King had just publicly humiliated my betrayers, destroyed their ceremony, and explicitly claimed me before my entire pack. His possessive obsession was a raging, unstoppable inferno, and as he effortlessly carried me out of the shattered oak doors and out into the freezing, dark mountain night, I realized I had traded Marcus's weak, pathetic promises for a far more dangerous, utterly intoxicating cage.

I weakly rested my exhausted head against his chest, listening to the slow, steady, powerful thud of his Lycan heart. Seraphina would undoubtedly scheme to use this violent abduction to her advantage, and Marcus's deeply bruised ego would inevitably spark a bloody war. But as Callum's massive arms tightened fiercely and protectively around my trembling frame, it felt as if something powerful finally ignited deep within my chest. I wouldn't just be his captive plaything.

If I survived the Lycan King's intense obsession, I would become his absolute equal.

The freezing mountain air hit my flushed skin, a stark contrast to the suffocating heat of the Lycan King's body.

"Chrissie! Drop her, you monster!" Marcus's voice ripped through the night, cracked with a desperate, wounded pride.

I heard the heavy thud of boots hitting the stone steps, Marcus was pursuing, driven by the singular madness of an Alpha who had been publicly emasculated. He wasn't coming for me out of love; he was coming for his property.

Callum didn't break his stride. He didn't even tense. He continued walking toward the tree line where a massive, matte-black stallion waited, its eyes glowing with a preternatural intelligence.

"The boy doesn't know when to stay down," Callum mused, his voice a low, vibrating rumble in his chest that made my inner fire lick at my ribs. He stopped abruptly, turning just enough for Marcus to see the predatory glint of his teeth in the moonlight. Marcus skidded to a halt ten feet away, his claws extended, his face contorted into a snarl.

"You can't just take her. She is Terracotta blood! She is-"

"She is nothing to you," Callum interrupted, his voice dropping into a register that made the very ground tremble. He adjusted his grip on me, his large hand splayed over my thigh in a gesture so possessive it felt like a brand. "You called her a tool. A freak. You threw her to the dirt to make room for a lapdog." Callum stepped closer to Marcus, looming like a mountain of shadow. "I am not taking her, little Alpha. I am reclaiming what the stars were too generous to give you in the first place. If you take one more step, I won't just pin you to your throne. I will tear the heart from your chest and feed it to the crows while your 'pure' Luna watches."

The sheer lethality in Callum's tone turned Marcus's blood to ice. I saw the flicker of genuine, soul-deep terror in my former Alpha's eyes. He looked at me, pleading for a second, but I didn't reach out. I couldn't, Callum's aura paralyzed me.

"You cannot take her," Marcus tried in vain, but he didn't dare move closer.

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