Lycan's Prey by Jessica Hall

Chapter 25

“Max, I have to go to work,” I murmur, the words barely escaping my lips as I crouch down to his level.

“Work?” His voice is a small echo of disappointment, but he quickly brightens, the resilience of youth shining through. “Well, maybe you can come over and play at my place?” A strand of hair falls into his face, and he brushes it aside with an innocence that squeezes my heart.

I sigh. “Maybe another time, Max,” I say softly, offering a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. My chest tightens with guilt for the loneliness etched into his features.

“Sweetie, I need to go home and check on my grandma,” I murmur, the quiver in my voice betraying the turmoil beneath my calm exterior. Max’s bright eyes widen, a glimmer of understanding behind the innocence. Yet, he’s persistent, his next words tugging at the already frayed edges of my resolve.

“My daddy can drive you home! Then you can come home with us after you check Granny!” His eagerness is a punch to my gut; it stings. Isn’t there a friend, a playmate, for him somewhere?

“Max, I…” My voice trails off trying to come up with an excuse. It’s clear his father doesn’t want me around his son, and why would he? I am a stranger after all and trying to deceive the king. But Max’s hopeful gaze tugs at something deep within me, a maternal instinct I didn’t know existed, mingling with an undeniable pull towards his father that’s both reckless and irresistible.

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kindness, send a jolt through my veins. The scent of him–a mix of pine and power–fills my senses,

tremor through my body, I’m supposed to maintain distance,

that isn’t necessary,” I falter again, my

much more than a simple man. But the wolf inside me howls in protest, craving his nearness, while the woman fears the inevitable fall into his orbit and the destruction he can cause if he figures

a small hand reaching for

King Soren, seeking mercy in his gaze, pleading silently for him to tell his son no for

believe mainly because he is busy and

in the crossfire of their expectant stares. The offer is kindness itself, but danger lurks beneath the surface. If I accept, I’ll be confined with him, alone with the questions I fear, the urges I must suppress, the

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stammer, my voice