Lycan's Prey by Jessica Hall

Chapter 48

~Soren~

The grandeur of the castle feels more oppressive than usual today. I’ve done nothing but argue with council members when all I want to do is join Max and Bree for lunch. However, I have responsibilities to attend to. Responsibilities that weigh heavily on me, as does the guilt of leaving Max with his nanny all day long.

Not that Bree isn’t capable. She has shown she is more than qualified for the job. She’s the first nanny Max hasn’t tried to escape. Moving toward the window, the scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers wafts in through the open window. I peer down at the courtyard, Bree’s hair is tied back in a neat rainbow ponytail today, and she is wearing a sundress as she stands by the swings with Max. Max’s face splits into a wide grin each time he swings higher, his small frame nearly flying through the air while screaming for her to push him higher.

At this moment, the weight of fatherhood feels heavier than the castle’s stone walls. But as I gaze down at Bree and Max, their laughter and joy lift some of that weight, I suddenly miss my wife. She passed away during labor with our daughter, I lost both of them that day. It’s the only time Lycan women are

vulnerable.

Childbirth, their bodies unable to heal quickly, and

breastfeeding all take a toll on Lycan women too, she was only just getting back to herself after having Max when she fell pregnant again, Lycan women are vulnerable while

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soon as word got out she was in labor they planned an attack, I was hours away

decades even, but no one

no chance but she took half those rogues with her when they attacked. We lost over a hundred people that day, they lost more by the time she was done slaughtering them, though Blair said she knew. She knew that Amelia had given up when she was shot in the stomach with a concoction of wolfsbane and liquid silver. She knew our daughter Amaya was gone; it was

mark her, I loved my wife but she was vain, she insisted on losing

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high on her head. She is gorgeous, but that makes me all the more curious. She hasn’t budged on revealing anything about her past. Although I know she’s not dangerous, it makes me a bit nervous. Not to mention that

not that Bree is a mutt. We are the wolf, born with our instincts, we learn to control them. Werewolves however, have an altered side of them, the wolf side of them has no control under a full

her here, she insisted on going home to her grandfather’s cellar. I think she was home sick, I am fully equipped to have her handled here, yet I let her go, letting her that piece of privacy, though

over my shoulder. “Come in,” I call out loudly, slightly annoyed at being interrupted. The door