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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is why they chose that day to attack, as soon as word got out she was in labor they planned an attack, I was hours away and didn’t

was bonded to my wife, blood bonded. With her gone she will die, though that can take years, decades even, but no one blood

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

vain, she

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natural. My eyes roam over her in her summer dress, hair pulled back in a ponytail high on her head. She is gorgeous, but that makes me all the more curious. She

a mutt. We are the wolf, born with our instincts, we learn to control them. Werewolves however, have an altered

piece of privacy,

I call out loudly, slightly annoyed at being interrupted. The door creaks open, but I don’t turn to see which of my staff members