Some Lycan Hot: Prologue

Table of Contents

In the recent past…1

ALAYA BENNINGTON

“Damian, crown prince of lycanthropes and his mate. You do us a great honor,” said High Priestess Alaya Bennington.

Sitting in an oversized red-velvet wingback—Alaya waited. Her dress was more elaborate than those worn by the acolytes, a privilege of her rank as high priestess of the Moon Goddess. She also wore a long black veil, which hid her identity and the face marred by fire.

Even though she had received signs that the king of lycans and his queen would visit, she felt less like the high priestess and more like the girl she’d been so long ago.

She’d grown up with the royal lycans, and had been a close friend. She missed them. Missed them all. But only one brought the ache to her heart and the tears to her eyes.

Darrius.

Was he okay?

Had he found love?

Was he a husband, a father?

“You are the high priestess?” asked Damian.

“I am.” She rose and an executed a graceful curtsey. “Your Highnesses.”

Next to him was a petite woman with brown hair and kind eyes. Damian’s mate, Kelsey, was a werewolf made, not born. She had been human, and now she was not only a wolf shifter, but also the queen of their kind.

Damian stared at her, his confused expression melding into shocked realization. “Alaya?” he choked out.

Her heart turned over in her chest. Damn it. She should’ve known he’d recognize her, even with the veil.

She was prepared to deny it, but before any words left her lips, Damian grabbed her into a fierce hug. “We thought you lost! Why did you never contact us?”

Oh, if only she could tell him. She wanted, so badly, to ask about Darrius, but she was afraid to know if he’d moved on. Had he found a mate? Did he have children? Was he able to forget about her, and find someone else?

She hadn’t.

She couldn’t.

Her heart could never belong to another. It’s why she fully embraced her role at the Moon Goddess temple. She wouldn’t wish her loneliness on anyone, especially not Darrius. She wanted him to be deliriously happy. Even if it was without her.

She pulled out of Damian's embrace and said, “We all have our destinies.”

“What do you mean? You and Darrius are destined."

"I belong to the moon goddess, Your Highness. I cannot give my heart to a mortal and serve Her faithfully."

Damian frowned. "After the Blood Moon battle was over, Darrius searched for you. For weeks we combed every inch of the village and the mountains looking for you and other survivors. We found none.”

“I’m sorry he suffered, that you all suffered,” she said quietly. “We were separated after the first explosion, and he followed you to protect Anna.”

“Yes. But then he returned to the village to look for you. We found him unconscious in the woods. What happened?”

“The second explosion was practically under my feet. Maria and another priestess found me. They got me to the temple and sealed it against the invaders. My sisters cared for me, but it took a long time to heal. Even when I regained my full strength, I was left scarred. Too scarred, Damian.”

She was telling him the truth, but not all of it. Not the part where Darrius had found her fighting with Nefertiti—the soulless vampire who’d led the village attack. He took the poisoned blade meant for Alaya, and was felled. At the time, she hadn’t known he and his brothers were demi-gods.

Darrius shouldn’t have died.

But Nefertiti’s poison was created by a god, so it could kill a god.

After fatally stabbing Darrius, Nefertiti ran away, leaving Alaya to watch her true love die.

“You do a disservice to my brother,” said Damian. “Do you think he will judge you for your scars? He sees you with his heart.”

She knew that Darrius had loved her deeply, the same fervent way she’d loved him. But she couldn’t see him again. Not ever. It was the only way for him to live.

He had survived the poison, but demi-god or not, he wouldn’t survive the curse. A curse she’d gladly suffered to save his life.

“It doesn’t matter now. It’s been nearly a hundred years since the Blood Moon battle. Long enough for Darrius to forget his first love.”

“Are you saying that you forgot him?” Disbelief infused Damian's words.

No, she wanted to cry, never.

But what good would that do?

Damian wouldn’t undertstand—not unless she told him about the bargain she’d made. And if those words left her mouth, then Darrius would lose his life.

“Why can’t you tell Darrius you’re okay?” asked Kelsey gently. “There must be a reason why you’ve never contacted him. Are you protecting him?”

“I don’t have to,” said Alaya, ignoring Kelsey's last question. “We’re not mates.”

“You are.” Damian’s frustration was palpable. “At least from my brother’s perspective.”

The urge to tell them truth was nearly too much to bear. But she couldn’t give them the truth about that awful day. Certainly not how she’d made a bargain with Nemesis to save Darrius’ life.

She knew the royals too well. Not only would they call in Darrius, but Drake, too, and she’d have three pissed-off demi-god werewolves hunting down the goddess of divine retribution.

They would do everything in their power to break the curse, including put themselves in danger.

There’d been enough sacrificing.

Alaya closed her eyes and swallowed the knot clogging her throat. Even after all this time, she felt the pain of that day, the day she let Darrius go—to save him.

“What’s done is done," she finally said. "You must promise not to tell him about me.”

“I cannot.”

Alaya placed her gloved hand on his cheek. “Would you hurt him with the truth? What purpose would it serve now to tell him I live?”

Damian considered her words. She could tell by his expression that he was conflicted about keeping her secret. His instincts were no doubt screaming at him to be straight with Darrius—and let his brother deal with her.

“Please, Damian. Please.”

“I will honor your wish,” said Damian. “For now.”

After Damian and his mate left her office, Alaya felt restless, unnerved. She pulled off the veil and gloves, and tossed them onto the desk. Then she paced in front of the hearth.

“Zeus Almighty! The drama!”

Alaya whirled around and saw Nemesis sitting in the chair she’d vacated. Her sword lay against her thigh, her fingers draped over the hilt. The goddess of wrath was dressed in her usual outfit: a tight black leather vest and even tighter black leather pants, and shiny black boots.

Her long dark hair was woven into a long braid, and her face was porcelain beauty—strangely expressionless except for her eyes. Her eyes were black and within, burned twin flames representing wrath and judgment.

In other words, she was a bad bitch.

“What the hell do you want?” asked Alaya.

“Oh, the usual. Peace. Love. Torment.”

“I thought you only tormented on Saturdays.”

“I have a flexible schedule.” Nemesis lifted a black eyebrow. “So, your true love is within your grasp. It’s too bad about the whole dying thing. Remember, if he sees your face, our little bargain is nullified and poor Darrius—” She drew a finger across her throat and then pretended to cough and choke.

Giving up Darrius had been the most difficult thing she’d ever done. The price she paid to have his life restored—and no memory of his death—was to give him up.

She thought about Nemesis’s words every single day: The price for his life is his love. If he should ever see this face of yours again, he shall die.

It wasn't like Nemesis tried to save her life. After the goddess, left, Alaya had gotten caught in the explosion and nearly died herself.

“I’ll honor the terms of our bargain,” said Alaya. She glared at the goddess. “Stay away from him.”

Nemesis laughed. “I can go near him all I like. It’s you that needs to keep the distance.”

“I’m aware,” snapped Alaya. “Don’t you have something else to do? Like kick puppies and take candy from children?”

“Not in these modern times,” said Nemesis with a sigh. “Back in the old days, we could take the candy and the children.”

She rose from the chair and picked up her sword. “If Damian is reclaiming his kingship and his castle, you can count on his brothers making an appearance. It would be a shame if Damian’s first act as lycan king is to bury his youngest brother.”

“I get it, Nemesis,” said Alaya. “I’ll leave tonight. He won’t see my face. And FYI? I don’t want to see yours, either.”

“Aw, now you’ve hurt my feelings.” Nemesis winked. “See you soon, pooch.”

She disappeared.

Fury curled through Alaya. Making a bargain with Nemesis had opened the door to the goddess’s constant torture.

Whatever the goddess had once been—daughter of justice, balancer of good and evil, punisher of the heartless—she had turned into a seething mass of bitterness and cruelty.

What did it matter? Alaya would gladly pay the price again for the life of her true love. She hated that he grieved from her loss. Yet, it was better he believed her dead than track her down and lose his own life.

She grasped the locket around her neck and lifted it so she could unclasp the silver heart. Inside was a grainy black and white picture of Darrius. His smile wide. His eyes twinkling. His face oh-so-handsome.

“I love you,” she said, kissing the picture. “I always will.”