III

“In the flesh,” the man grinned, revealing pearly white teeth and canines that would never quite recede fully. 

I had never met a lycan. They were the things of legends, almost. They weren’t natural, as in they were not born. They had to be turned, akin to the human mythology of werewolves. Lycans retained their full wolf form, but with greater strength, speed, and stealth in both skins. The mark of a lycan, though, came at a cost. They were more bound to the moon, as only the moon could turn a wolf to a lycan. The loss of an opportunity to find your mate, and near immortality.

Some would not see these as bad things. I, for one, had no mate out there waiting for me, and I had also experienced this world enough to have no desire sticking around forever. For others, the prospect of surrendering your mate, if you hadn’t met them yet, was usually enough to refuse the moon’s gift. For those that had found the one, they were bound to lose their mate sooner rather than later, never to meet them again. 

So, they were few in numbers, and lonely. No one understood how exactly some had the opportunity, but I had heard more stories of ones who refused it than those who accepted it. All those stories of how one was offered to be turned differed, so I had half a mind to think they were false. 

From my understanding, they lived nomadic lives, traveling as a pack to the places that needed the assistance of their skill. You knew things were bad when a lycan showed up. Rumor had it they ruled over werewolves once upon a time, but no history books agreed why that was no longer the case. 

“What are you doing here?”

“No date tonight?” he asked again. I shook my head, hoping the confirmation would gleen some more answers. He reached out, tugging at a strand of hair that had fallen out of its french braid, revealing the shaved sides of my head. I felt like each strand of hair had nerve endings. “But too sober for me to reveal my secrets.”

I didn’t think, turning to face him fully and gawk at him. But I needed to know. I maintained eye contact, noticing when his eyes flashed with curiosity at my heterochromia, and slammed back the rest of my drink. I caught the barkeep’s attention, motioning for another drink. He looked at me questioningly, but complied. I was small, I didn’t have much of an alcohol tolerance for a werewolf. Just a few of Cato’s heavy handed pours and I’d be crossing my fingers I didn’t end up in this abhorrently attractive wolf’s bed. Just the thought had my virgin heart fluttering.

“Adamant, aren’t we?” he laughed. “A better question, is what in the world are you doing here, Princess?”

I furrowed my eyebrows, trying to determine if he had found me out, or if it was simply a pet name when he didn’t know what I went by.

He continued to examine me as I withheld an answer, and I continued sipping from my third dirty shirley. I shied away from his hand, but it reached out to trace a jagged gash that peaked above the neckline of my shirt. Just with his touch, I could practically feel the skin knitting back together. I wondered if lycans possessed an ability to heal others. 

“Really,” he insisted. “You reek of blood, and whatever caused the smell was recent enough you aren’t nearly healed to be out and about yet. Given your size, I’m inclined to say partbred.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, but did not refuse his claims. “If you won’t give me but a hint, neither will I.”

He puffed out a sigh. “Fair. I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours?” 

“I asked first.”

I watched as his jaw ticked, clearly pondering his next words carefully. “A matter that requires the oversight of lycan law.”

I nodded slowly, cashing the information in a vault for me to review at a later date. 

“Well,” I drawled, conceding to the terms of our deal. “I am here because of a lycan law oversight.”

And with that, neither of us lied, and neither of us told the truth. 

I stood up, shoving the remainder of my drink to him. “It’s not spiked, you just saw me drinking from it.”

“A bit girly for my taste,” he pointed out, looking at it questioningly. 

“But you’re too manly to let good alcohol go to waste, aren’t you?” I jibed. “I’ll see you around.”

I would see him around. I knew that much. 

Because I was going home. 

I didn’t wait for his response, turning abruptly and stealing my way through the crowd. In the time we had been talking, closing time had crept closer, and things were dying down. 

The wintry air hit my face, but the sting of the cold wasn’t enough to shock away the fuzz I still felt was stuffed in my brain. I couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol, or the residual feelings of lust. 

But still, there was a prickling in my mind that maybe, just maybe, it was more than lust.

I pulled my phone out, searching out the name of the one person I could call. The phone rang, and I started praying she would actually pick up. 

“Make it quick,” a familiar voice crackled over the line. 

“Blair!” I nearly shrieked. 

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Maise? What’s wrong?”

I took a deep breath, trying to organize my thoughts before I spoke. “Do you have any idea what it would be like if a werewolf met their mate, but it was a lycan?”

“Uhm…” she mumbled. 

“Theoretically, of course.”

“Theoretically.” She rolled the word around on her tongue, drawing it out. “Well, theory is all we’d have to go with because it would be unprecedented. It’d have to be a lycan that was turned within the lifetime of the one who is still a werewolf, and I’d assume it’d just be the were that sensed hints of it. The lycan, though? Who knows. Maybe the myth that the moon can guide them to their heart’s desire is true.”

I glanced up to the sky, observing the phase of the moon. The full moon had just passed. But even then, that didn’t really matter. Blair was a witch, and the only true friend I had that I could be completely open with. I had met her in the very club I had just walked out of, and I stood not a chance of keeping any secrets from her due to her clairvoyance. Her specialty was in seeing the past, and drove her interest in history of all supernatural kinds. 

I’d just have to make sure she didn’t touch me for a while, at least until I forgot about this and had a guarantee the lycans would never cross my path again. 

I coughed and hacked, giving me a good excuse to get off the phone. I was honest with her - a few broken ribs that I think punctured a lung. I assured her I had come up on top, but she still insisted she would be stopping by with some sort of tonic tomorrow. I could feel myself healing slowly, but throwing some alcohol into the mix had been a bad plan. I needed to shift; healing was faster in wolf form. 

I was bent over in the sidewalk bushes spitting up blood when I was caught off guard. 

A swift kick to the offending ribs threw me off balance, rolling to the ground. It took me a moment to scramble to my feet and assess the threat, but I wasn’t quick enough. A fist came out of nowhere, sending my head whipping around and filling my vision with stars. 

This wasn’t my fighting style. I needed the element of surprise, especially against larger opponents, like this one. I stumbled back, trying to create space, and got enough of a look to recognize the beta from a pack I didn’t care to remember lunging for me again. 

“You cost me my life, you bitch!” he growled, pummeling into me. 

I cried out, the additional assault to my ribs too much to bear. I coughed, blood bubbling up on my lips. He kept me pinned on my back, giving the fluid no opportunity to escape my lungs. 

“I didn’t cost you anything,” I gurgled. “Your own choices did.”

It had to have been the pain causing the dark spots in my vision. I didn’t have long to escape, forget about turn the tables. 

I should have stayed home. I had survived eight years as the banished princess, but a butthurt beta would cost me my life. He would be too smart to leave me alive. 

I just needed a distraction. A distraction, and I could shift. I could shift and get away. 

But the blows stopped. The blotches in my vision prevented me from seeing why, but the familiar sounds of a fist making impact followed huffs, growls, and gasps, made it clear someone had come to save the day. 

I listened to the sounds of a fight, allowing myself a few rejuvenating breaths. I relaxed into my shift, not even caring that I would need to go out and buy a new “good” leather jacket. 

I didn’t hang around long enough to see who I owed my life to. 

I already knew.