Book One in the Lycan Chronicles
Evander Rue had his entire life planned out even before he was born. He grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth and parents who never had time for him. A family who barely called or cared for him left him to be rais...
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The Alpha curled his upper lip as he ventured to remain in command of his temperament; he was far too old and experienced to succumb to the nature of the beast. Perhaps that might have been the rationale for something like this happening to him of all werewolves. As an Alpha, he prided himself in being able to protect his pack as much as he could from hunters, knights, and rogues. The dead bodies in front of him, dismembered and torn apart by claws and teeth, were not something deserving of an Alpha who had earned a well-earned respect when others spoke his name knowingly. The stench of blood, innards and other bodily fluids plundered the air of the Alpha's throne room. The bodies had been there for a few hours, indicating that they had been killed an hour or two before sunrise while the pack was on the other side of the territory. His blue eyes were blazing, teeth elongated, and nails extended into sharp claws that resembled daggers. Never in all of his history had he been disrespected in such a distasteful manner.
Thirty!
Thirty of his pack members had been massacred right under his nose. They had been a pack of forty, meaning that more than the majority of his pack was dead. He knew it couldn't have been the hunters nor the knights; there were no traces of silver nor wolfsbane. The attack was too clean for it to have been rogues, and all of his members were accounted for. No, whoever had done this was a foe he had not yet faced. Inhaling deeply, Alekséy turned to glare at his Beta, Cowen, whose blue eyes were just as bright as his.
"How could this have happened?" He seethed, his Russian accent slightly faded from his time in the states.
"I don't know. It had been a day like any other, then the full moon came, I had gone hunting with Kabira, and that is where my memory ends." Cowen stroked his dark beard pensively. "I can't detect any foreign scent on them. Can you?"
"Vaguely, it is similar to the scent of older werewolves, like the Elders and I carry."
"Do you think it was the Elders who did this?" Cowen raised a querying brow.
Alekséy had no need to think it over for long, "No. They had no reason to. Besides, if they wanted to insult me, they wouldn't have killed my pack. Akela knows more creative ways to make me lose my temper like a newborn pup."
