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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Midnight not only heard the gunshot but felt the bullet lodge itself in Evan's heart and a cruel thought came to haunt him despite how hard he fought to push back those awful memories. The pain he felt was the same agony his mother had experienced when her husband shot her in the heart with a silver bullet. Now, Midnight was forced to feel his lover die and the familiar pain returned though it was different this time, not only because his soul was bound to Evan's but because of how he felt towards the werewolf. They hadn't known each other very long and Midnight knew better than anyone that it didn't really matter, they knew what they needed to know about each other in order to proceed into a relationship.
He let out a choked sob, filled with frustration and anger as he turned his silver eyes in the direction of the gunshot. Those around him didn't pay much attention to a gun going off considering that it was just one of many, yet Midnight knew that it was different. A cold feeling washed over him, like the warmth fled his body and left his veins felt like they were flowing with ice. Anyone who got in his way was killed instantly, a single bullet to the head, or he'd wave his spear, cutting their throats with the sharp, glinting tip. His body vibrated as the power of the spear coursed through him, turning his blood to steel. Evan would be alright, there was no other option available, the blonde was simply badly injured and needed some help in healing. He would be fine. It wasn't impossible for a werewolf to survive a bullet to the heart, and if there was one werewolf in existence that defied all the knowledge obtained by the Church of the centuries, it was Evander Rue. At least that's what Midnight told himself, so he didn't set the entire world on fire. If Evan didn't live, he'd kill everyone and everything, he couldn't lose someone else so soon. Someone so important. The blonde was too close to his heart, he was tangled in every aspect of Midnight's life and had taken over his life the day he approached him in school, demanding that he tutor him despite how physically repulsed Evan had been to even be breathing the same air as Midnight.
The memory forced Midnight to move faster, not caring that he was covered in blood or that he looked like a soulless demon on a rampage. Perhaps that was what he was, a demon demanding retribution for all his pain and suffering. At the moment there was only one thing in the world that he wanted. Unfortunately for him, that one thing lay on the ground, unmoving, while a hole in his chest sizzled from the allergic reaction werewolves had to silver. When he looked up he saw Kane Grosvenor glaring at him with emerald eyes that held no other emotion except for resentment. The green reminded Midnight of snake scales which was fitting because that's exactly what Kane was, a snake who needed to be beheaded.
