Stolen by the Beastly Lycan King-Chapter 151: Throats, Part I

The battle horn tore through the air once more, a thunderous blast that reverberated across the land and shook the earth beneath their feet. This time, it was impossible to ignore—the unmistakable signal of the Beast Kingdom’s readiness to fight.

Rhaegar’s narrowed amber eyes swept across the battlefield, his gaze relentless as it scoured every corner for any trace of Lorelai.

She had vanished before his very eyes, her absence clawing at him with an unbearable ache. His heart thundered against his ribs, its frantic rhythm urging him to move, to act, to do something. Yet no matter how hard he looked, no matter how desperate his search, she was nowhere to be found.

Daro, however, was growing impatient.

His legs moved of their own accord, the distance between him and the lycan king shrinking with each step. His gilded sword gleamed ominously in his hand, the blade trembling faintly as if it could sense the presence of another weapon forged from "King’s Gold."

The vibrations were erratic, wild, and uncontrolled—a clear sign to Rhaegar that the man wielding it was far from ready to embrace its true power.

"So, King?" Daro drawled, his sneer cutting through the tension like a blade. He raised his sword, pointing its tip directly at Rhaegar.

Rhaegar frowned, his expression hardening as he tore his gaze away from the battlefield. He turned to face his men, his voice sharp and commanding as he barked, "Abandon all your belongings and shift!"

The beasts, lined up beside the carriages and caravans, froze for a moment before bowing their heads in unison.

"You will reach the capital faster in beast form than on horseback," Rhaegar continued, his tone leaving no room for argument. Then, his piercing gaze landed on Naveen. "Naveen!"

The witch stiffened, her cold blue eyes meeting his as he jerked his head toward Alim, who stood silently at her side.

"Alim will take you on his back in his wolf form. I want no objections. Execute the orders now."

Naveen hesitated for the briefest moment, her lips parting as if to argue, but she quickly thought better of it. Instead, she nodded sharply, stepping closer to Alim, whose form began to ripple as the transformation overtook him.

Without further delay, the rest of Rhaegar’s men followed suit.

The sounds of bones snapping and sinews stretching filled the air, a grotesque symphony of raw power and primal transformation. Their human forms dissolved, replaced by massive, wild beasts whose sheer presence radiated dominance and ferocity.

Daro, who had never witnessed such a mass transformation before, winced as the deafening sound of bones snapping and sinews twisting filled the air.

The grotesque sounds of shifting bodies blended into one nauseating cacophony, each crack and groan grating against his nerves. He swallowed hard, forcing down the bile threatening to rise in his throat.

But then his gaze met Rhaegar’s—a sharp, piercing glare that burned with unyielding intensity. Refusing to show weakness, Daro masked his discomfort, his lips curling into a twisted, mocking grin.

"So, this is your grand choice, huh?" he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "Sending your beasts off to save your kingdom while you stay here and play the noble king? I thought you animals were supposed to rip throats apart for the sake of your mates."

Rhaegar didn’t immediately respond. Instead, he cast one final glance at his pack. The hulking, fully-transformed beasts stood ready, their massive forms brimming with raw power and ferocity. With a brief but deliberate nod, he gave the silent command. In unison, the pack surged forward, a thunderous stampede of claws and muscle racing toward the capital.

Only when the last of his men disappeared into the horizon did Rhaegar turn back to face Daro.

His movements were slow, deliberate, as though savoring the moment before the storm. He raised his sword, its golden blade catching the light and glinting ominously as he leveled it to meet Daro’s weapon.

Daro’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with malice. "But then again," he continued in a venomous tone, "maybe it’s just you, King Rhaegar. After all, betraying the important women in your life for power is nothing new to you, is it?"

The taunt hung in the air, sharp and poisonous. Daro’s laughter followed, a sickening sound that twisted through the tension like a blade. It was the kind of laughter meant to provoke, to unnerve.

Rhaegar’s jaw tightened, but his expression remained calm, his focus unshaken.

"Your attempts to sting me are truly pathetic, Daro," he said, his voice cutting through the laughter like ice. "I shouldn’t be surprised, though. It takes a pathetic creature to ally himself with other monsters who are just as weak and desperate as he is."

For a moment, Daro’s confident façade cracked. His lips twitched, his grin faltering ever so slightly. The reaction didn’t go unnoticed, and Rhaegar’s lips curved into a faint, sardonic smirk.

"I am King before I am anything else," Rhaegar continued steadily. "That’s a responsibility worms like you could never comprehend. But don’t misunderstand me—I am still an ’animal,’ as you so eloquently put it. And when I set out to bring back my mate, there won’t be a single throat left untouched in my path."

The words were spoken with quiet intensity, each syllable a sign of promised violence.

Rhaegar’s stance shifted slightly, his body coiling like a predator ready to strike. The golden blade in his hand glimmered, as though anticipating the clash to come.

Daro let out a low chuckle, his bravado returning in full force.

"Big words for a king who abandoned his gypsy roots and sold his soul to a throne," he spat, his tone mocking. "But let’s see if your fancy sword can live up to the legend of ’King’s Gold.’"

Rhaegar’s expression didn’t waver. Instead, he raised his blade slightly, its tip catching the light as he leveled it at the man before him. His next words were calm, almost chillingly so. "Then show me, Daro. Show me how insects like you handle the power of the King’s Gold."

The air between them seemed to thicken. Every muscle in their bodies tensed, their eyes locked in a deadly stare. The battlefield seemed to hold its breath, the world narrowing until only the two of them existed, swords poised and ready to decide their fates.

And then, without warning, they moved.