The Play-Toy Of Three Lycan Kings-Chapter 385: Bloodlust II

SAGE

The pain came in waves sharp enough to steal breath, then thought, then language.

It felt as if my insides were tearing themselves apart and rebuilding wrong, like bones grinding to find new places, like veins unraveling and being threaded again by hands that did not care how much it hurt.

I screamed until my throat went raw, until the sound fractured into something animal and humiliating, until even that was swallowed by the agony.

"What is happening to me," I sobbed, nails scraping uselessly against the floor.

No answer came.

I cursed the goddess first, loud and vicious, words spat with all the bitterness I’d swallowed over the years. I cursed Malek next, hope flaring stupidly that she might hear, that she might intervene.

Nothing.

I reached for her anyway, desperate, flinging my mind outward, searching for that familiar resistance, that divine pressure.

There was nothing to grasp.

"Cowards," I gasped, the word ripped from me as another convulsion bent me nearly in half. "All of you—"

El.

I turned inward, reaching for the one presence that seemed more reliable. "El," I begged. "What is this? Tell me what is happening. Tell me how to stop it."

Silence.

Panic clawed its way up my spine. "Don’t do this," I hissed, tears streaming down my face. "You don’t get to go quiet now. You don’t get to leave me when—"

Still nothing.

Rage bloomed, hot and reckless. "Fine," I snarled into the empty air. "Fine. Go silent too. Just like the rest of them."

My body twisted violently, pain detonating low in my abdomen and racing upward, white-hot and blinding. I screamed again, the sound breaking off into a strangled sob as my forehead hit the floor.

Then—movement. Not pain. Not magic. Sound.

Footsteps. Subtle, distant, carried through the house with a clarity that made my breath hitch.

My ears caught it easily, frighteningly easily, mapping the cadence without effort. Two sets. Heavier than Isla’s. Familiar in a way that sent dread spiraling through me.

Scent followed.

Adam—but not Adam.

His brothers. Noah and Daniel.

My chest seized. That was why Isla had come bursting into my room earlier. That was what she’d been trying to tell me before I turned into something she couldn’t recognize.

They were here to see me.

Why, my mind wondered weakly, even as my body convulsed again.

The question barely formed before pain tore through me anew, sharper than before, crueler. I screamed, the sound echoing down the corridor.

Footsteps quickened.

"No," I gasped. "No, no, no—"

Magic flared instinctively, wild and unrefined. I flung it at the door without thought, sealing it shut, weaving layer upon layer until the wood hummed under the force of it. Impenetrable. Absolute.

They couldn’t see me like this. They couldn’t see what I was becoming.

"I have to get out," I whispered, even as my body betrayed me again, slamming me back down onto the floor.

I dragged myself toward the window inch by inch, palms burning, vision blurring. Freedom was right there. Somewhere I could break apart without witnesses.

But my legs gave out.

I collapsed, a choked cry ripping from my throat as my muscles locked, refusing to obey. I couldn’t even sit up anymore. I lay there shaking, helpless, the hunger rising again like a second heartbeat.

Blood.

Another spasm tore through me, so violent it knocked a sob loose from my chest. A single tear slid sideways into my hair, hot and useless.

"This isn’t fair," I whispered, the words dissolving as soon as they were born.

Darius. El’s voice cut through the pain at last, sharp and sudden.

I almost laughed, the sound hysterical. "Now you speak," I snapped inwardly. "He’s gone. You know that. Don’t mock me."

He could help, El insisted.

"He is gone," I shouted in my mind, fury lancing through the fear. "Gone. So unless you plan on leaving my body..."

You both have ancient magic, El said calmly, and the steadiness of her tone made something cold slide into place inside me.

You are almost ancient yourself. I believe that is what is happening. You are stepping fully into being an ancient.

The words hit harder than any spasm.

"No," I breathed. "No."

My mind raced, terror blooming into something vast and suffocating. Ancient. The word carried weight, consequence. Isolation.

Sunlight.

"Does that mean," I asked hoarsely, "that I won’t be able to walk under the sun without the Absetum?"

The thought sliced through me, grief sharp and unexpected. Sunlight meant normalcy. It meant mornings. It meant pretending I was still part of the world as it was.

El didn’t hesitate. Reach out to him.

I let out a broken laugh. "How," I demanded. "How am I supposed to do that? I can’t even stand."

Through a mind path, El replied. Try to access him.

"That’s impossible."

Her presence shifted, something like exasperation rippling through the bond. You are impossible.

Before I could argue, she took control.

It was like my mind cracked open. Not violently—but completely.

Barriers I hadn’t known existed fell away, and suddenly my awareness stretched outward, racing along a thread that glowed faintly with recognition. Information poured through it—fear, pain, identity, need—compressed into something raw and urgent.

Darius.

I saw him in my mind’s eye, far away, somewhere unfamiliar. A room that smelled of polished wood and old smoke. A hotel, of all things.

He stiffened suddenly, hand curling into a fist as my presence slammed into his consciousness.

He looked around, sharp and alert, eyes narrowing.

He knew a presence was there. Might even suspect I was the one.

Without wasting any second, drained every nanosecond, I offloaded my pain and questions into his mind. And I let the thread go before fear could make me cling to it.

The connection snapped back into me, leaving my head ringing.

"How long," I panted, writhing as El took control of my body to blunt the worst of the spasms. Even dulled, the pain was monstrous. "How long before he’s here?"

Soon, El said.

Soon was five minutes.

I barely registered the passage of time, only the sudden shift in the air, the way the room seemed to inhale and hold it. A presence seeped in first, cool and thick like fog.

Mist coalesced near the foot of the bed. Then solidified.

Darius.

He moved fast, crossing the room in a blink, dropping to the floor beside me. Strong hands lifted my head gently, settling it against his thigh. The touch grounded me in a way nothing else had.

"What is the problem," he asked quietly, voice steady despite the urgency crackling beneath it.

Before I could answer, there was a heavy thud against the door. Voices followed, muffled but sharp with concern.

"Sage," Noah called. "Open the door."

"We have to go," Darius said, already making a decision. His hand brushed my hair back, eyes searching my face. "Do you trust me?"

I didn’t hesitate. I nodded.

I shut my eyes and let myself go—for the first time in six years, I stopped holding myself together.

The world fell away.