LAYLA

My wrist throbbed where they had bound them behind my back, but the pain was nothing compared to the icy fear crawling up my spine.

The lights from the torches flickered and there , at the end he stood— the Lycan King.

I could see him only from behind at first. His back was broad, his stance one of absolute power. The long white sleeves he wore stretched over his shoulders clinging to muscles that bulged.

His hands were clasped behind him, giving me a glimpse of his hands thick with veins and strength.

The sleeves were rolled up, revealing a tattoo which danced in his lower arm. A...