His Lycan Highness

Leila's visit became a routine. 

She came in the mornings after Luna Aurora had come to check on me and told me stories of her travels to Greece and other cities I hadn't even heard of. 

Half of the time I didn't understand the words she spoke so rapidly, but I got comfortable with her over the duration of a few days and even anticipated her visit.

The next day after her first visit to me, I woke up to find that the living room attached to my spacious bedroom had been redecorated and lilac flowers placed beside the air purifier.

Then the next two days a new line of clothes and shoes of vibrant colours filled the walk in closet.

It confused me how someone that young could possess so much authority over a group of people and command things to be done, 

But I was even more shocked at her words that I even had more power than she did. 

Apparently my father was the lycan crown prince before although from her tone, they didn't talk about him around here anymore.

Which pushed questions in my mind; was he alive? What had happened to him? Had he taken a part in my mother's tragedy?

Or was it the same role I had unconsciously played in her death by virtue of being born a werewolf?

At this point, emotions of guilt and shame played in my mind; I couldn't forget so easily that these people had killed my mum, yet I hated that I was starting to get comfortable with this life.

Two human girls supervised by a werewolf were assigned to care for my needs.

 They ran a bubble bath in the expansive jacuzzi, making me wake up to sweet smelling fragrance and healing herbs for my skin. 

A meal and a dress were set before I stepped out of the bathroom and a physician attended to me as soon as I had taken breakfast.

I had also finally succumbed to Leila's pestering and started taking evening walks with her, although they lasted for a few minutes because I was still scared of meeting outsiders.

Following the trauma I had suffered, everyone had been instructed to steer clear of the acres of lands, and it felt strange each evening I walked silently with Leila and stared at the huge castle that was now my home.

And somehow I had become a fairytale Cinderella.

But then, something happened.

The lycan King, Lord and Master of all werewolf territories visited me on Friday morning.

As soon as he stepped into my living room, I felt it in me; it was he who had given orders to have my mother killed.

He moved with the grace of a panther; calculative graceful steps of a predator used to stalking his prey, enjoying the thrill of a chase before finally swallowing them up.

I felt trapped in the power of his aura, and swallowed hard, taking a step backwards as he towered over me.

It was his overpowering scent and aura and everything else which announced the presence of a general who commanded authority and had his statues exercised.

It was his tall stature and strength of his disciplined body; broad shoulders and powerful muscles.

It was that pair of deep cynical grey eyes which didn't take excuses for tardiness and the powerful smell of fur overpowering my senses.

He had been there that evening my mother was murdered, he had also attended the funeral.

I would recognise that scent as long as I lived, it would always bring memories of the day everything had been taken from me.

My body flinched and I took another step backwards, swallowing a lump of nervousness.

Those authoritative hard lips parted and lifted upward slowly. 

"I knew you would remember me. Have a seat, Artemis."

He was nothing like what I had expected of my grandfather; he was more like my king and I was subject to his decrees. 

Although his scent was returning nights of migraines and terrible dreams, I slumped into the cushion because I was incapable of disobeying him.

I felt...compelled, and the amusement in his eyes told me everything I needed to know about how he was feeding on my fears.

A born predator.

Somehow my palms came to clasp together in his presence, my heartbeat high, and fast.

He took the couch, piercing grey eyes regarding me for a moment before he spoke again.

 "I haven't come to see you before now because I was giving you time to recover. It is good that you're taking walks now."

Interesting. 

He supposed we could talk about things like the weather? 

Hell, this man had been at the crime scene of my mother's death and now he was my grandfather and King?

Beneath the powering emotion of fear was slowly building fury spreading through my heart. Burning, and dark.

"Are your rooms to your liking? I learnt that your cousin had the living room redecorated. Seems more lively."

My heart was racing now at the audacity of his guts to make useless small talks as if he hadn't done me any wrong. 

Yet I found that I couldn't raise my voice at him even as it irked me to be in his presence.

Of all the arrogant assholes, my grandfather topped the list.

"Artemis?"

I looked up to him, hating that there was a hint of resemblance between us. 

With my bangs and contacts gone, my high cheekbones were prominent as well as my long pointed nose.

My grandfather possessed those striking features, along with a little grey hair which was the only give away at his age.

"You know I recognise you, yet you act like it never happened."

 I finally found the voice to speak; softly, unable to pour out my frustration as well as I wanted to.

 My inability to stand against his power was killing me.

His response was a fucking dirty smirk, his head tilted to the side.

 "And in addition to having great sixth sense, you are feisty as well. Interesting. I'm willing to forgo the shame of my granddaughter having her royal blood tainted by a mere human, we can call it even then, right?"

Fuck, I had to count down to hundred to keep this temptation to lose control and attack...

I clenched and unclenched my fists, his eyes darted sharply to my palms and narrowed.

"You shouldn't have killed her."

 Nor was my mother a fucking mere human. She had birthed and loved me and this man had dared believe he could decide who got to live.

And apparently he did have that power. The son of a bitch...

"She fucking thought she knew what was best for a lycan; wasn't enough that she dared seduce my son, the lycan crowned prince. A mere human servant. We gave her a choice, Artemis, but she chose to flee with you. Would you rather have lived in the dirty streets like a shameful pauper?"

Hell,

Fuck...

efore I could stop myself, tears were streaming down my cheeks, blurring my vision from this ass whose blood ran in my veins. 

Even now I felt a connection to him and hated that I was so fucking weak against him. 

He had killed my mother for not giving me up and had the guts to stare into my eyes and spew so much garbage.

"Maybe you should have trained your son better to keep it in his fucking pants! Don't fucking blame my mother for your failure."

He was seething in fury and rose to his full intimidating height, his eyes narrowed in dismay, disbelief clouding his features. 

I also didn't know where I had found the courage, but between crying and being so angry and frustrated at him, I had no regret even as he tilted his head upwards.

"Kneel before your King, Artemis." A deep growl tore from his throat, flashes of fury beaming in his eyes.

"No, apologise for speaking lowly of my mother, you do not mock her death." 

Something else was taking over me, an emotion familiar to when I had attempted to flee from Xavier.

I wasn't in control of my actions anymore and under normal circumstances couldn't have dared stand against that high level of power.

But I rose to my tall frame which was average in comparison to his.

My head tilted upwards of its volition, crimson red flashing before my eyes.

"Artemis Kastellanos, as your king and Alpha of the lycan pack, I, King Athanasius Kastellanos command YOU to kneel."

But as a final act of defiance, I felt myself shift.

For the first time.