The Cursed Lycan

The Cursed Lycan

By:  Carrel  Ongoing
Language: English
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(this story is being updated slowly) After causing the death of his older brother, Kairo, the Alpha's second son is stripped of his title, severely punished, cursed and banished to the human realm where he would remain as a rogue Lycan for five millenia. For centuries on every full moon the Lycan would rise from his induced slumber and prey on those that live beyond his dark woods. Fearing for their lives, the humans began to offer mortal sacrifices to the beast in an attempt at pleasing it. One unfortunate evening, the Lycan finds himself before his next human meal. But what stands between him and the sacrifice is his human mate. A deaf hunter.

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14 chapters
01
warning; nonconsent  There is a mute sort of pleasure found lying in one’s own filth - defecation and urine leaving bodily imprints on the cold concrete floor. The whip marks are still fresh and open, raw gilded flesh hanging from the body like feathers from a dreamcatcher, slowly weeping blood. "Mother." The only constant sound in the swallowing darkness is that of a sentenced prisoner, somewhere in the dungeon's corner. Like a reminder, it keeps Kairo's fading mind straight while he teeters on the brink of absolute insanity. A steep fall he knew he’d approach soon enough. His body burns and aches in regions he did not know existed. The length of his back, which was once clothed in royal robes, is now bare and slick with divine blood; his torso is matted with blackening bruises and skin protrusions along the dome of his ribcage, indicating just how many bones had been fractured, the ragged edges now pressing against the barr
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02
The wintry morning wind presses gently on Leya's numb red cheek, soft wisps of dark hair falling over her scrutinizing bright cerulean eyes. With a petulant huff, she blows the dark curl away only for gravity to place it back in position. Leya sighs into the autumn air, a small cloud of mist swirling tentatively over her flushed lips. She sniffs once and adjusts the heavy camo jacket she wears, snow crunching noisily beneath her figure as a result. For once, Leya does not mind the disruptive noise as she had been crouched on her belly in the same position for three gruelling hours. The Forest had been silent, so much so she checked her hearing aids just to confirm that they indeed still worked. The previous night's Blizzard had settled into a soft hiss of snowflakes falling sporadically and scarcely over the bare woodlands. Winter would be arriving and most wild animals, at least the large ones, would have either migrated or holed up i
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03
The axe swings hard, flashing silver through the thin wintry air before making contact with the tree trunk. The impact sends a violent shudder up Leya’s arms, rippling like dark wings along her shoulder blades and meeting at the base of her spine.Her flushed lips part in an exhale of light air, doodles of faint clouds escaping into the afternoon air and she steps back to squint up at the tall tree. Precariously, it leans on one tenuous end before tilting backwards with a final groan of submission.It creaks whilst falling, the crashing sound thundering through the forest as birds squawk and soar from their nests in fright - but Leya doesn’t hear them. In such moments, she would have yelled a theatrical ‘Timber!’ as most lumberjacks do, but the silence she finds herself in is comforting and her body feels achy like a whipped dog, throat parched from the day's work.She releases the axe handle and treads towards the felled tree. The heavy
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04
 Leya knows she is hearing things, perhaps even seeing things out of the corner of her eye, for her power of observation developing fully in the woods is triggered by stimuli so slight as to be subliminal, nagging her nerve endings, forcing her to clutch the rifle even tighter in her cold, trembling hands.The snow is heavy, pounding on her drenched head like a hammer, beating down her clothes, trailing down her face and into her eyes. She blinks and purses her lips while slowly swiveling around; the rifle’s stock rests firmly on her shoulder, her clammy cheek pressing stiffly on the bolt handle. Leya trudges through shallow puddles of melted snow and rain, the wind a sadistic, menacing force that whips at her face with delight. Her boots step over wet leaves and crunching snow, and she uses the rifle’s muzzle to nudge aside low h
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05
Lying beneath broken mosaic patterns of autumn’s withering leaves, Leya feels something rough brush on the tip of her nose.  The dull, dappling sun spots purple and black hues under her dark eyelids. Her eyes shift back and forth restlessly, soot-black lashes fluttering when the rough tongue is replaced by an insistent, cold paw on her cheek, her nose, her eye.  Meow. Mustard’s impatient noises pull her from her state of unconsciousness on the forest floor. He whines again, bending low to bop the soft crown of his face on hers, rubbing, purring, then meowing his demands for his unusually late breakfast. Leya stirs with a sibilant intake of breath, eyes peeling open just as the cat rubs his face on hers once more. He bares his teeth as if threatenin
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06
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Holland’s worry-filled voice echoes from the other end of the phone. Leya sighs for the umpteenth time despite the slight fluttering in her chest at the prospect of him being worried about her. “I am,” she whispers although her mind isn’t entirely moved by the words that leave her. At his prolonged silence, she opts for a higher pitch in her voice, hoping to convince him and in turn, convince herself. “Really, Holland, I-I’m fine.” Shuffling sounds echo from his side, the opening of a door, ringing of telephones in the precinct. “Christ, Ley,” he sighs and although she cannot see him, his defeated tone paints a vivid picture of the man slumped in his seat, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I should have been there… if I was there-” “It’s okay,” she mumbles while movi
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07
Kairo stands in the small white room that is unfamiliar to him.  His rough palm skims over the cool walls, smoothing down the countertops and pausing to press fleeting fingertips against different, odd-looking machinery. His expression flashes from light to dark like schools of fish drifting and casting shadows upon his countenance; awe to intimidation, then slight vexation as he moves from one corner of the room to the next.  Kairo pauses before a white looking box, square, with a shadowed glass as the screen. Curiously, he leans down and presses his face to the glass, lips parted and nostrils flaring as his lungs expand with each searching breath.  It smells like… food. His wandering fingers press on the
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08
Leya’s eyes flash in the door’s direction, then back at the naked man centred in her living room. He watches her, golden eyes darkening to that of glittering black, like raw hunks of mica under sunlight.  “I know you’re in there, Ley!”  More pounding on her door.  Leya’s tongue darts out and circles her suddenly dry lips. The man does not move from his position, simply gauging her in a sadistic, taunting manner whilst his head tilts in the slightest, ear positioned towards the door. Her stomach clenches along with the rifle she holds. Caught between a hard place and a wall, Leya finds herself requesting of him something she did not think possible; “Don’t move.” Read more
09
Leya had slapped him.  Hard. The intensity of her winding and falling hand had never been more brutal, such that even hours later the skin of her palm still stung.  She did not reach for the gun this time around, perhaps realizing that her threats were as empty and baseless as a void drum. Instead, Leya rose sharply as the chair shrilled on the wooden floor and she had shoved him out of the cabin, face flushed in utter horror, body tingling in a manner of discomfort at his blatant, tasteless intimacy. Seeing her expression then - something akin to bemusement and curiosity - stopped the man from resisting her actions. He did not push back with his brute strength and instead let her jostle him out of the house and into the night. There, she slammed the door s
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10
Leya had never given anyone a bath, let alone an adult man.Standing in the small confines of the cabin’s bathroom, she did not realize just how constricting space was, not until Kairo stepped inside.His shoulders seem to hunch inwards as well, the top of his head angled down to prevent grazing the ceiling. He looks uncomfortable but Leya feels nothing close to sympathy for the large man.“I’m assuming you’ve never had a bath,” Leya murmurs as she carefully manoeuvres around the man, wary not to touch his dirt-stained body. Setting the bucket down in one corner of the shower, she drops a scrubbing brush inside, bar of soap, bottle of two in one shampoo, scrubbing gloves, three razors and a nail cutter.She feels him shift somewhere to her side and her eyes slant to peer at the man gazing at the showerhead now at his height. His glancing fingers pick at random bottles aligned on the racks then pops them open before tentativel
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