Introduction
Vad händer om du ser din födslorätt tas ifrån dig, och inte bara av någon slumpmässig person, utan av någon som skulle vara med dig, älska dig, uppskatta dig och vara med dig resten av ditt liv.
Han är din partner men vill inte erkänna det eller dela äran med dig eller stå vid din sida, utan vill hellre skära av dig helt? Och inte ens vill ge dig en förklaring?
Är makt större än kärlek? Betyder termen själsfrände ingenting för honom?
Hur hjärtlös kan man vara?
Följ med på en resa av kärlek, hat och svek med Alejandro King, arvtagaren till tronen och den mest hatade varelsen i varulvsvärlden.
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Chapter 1
Skrik ekade i den tomma herrgården, en storm rasade, vindarna tjöt och himlen dundrade av ilska och vrede. Detta var inte rätt, inte det minsta, inte när hela artens framtid hängde på det.
Gudarna var arga, det var givet.
Detta var inte den tid som drottningen ville att hennes barn skulle födas, hon ville att han skulle komma in i denna värld med solen som sken ner på honom med sina mjuka strålar och fåglar som kvittrade lyckligt, och hela herrgården skulle fira födelsen av deras kung med kärlek, men det finns vissa saker som inte ens kungar och drottningar kan kontrollera.
Den klagande drottningen skrek av smärta, bad att denna tortyr skulle ta slut så att hon äntligen kunde hålla sitt barn i sina armar. Kungen var vid hennes sida, hjälpte henne bara genom att vara där. Han höll hennes hand, kysste hennes panna och viskade uppmuntrande ord i hennes öra, hoppades att lindra hennes smärta genom att hålla hennes armar och bad att han på något sätt kunde överföra all den smärtan till sig själv.
Läkare och sjuksköterskor fyllde platsen, sprang runt och gjorde vad de skulle, de gjorde allt i sin makt för att hjälpa till att föda barnet, så mycket som de hatade att göra detta, de var tvungna att göra det. De tittade på varandra och hade en tyst konversation sinsemellan om varför barnet inte var här ännu, eller vad det inte borde vara här, de vågade inte säga ett knyst av rädsla för sin kungs vrede.
"Lucian, snälla lova mig något," bad drottningen och höll sin mans hand, hon hade ett skikt av svett på sitt vackra ansikte, kungen som just nu var en make, lutade sig fram för att kyssa sin frus hand.
"Vad som helst, min älskling," försäkrade han henne och tittade på henne med djup kärlek och tillgivenhet.
Hon svalde ett skrik när förlossningssmärtan slog till henne tio gånger hårdare, barnet var på krigsstigen och dess första offer var hans mor. "Lova mig att du kommer älska vår son, precis som du älskar mig, och" ahhh skrek hon smärtsamt innan hon kunde avsluta sin mening "lova mig att du inte kommer tro på vidskepelsen som går runt om vår son, lova mig," bad hon honom att acceptera hennes önskningar, hoppades att han skulle värdera det över allt annat.
"Jag lovar dig, min älskling, vi kommer tillsammans att uppfostra detta barn med kärlek och omsorg och inte låta något hända honom, så länge vi båda lever," han kysste hennes huvud med beundran i detta ögonblick av liv och död, hennes enda oro var hennes ofödda barn.
Drottningen gav ut ett annat hjärtskärande skrik som förstärkte volymen av den dundrande bombardemanget. Med tiden bröts tystnadens sköld av ett barns skrik, en oskyldig spädbarn som skrek sitt hjärta ut, läkarna och sjuksköterskorna höll det vackra skrikande barnet i sina armar medan de klippte navelsträngen och rengjorde det blodiga barnet.
"Det är en pojke, Ers Majestät," meddelade läkaren med ett falskt leende, men de nyblivna föräldrarna brydde sig inte om det, inte många människor tyckte om barn som en dag skulle härska över dem.
Kungen tittade på sin utmattade hustru, trött, och ändå hade hon detta varma leende på sitt ansikte som ökade hans stolthet. Han lutade sig ner för att kyssa sin hustru på läpparna, men den här gången svarade de inte. Hans hjärta brast vid synen av sin stilla hustru.
Han skrek ut, hans inre varg ylade av smärta vid förlusten av sin själsfrände. Han gnällde och grät över sin förlust, han höll sin makas kropp och grät som ett barn, först då insåg han att han också hade en son.
Han ropade på läkaren som var alldeles för tyst för hans smak, "Var är min son?" morrade han vid den tomma vaggan. Han kanske var i smärta, men han visste att han ännu inte hade fått sitt barn, vilket läkaren hade misslyckats med att göra.
"Min kung, barnet är svagt, hans lungor sviktar, några av våra bästa läkare arbetar hårt för att hjälpa honom," stammade läkaren, men hon verkade mer nervös än rädd.
"Hjälp honom, gör vad du kan, och rädda min son," beordrade han den darrande läkaren. Hon nickade och lämnade rummet, som nu fylldes av sorgens luft.
Han höll sin döda hustru i sina armar och drog henne närmare, kysste hennes huvud. "Jag lovar dig, min älskade, han kommer att bli älskad och respekterad, och en dag kommer han att härska över denna värld som en av de största kungar någon någonsin har sett," släppte han sin hustru efter att ha gett en sista kyss, detta var ett farväl.
Han gick in på intensivvårdsavdelningen för spädbarn bara för att se sin son vara ansluten till livsuppehållande maskiner. Synen smärtade honom på en ny nivå, förlusten av hans hustru hade ännu inte helt slagit honom, och han var inte redo att förlora sin son också.
"Min kung?" den knappt fem fot långa läkaren ropade till den sex fot långa renblodiga varulven. Hon var rädd för att meddela nästa nyhet hon hade upptäckt.
"Vad är det?" frågade han utan att släppa sin son med blicken. Han kanske var liten och för tidigt född, men han var en syn att skåda, en sann skönhet precis som sin mor.
"Vi upptäckte något om prinsen, min kung, jag tror inte att ni kommer att gilla det," sa hon utan att titta på hans ansikte, utan snarare på de vita kakelplattorna.
Kungen hade förberett sig för denna dag, han kände till riskerna med att ha barnet, så det var anledningen till att han hade omvandlat hela våningen i sitt palats till ett sjukhus så att hans hustru och barn inte skulle behöva åka iväg för behandling.
"Säg det bara, jag önskar inte att du ska linda in det, säg vad du har att säga," stod han där och tittade på sin son utan att ge läkaren en enda blick.
"Min kung, jag är rädd att ni inte kommer att gilla denna nyhet," hon pausade men pausen fick inget svar. "Han är född utan en varg, min herre, han är född med ett odjur."
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SimiB
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