Unwanted Mate Of The Lycan Kings (by jessica hall)

Chapter 34

Later that night.

Regan has changed from his ruined suit and is now dressed more casually in jeans and a black shirt.

He glares across from me at the dinner table, and I have ignored his hateful gaze for the past half an

hour.

King Regan is still pissed off, and I spent most of the afternoon hiding in Shelley’s room once I found it.

I haven’t dared to return to my room out of worry that he would be waiting to make good on his threat.

Regan reaches for his glass of whiskey, swirling it in the glass before drinking it and holding his hand

out to the waiter wanting another. The waiter takes its rushing off when King Theron turns in his seat to

look at me.

“You are to meet Regan first thing in the morning at 9 AM; my sons usually have breakfast brought to

them, so just meet him in his room.” King Theron tells me, and I swallow nervously, knowing I would

have to spend an entire twenty-four hours with Regan. His lips turn up into a cruel smirk.

“Why wait, father? We might as well start the game now?” Regan growls, his lips tugging up into a

smirk. King Theron purses his lips, and I open my mouth to argue when King Theron speaks.

“See, why can’t you two be as eager to win her hand?” King Theron asks Lyon and Zeke. Zeke Text content © NôvelDrama.Org.

snickers, his lips turning up deviously, knowing Regan is probably plotting my death, not seeking my

hand unless it’s to remove it from my body.

“I rather cut mine off!” I tell him, not wanting to go anywhere near Regan with how he has spent all of

the dinner glaring at me.

“My King, you promised Zirah a night to herself?” Shelley steps in for me. King Theron glances at her,

and she drops her head, bowing slightly. King Theron huffs out a breath, and Shelley lifts her eyes to

meet mine. I suck in a breath, waiting for his answer.

“I did say that?” the King mumbles, and I chew my lip, waiting for him to answer.

“I think let her have a night to herself,” Lyon interrupts the King’s thoughts. Regan glares at him, and so

does Zeke, who leans forward in his chair to look around Regan.

“Yes, I’m sure she wants to get a good night’s rest after her adventures in the town today?” King

Theron says, looking at me. I nod my head quickly, keeping my gaze from Regan, who I can feel is

glaring at me, his aura making goosebumps rise on my arms.

“Very well, it’s settled then. Tomorrow at 9 AM, you are to meet Regan in his bedroom for breakfast but

remember, dinners are held together.”

He glances at each of his sons.

“That means all of you!” King Theron orders his sons. They grumble and growl but reluctantly nod, and

I pick up my spoon and taste the soup set out in front of me and nearly spit it out.

It’s scalding hot, but I manage to force it down. It’s chicken soup, and I am starving, hungry. The King

lays out the rules again while I dip my bread in the soup, only half listening, having heard it already.

Hearing the rules again wasn’t going to change the fact I was doomed no matter what! However, when

Malachi enters the dining room, the King looks up, his chair scraping as he pushes it out.

“The car is waiting, my king.” Malachi bows slightly. King Theron places his napkin on the table and

stands. He sighs, walking over to me. He puts his hand on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze.

“Give ’em hell, dear.” He winks at me, then walks off, followed closely by Shelley and Malachi. Turning

back to the table, I find all three Kings staring at me. Zeke smirks, and I move to leave when Regan

speaks.

“Dinners are to be spent together, or have you already forgotten the rules?” King Regan asks.

“Yes, as of tomorrow. So until then, I am done here!” I tell him, pushing my chair back.

“The dinner rules were never mentioned as to when it takes effect, only when you have to act as our

wife!” Zeke smirks, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest.

“Remember, human, if you break the rules, we get to punish you appropriately.” His eyes flash

menacingly. Regan’s eyes dart to Zeke briefly, and he presses his lips in a line, and I purse my lips.

“Fine then, hurry up. I want to go to bed!” I snap at them, folding my arms across my chest defiantly.

*******

Four Hours Later.

My ass is going numb, and my back is aching from sitting at this damn table for so long. They weren’t

even eating, just talking or fiddling with their phones, and every time I went to get up to leave, one of

the Kings would raise a brow or smirk and pick up something popping it into their mouths.

It’s 10 PM, and I am usually asleep by now. Yawning, I watch Zeke set down his bottle of liquor. He has

managed to down an entire one-liter bottle of rum. He wasn’t even using a glass, just drinking it straight

from the bottle. Lyon is also half drunk. Regan, however, has been nursing the same glass of whiskey

for the past hour. All the while, they pretend I’m not here until I move.

“Are we done?” I ask, and silence falls at the table. Their chatting dies down as they all turn their

attention to me. When they don’t answer, I push my chair out and tuck it back in. The moment I turn to

leave, Zeke moves with a speed that should be illegal! He steps in front of me, blocking my path, and I

sigh, annoyed.

“Zeke, move–” my words are cut off by his hand gripping my hair, and he jerks my head back, making

me hiss when my hair tug painfully.

“You dare address me by name?” He snarls at me.

“You’re not my King!” I spit back at him, clutching his hand when he cranes my neck back further.

“No? Then what am I?” he growls, and I glare at him, knowing he is looking for any reason to enact a

punishment, so instead, I bite back any of the profanities I want to spit at him. When I say nothing, he

smiles, his eyes flashing.

“Our father may be forcing us to participate in this little game of playing house with you, but that doesn’t

mean you can do what you want!”

“That goes for you too; last I checked, you’re supposed to be playing for my hand, I can tell you right

now. You were out of the running the moment I met you!” I sneer at him.

“You’ll be dead long before you have a chance to pick between us; the only hand we are playing for is a

hand in your death! If you haven’t noticed yet, my father is gone, none of the staff will help you, and

you’re without our wolves. Accidents happen, and no one here will question whether or not we have

reason to punish you or what that punishment should be.”

“I’ve done nothing wrong to warrant punishment!” I retort, and Zeke smiles.

“Haven’t you? Did we say you could leave?” He snarls, his eyes flickering dangerously. His breath

smells of rum. The liquor permeates off him, and I am learning quickly that Zeke isn’t safe to be around

sober yet drunk. He’s an entirely different sort of asshole, cruel.

“Zeke, let her go!” Regan growls.