Cursed Lycan's Scarred Mate
Chapter 79: The truth about the massacres [2]

Chapter 79: The truth about the massacres [2]

"You are not them," Ronan argued, bringing her head to rest on his shoulder. "You will never be anything like them. I see that now, sweetheart."

Ronan decided to be truthful after all. It was futile to conceal the actual reasons behind his rejections thus far. Vivian deserved to know why he held such an aching grudge deep within him, which he subconsciously directed at her.

"I admit that I was sceptical about you before because of your Moonborn bloodline," Ronan confessed, his face buried in the jasmine-scented strands of her hair. "I should never have doubted you of anything, but the scars of that day are so deep and tormenting."

There was pure rage in his words rather than sorrow.

The Lycan Alpha was hurting so very deeply. Just how scarred was this man that he had to explain and justify himself for something that was never his fault to begin with?

Pulling back, Vivian cupped the back of his head and brought their foreheads to touch. Her fingers delved into the coarse strands of his curly hair, rubbing comfortingly across his scalp. The sensation was something otherworldly that drained all the anger surging through Ronan.

His mind drew a blank as he focused purely on the relaxing feeling of Vivian’s fingers carding through his hair, making his eyes flutter closed.

It was a rather coaxing gesture that brought Ronan back to his calm composure.

"Do you like that?" Vivian smiled, her other hand joining the task, and Ronan groaned softly.

"It feels really nice," Ronan murmured back, too engrossed in the euphoric feeling her fingers created.

"Wolf pups generally like this a lot," Vivian said, chuckling. "We use this method to help them calm down when they’re crying, but it can work for angry Lycans too." She teased, attempting to lighten the mood.

She truly would make a great mother, as I said before. The Lycan commented, and this time, Ronan wholeheartedly agreed.

"Ronan, I want you to know that I don’t blame you for why you kept rejecting me. If anything, I want to apologise for being so forceful without understanding what you experienced and what you’re dealing with," Vivian remarked sincerely, her fingers trailing to his ear to rub it gently between her forefingers.

A Lycan’s ears were an extremely erogenous zone, more so than a human and regular shifters. Ronan welcomed the touch, emitting a pleased grumble low in his throat, a beastly sound of contentment that sounded more like his Lycan than him.

Why didn’t she blame him? Ronan thought himself rather fortunate that his fated mate did not condemn him for the way he rejected her at first. Instead, she wholeheartedly took a step back and positioned herself in his shoes.

Perhaps the fates weren’t cruel after all. How could they be considered cruel if they rewarded him with a sweet mate like Vivian?

"I don’t know what I did to deserve you," Ronan stated, his arm wrapping across her back. "But I’m going to selfishly claim you as mine."

There were no objections on Vivian’s part. She welcomed the idea of being claimed by him more than anything. Even with unclear feelings between them, her wolf already knew it belonged to his Lycan.

"Ronan, can you tell me more about what happened on that day of the massacre?" Vivian questioned sympathetically. "I know it brings you great pain, and if you don’t wish to speak about it then I won’t press further, but if you are willing, then I want to know."

Ronan didn’t refuse.

He shifted her around so that her back was pressed against his chest. His arms enclosed around her from behind, and he rested his chin on her left shoulder.

From there, he resumed relating the story.

"The day Moonborn invaded Frosthowl Frontier, my younger brother and I were returning from Lunaris," Ronan related, absent-mindedly twirling strands of Vivian’s hair around his fingers. "My father placed us in charge of our relatives who were imprisoned in the dungeons of Lunaris. That day, we were checking whether there had been any progress with the Lunaris shifters’ experimentation."

Barely into the years of being a teenage boy, Ronan and his younger brother, Callix rode on horseback upon their return from Lunaris. The night was gelid and unforgiving, but their father demanded their return at the earliest to take charge of the military units.

Through the harsh blizzard of the valley leading back to Frosthowl Frontier, Ronan and Callix sensed unusual movement amongst the trees. It could either have been a regular animal or some beast shifter, thus the boys paid no heed to the movement.

It wasn’t uncommon for shifters or animals to hunt at night, but during a blizzard? Perhaps that was questionable.

"Brother, we should shift," Callix suggested, struggling to keep pace with his older brother. The snow was much too dense for their horses to gallop comfortably through. "Set the horses free; we’ll be faster if we sprint through the trees."

Over the harsh winter winds howling and the piercing snowflakes jabbing at the corners of his eyes, Ronan glanced over his shoulder and nodded.

They both unmounted the horses, guiding the animals into the forest to take cover from the snow under the trees. Afterwards, they shifted into their Lycan skin, nodding to each other.

Together, they sprinted through the forest, occasionally running into obstacles their eyes couldn’t catch quick enough. With scrapes, bruises, and matted fur, they made it back to Frosthowl Frontier, where the blizzard was calmer and less chaotic.

However, upon breaking through the treeline of the forest and arriving at their clan’s estate, the Lycan brothers stopped dead in their tracks.

Frosthowl Frontier was no longer a frontier.

It was a bloodied graveyard for fresh corpses.

Blankets of snow across the fields were no longer purely white. Blood soaked through the snow, fresh and potent. Exchanging horrified glances, the Lycan brothers trod shakenly through the scattered corpses.

Some bodies were Lycans ripped apart, limbs torn around them. Some were in their human forms, throats slashed and stomachs eaten out.

A pained, soft whimper escaped from Callix as he nudged one of the Lycan corpse’s with his muzzle, recognising the beast as their uncle.

Sorrowful tears pricked his eyes, and the droplets were absorbed by their uncle’s blood-soaked coat.

Ronan nudged his younger brother, prompting him to keep moving forward.

The land was deathly silent, with only the blizzard blaring in the background. The Lycan brothers stuck close to each other, their paws sinking and leaving deep imprints into the snow, for each step forward was painful and heavy for them.

"Brother, how could this be?" Callix found the courage to speak; his head hung low as he glanced around with an aching heart. "Why...who could have done this?"

Unsure of how to console his younger brother, Ronan gnashed his canines together, promising revenge for their family members. His anger in that moment was more apparent than his grief, thus making him determined to seek out the perpetrators.

"I don’t know, Cal," Ronan answered gruffly without intending to. "But when I find them, I won’t be so merciful."

Sensing an incoming presence charging towards them from behind, Ronan rammed his brother out of the way and lunged back to avoid the towering Lycan standing before them.

The Lycan was much larger than them, eyes a rapid red, salvia dripping down their bared canines as they snarled. Claws were out and ready to attack, growling hostilely.

When Ronan looked closer into the larger Lycan’s eyes, his heart sank.

It was their cousin. Zachariah, who was much like an older brother to Ronan and Callix and who was supposed to be currently under the captivity of Lunaris, stood raging and ready to attack.

Too stunned to comprehend the situation, Ronan made no effort to dodge Zachariah’s claw that swiped harshly at his face, leaving three long, bloody gashes.

Ronan grimaced, stumbling back and losing his balance to focus, but he was fortunate enough that Callix sunk his canines into Zachariah’s leg to draw away his attention. The younger Lycan bit through hard enough to snap bone, jerked back, and sprinted off to lure Zachariah away.

The larger lycan dropped to all fours with a roar and chased after him.

Smaller and lighter, Callix was much faster and lured their cousin around the estate.

Regaining his senses, Ronan raced behind them in pursuit.

Why was their cousin here? Why was he attacking them? Why did he look more out of control than ever before?

Too many questions arose in Ronan’s mind, but now his priority was to ensure that Callix didn’t become Zachariah’s meal.

He knew very well their cousin was barely using a fraction of the Lycan power and strength he possessed.

Perhaps there was still some sanity left that was screaming at Zachariah to restrain himself.

However, that was wishful thinking.

In a matter of moments, four cloaked figures appeared from the treeline of the forest, levitating towards them.

Wickans.

What the hell were Wickans doing in the Frosthowl Frontier? Were they responsible for the multitude of deaths across the estate?