Page 45 of The Lycans: Vol One


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That she’s mine.

I might be overly optimistic, most definitely presumptuous, seeing as she was human and probably had no idea about my kind, but I didn’t fucking care. I couldn’t accept any less.

I was so focused on her, watching as she moved around the property, the way she looked at everything her big eyes could take in, that I didn’t see the large twig underneath my foot. It snapped in half, the crack echoing all around, the trees making the sound travel everywhere.

She spun around, her gaze going right to me as I stepped into the clearing. Her eyes widened, and I heard the sharp intake of breath as she let those so familiar, so beautiful blue eyes travel over me.

She didn’t know me, but in that moment, she was most definitely recognizing me.

* * *

Mikalina

13

Mikalina

The man standing in front of me was no man at all. Well, he obviously was, but he wasn’t any male I’d ever seen in my life.

He seemed... more.

Even from the distance that parted us, I swore I could make out every detail of him. He was tall, unbelievably, ridiculously tall. God, he had to be six-foot seven, maybe even an inch or two more than that. He was most definitely a foot taller than my five-foot six stature.

His shoulders were wide—so wide I swore he blocked out the forest behind him.

And even though he was fully dressed—a point that kind of had me feeling disappointment, seeing as I bet he looked incredible naked—it was very clear this man was ripped.

He was huge, in one word. Tall. Big. Muscular to the point I felt tiny. Double, maybe even triple my size.

And his face... good God... that face was rugged and handsome, with a square jaw, masculine hollows under his cheeks, a straight, perfect nose, and lips that were full and fit him perfectly. His hair was short and dark, the strands looking utterly soft, like silk, as they lay across his forehead.

He seemed too much male.

Too.

Much.

Everything.

Almost inhuman in his attractiveness, in the size of his body, the masculinity that poured from him.

My body reacted to his very presence instantly. Warming. Softening. Getting wet.

But despite all of those physical things I was currently shamelessly checking out, the one thing that struck me as monumental was the fact that I felt like I knew him.

He took another step, and although I should have felt fear, I didn’t feel anything but this strange calmness steal over me at his very presence.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to trespass,” I stammered out, feeling embarrassed that I’d been caught walking around someone’s property.

The man said nothing but stopped, closed his eyes, and I swore his big body swayed as if he were relishing the sound of my voice. The distance between us was great enough that I couldn’t quite make out every little detail of his face, but when he opened his eyes, I swore I saw his irises flash a brilliant blue before vanishing and being replaced by an amber color.

A blue that looked… exactly like my own eye color.

No. Not possible. A trick of the light.

“No need to apologize,” he finally said, his accent thick, his voice richly deep and almost hypnotic.

I instantly felt myself relaxing at the sound. It was now my turn to sway, the sound of his voice so deep and masculine that I could grasp why it affected me the way it was.

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