Page 19 of Hunt Me

A knock at the door interrupted him.

“King Alesi?”

“What do you want, Lord Gustafson?”

“We must begin our journey to Moonshire, my King.”

“Is it too late to withdraw?” Luka asked, half joking. He knew it was impossible, but he was in a mood, and irritating Ezra was cathartic.

“Prince Lykaon would be gravely agitated, especially since he made special preparations for your arrival. Rescinding your appearance would surely lead to political tension and strife that we cannot afford,” Ezra spoke through the door.

“Spare me the theatrics. I will be down momentarily.”

“I will meet you by the carriage.”

Luka eyed the wine cabinet situated in the corner of the room. He’d been drinking excessively as of late, still trying to cope with this marriage sham. He yearned for the Black Forest wine but resisted. There was only a goblet full left, and he wanted to save it for a special occasion—perhaps the night he surrendered himself to the afterlife.

Eventually, Luka reluctantly left the sanctity of his study to join his impatient travel party.

“Will you try not to look so gloomy?”

“Will you try not to look so alive, Lord Gustafson?”

“Am I to take that as a compliment?”

Luka scoffed as he climbed into the carriage. “You most certainly shouldn’t.”

“I have a feeling we’ll be going to war with the werewolves shortly,” Ezra complained, entering behind Luka.

“A war is not what I wish, but shall they bring one to our gates, then we have no choice.”

“When was the last time you fed?”

“Last night.”

“No, you have mistaken my words. Let me be clearer. When was the last time you fed from the source?”

It had been ages since Luka had fed directly from a human. He tried once—it ended dreadfully. He felt extreme disgust and guilt as soon as his fangs sank into the donor’s flesh. The act was far too intimate for his liking. In a rage, he broke her neck, killing the naïve woman who graciously offered herself like a lamb to the slaughter. He promised himself he’d never consume from the vein again.

“What is the relevance of your question?” Luka challenged.

“You’re pent up. Your primal side needs an occasional release, or you might go mad.”

Might.

Luka openly laughed. He was already mad—driven by grief and loneliness. And he was certainly mad for agreeing to accompany Ezra on his diplomatic journey, but he needed to ensure that Prince Lykaon knew he was not one to be trifled with. Luka could only handle so much passive-aggressiveness and veiled threats. He wanted to see if Prince Lykaon’s demeanor lightened when he was in his presence.

“Filthy fucking dogs,” Luka muttered under his breath.

***

“Darkness is soon approaching, my King,” Ezra announced a few hours later.

“Thank you for that astute observation. I pay you well to tell me the obvious,” Luka drawled, watching a herd of deer forage in the distance.

“I am aware you don’t favor long trips by carriage. We’ll reach our destination shortly,” Ezra replied, ignoring the king’s surly behavior. “Perhaps you should rest your eyes? Prince Lykaon prepared a banquet for our arrival. It’ll be a long nig—”

Ezra was cut off when a blazing arrow tore through the carriage wall, narrowly missing Luka’s head.