Filed to story: The Lycan King's Treasured Luna (Narine & Sargis) Book PDF Free
“Supreme Alpha,” they chorused.
And there I sat, trembling, utterly stunned beyond belief.
What the actual fuck was happening?
SARGIS’ POV
I stood there helplessly as the royal physician and his team tried to coax her into letting them examine her.
But she refused.
She curled in on herself, pressing her small palms tightly over her ears, rocking back and forth as if she could block out the world itself. The sight of it shattered something inside me. What had she been through to react this way? What kind of hell had she survived to flinch from kindness, to see even gentle hands as threats? What crime had she committed, if any that warranted such cruelty?
I dragged my fingers through my hair in frustration, and a heavy sigh escaped my lips.
If only I hadn’t dismissed searching downtown… If only I hadn’t stubbornly assumed she’d be anywhere but there… Would I have found her sooner? Would she have been spared some of this agony?
The guilt gnawed at my insides like a merciless beast.
At least she was completely conscious now, unlike yesterday, when I carried her back to the palace. She had been unconscious, barely breathing, and a ghost of a girl she should have been.
I remembered lowering her gently into the warm water of the bath, careful not to jostle her. I had wanted so badly to cleanse her myself, to care for her the way she deserved.
But the thought of touching her, of stripping away even more of her autonomy while she was defenseless, made me sick. I would not violate her further, even unintentionally.
So I had called for three of my most trusted female staff members, ordering them to tend to her with the utmost respect and tenderness.
When they dressed her in one of my hoodies, because she was too tiny to fit into anything else, I caught glimpses of her scars. So many of them running like rivers from her toes to her mid-thighs, marking every inch of her pale skin like cruel tattoos.
Her eyes, when they finally fluttered open briefly, were hollow. Devoid of the light every living being should possess. Her skin was sallow, almost translucent under the soft lighting, and her frame was so gaunt I feared she might snap in two from the weight of a single breath.
And the rage…
God, the rage that consumed me at the thought of anyone daring to harm her… It was not the righteous fury of a king defending his people. It was personal.
I had to clench my fists now to stop myself from trembling with it. I shook my head sharply, forcing myself back to the present. I watched as she continued rocking, lost in a nightmare she couldn’t wake from.
“Ma’am, you have to allow us to take a look at you, for your own sake,” Maravek, the royal physician, coaxed gently. But she wasn’t listening. She remained curled in on herself.
Carefully, I lowered myself onto the edge of the bed, making sure my movements were slow and non-threatening, so as not to startle her further.
“I promise you, im sireli, (my beloved)” I murmured, keeping my voice low, “nobody here is going to hurt you. We’re all trying to help you.”
Her cold, lifeless grey eyes locked onto mine. There was a skepticism there so raw, so cutting, it felt like a blade to the heart. She didn’t believe me, not even a little.
I let out a slow, heavy sigh, forcing myself not to rush her.
“This is Maravek,” I continued, “the royal physician of the Court of Khragnir.
And with him is his team. The brooding, silent man standing over there,” I gestured subtly with my head, “He’s Lupercus, my second-in-command and the Prime Enforcer of this kingdom.”
I leaned closer, willing her to feel the weight of my words and the truth of them.
“I swear on my title as the supreme alpha and my life… They won’t touch you in any way you’re uncomfortable with. Not now. Not ever.”
I held her gaze steadily, letting her see every ounce of sincerity burning within me.
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, she stopped rocking. Her trembling hands slid down from her ears. And finally, she nodded.
A breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding whooshed from my lungs.
I gave Maravek a silent nod of approval.
“May I?” Maravek asked softly, giving her a small, tentative smile.
The nurses began setting up their instruments. I watched as Maravek approached her carefully, like one might approach a wounded, cornered creature. He took her vital signs first, using her wrist. Even from where I sat, my enhanced hearing picked up the rapid, thready beat of her heartbeat.
Maravek hummed under his breath, and scribbled something onto his notes. He moved onto anthropometric measurements next.
They carefully helped her off the bed and onto a weighing scale. Then came her height measurement, followed by another scribbled observation.
The nurses helped her back onto the bed, handling her like fragile glass. Maravek managed, after a bit of coaxing, to get her to open her mouth.
The instant she did, the room filled with a foul stench that turned my stomach.
Her teeth were yellowed, and some were chipped, her gums receded so far back it was a miracle they hadn’t bled out.
I clenched my fists so tightly my knuckles turned white, barely restraining the roar of rage bubbling in my chest.
As Maravek made more notes, I felt like I was being gutted alive.
Helpless.
Useless.
Standing by while the proof of her torment unfolded in front of me.
I watched as he tested her neurological responses. Her reactions were sluggish, and her reflexes were dulled. She was alive… but barely.
Maravek asked her a few simple questions, trying to coax out any verbal response.
But she remained silent.
“Okay,” Maravek sighed gently, crouching to her level, “I just want to confirm a few more things.
They’re yes or no questions, alright? Nod twice for yes, shake your head for no.
If the answer involves numbers, you can show them with your fingers.
Is that okay?”
She nodded twice.
“Good,” Maravek smiled faintly. “Do you understand everything I just said?”
Another nod.
“Have you always been unable to talk?”
She shook her head.
“When was the last time you used your voice?”
She hesitated. Her gaze dropped to her frail hands, and she slowly, almost shyly, lifted three fingers.
Three.
Three years.
My stomach twisted violently. Three years since she last spoke, of suffering so profound that she had lost her voice and her very will to cry out. By the god, what had they done to her?
And more terrifying still, who exactly was “they”?
