Greymoor Academy: I Accidentally Bonded With Four Lycan Royals!

Maisie

"I... what?"

Imprinting was a disproven myth. It simply didn’t happen.

My Lycan purred sarcastically in my head, "And you’re supposed to be the smart one. If after everything you’ve been through and seen, you think anything’s a myth, then all you’ve got going for you are those lovely breasts of yours."

Jericho, as if reading my thoughts, explained. "Think of it as making a first impression, but ten times stronger. You have a conversation or interaction with hundreds of people daily, but one in part sticks with you for years for some reason. Because they were impressed on you."

He paused, ensuring I got all of that before continuing, "In the supernatural sense, that interaction, little as it might be, one glance, a simple touch, one conversation, and your wolf or Lycan cracks an eye open, instantly wishing to be known and recognized by the other person. So they leave a mark somewhere inconspicuous. So that whenever that person’s around or close by, they can always feel you, smell you. It’s the biggest form of "Forget me not" to ever exist."

I swallowed. My palms had grown clammy.

Mercer added, "With wolves, it is usually harmless. A strange fondness. A sense of familiarity. Kinship. The feeling that you’ve known someone longer than you should." A pause. "But Lycans are not wolves."

A chill crawled up my spine.

Quinlan nodded. "Our beasts are stronger. Far older than even we can fathom. There are accounts that say when the vessels they inhibit die, they simply move on to the next, carrying fragments of countless lives with them. Whether that’s true or not, no one knows. But everyone agrees on one thing."

Jericho’s lips twitched. "They bore easily. It is why letting them out often wrecks mischief and havoc, just for their entertainment. Everything is fair game." His amber eyes burned into mine. "Which is why, if you leave a mark, they may find it presumptuous, offensive, or amusing. Either way, they take notice. They obsess. Fixate. It fascinates them, and they decide they want it. They grow possessive over it. Which is unfortunate for both the subject and object of fascination because they do not get a vote in the matter."

My breathing was faint again and I was reeling from everything. "You’re saying it’s my fault all of this happened? That I... how old was I? Eight? Nine? Ten? Me, whose wolf didn’t even have a presence, looked at Soren and was somehow capable of leaving a mark on him?"

Jericho crossed his arms and I tried not to notice the bulge of his muscles. "You do not realize how strong you are. It was an accident, but accidental as it was, a Lycan would only take notice of what it considers an equal. If you were as weak as you considered yourself to be, you never would’ve been able to leave a mark on him in the first place. It takes being able to see past the surface and into a person’s soul to be able to make that dent. You did that, that too at a very young age. You really are extraordinary."

I didn’t feel extraordinary. I felt ill. Because my brain had started to work overtime on my behalf and I arrived at the realization in the same moment Soren said, "I wanted nothing to do with you. You were theirs and by an extension, I despised you as well. You had everything I didn’t because your parents had stolen mine from me. It would have been easier if I had been able to hate you cleanly. If I could have looked at your face and felt only your father’s sins and your mother’s face.

"But I couldn’t. I slept and I dreamt of you every night. Most times it was your face. Other times, it was your laughter. Sometimes I would hear you speaking and wake up unable to remember the words. Sometimes I would be in the middle of a lesson and would get a flash of what you were having for breakfast."

His nostrils flared and his eyes burned with irritation. "My whole life began to change. I suddenly liked to eat fucking pancakes and whipped cream and chocolates because you loved it. One time, my attendants brought me an entire wardrobe of previously fitted clothes and I had them all taken away because they weren’t... pink. I didn’t think it was possible to hate anyone more than I did you. And just when I remembered that you were the enemy’s daughter, I would dream of you trying to revive some dead bird."

His expression became murderous. "You tormented me."

He said the word ’tormented’ with enough vehemence that I recoiled and almost apologized, suddenly feeling sorry for him.

In an hour, I would be grateful I didn’t.

"I don’t remember any of this," I said faintly. "I don’t remember... you."

Soren sucked in a deep breath and his expression returned to its usual stoicism. "You wouldn’t. I never came back. I wish I could’ve blamed it solely on the fact that I couldn’t stand you. But it was more disgustingly selfless than that. I knew if I had found you, it wouldn’t take very long before they found you."

"They," I echoed.

"My life had always been in danger, Adams. I go to sleep every night expecting not to see the next sunrise. I couldn’t pull you into that kind of life. Plus, the enemies I had and those Richter was running from were one and the same." His jaw ticked. "There was a chance I would’ve led them straight to you."

My heart was racing. I was still mad, but my curiosity had grown exponentially. "So what changed?"

"The dagger," he said bitterly. "I received the second dagger from your father the day I turned sixteen. It was also the eve of our wedding to Tessa."

Brynn had mentioned during our lessons that early marriages were normal with Lycans, but it still surprised me. Wolves matured faster than humans, and Lycans even faster. You could have a wolf running a company at that age and Lycans running a city or country long before they even turned sixteen.

"What happened?" My voice had gone softer.

Soren’s eyes lit with dark amusement. "What do you think happened, Adams? I was forced to choose between duty and a debt owed." He licked his sensual lips. "I chose you. And we got exiled for it."