Pregnant After One Night With The Lycan Chapter 97
Pregnant After One Night With The Lycan By Kellie Brown
Chapter 97 Dorian And Barlow’s First Meeting
Dorian’s POV:
Mist enters my eyes and the world suddenly swirls out of focus. I frantically blink trying to see, but the
mist is heavy. Thick clouds darken my surroundings as snow falls like white bullets from the sky. My
skinny arms and hands wrap themselves round my body. The tips of my ears sting from the frigid
environment as my teeth chatter uncontrobly.
I’ve been walking for days. But my legs struggle to push through the thickyer of snow that nkets
the ground. And behind me I leave a pathetic trail that will soon be erased as more snow falls. I bet I
will be erased, blown away from the terrible cry of the wind, or smothered by the ice, or worse, I’ll
freeze, and wither away and melt into the snow.
Title of the document
I drop to my knees.
I try to stand, but my body is too weak. And the snow feels like afy mattress, offering me eternal
sleep. But I have to keep going. My life has to mean more than just what my mother has made of me.
It’s been a year now since I left her behind and ventured off on my own. My torn scarf and ragged
clothing offer little safety from the elements, but I wrap them tight around me in hope. However, when I
lift my gaze, the snowstorm cannot hide the movement in the distance. Someone approaches. An
unruly man, his long beard and thick brows are speckled with frost. His face appears worn and tired,
but his eyes grow wide when he sees me.
I don’t know who he is. I’ve never seen him before, and I wonder why anyone but myself and my
childish ambition and ignorance would be out in this blizzard. But something about him is familiar. My
mind despite its exhaustion runs through all the memories, but cannot find the face among images. And
yet, the one thing that stands out is a name: Barlow.
“Please help me,” I can barely manage a whisper.
But the man hears me and rushes over to help me. “What the hell are you doing out here child!” but he
doesn’t wait for my reply, he scoops up my feeble body into his arms and begins trekking back to where
ever he came from.
Like an infant in the safety of their parent’s arms, I find myself nestling into his warmth. I find myself
finally at ease, finally feeling truly safe. I stare out into the fog, but something shifts. The sky cracks and
crumbles, the snow changes colours, shifting back and forth between white and brown. Trees glitch in
and out of my field of vision.
Till images sh about in my mind of the past and present and I suddenly realize that I’ve been here
before. This is a memory, not reality! No, it’s not even my real memory, there’s something wrong, it’s an
illusion! My eyes shoot open just as something sharp impales my chest and I gasp.
The metallic taste of blood infiltrates my mouth forcing me to splutter out and stare at the red stain I’ve
left on the ground. But the ground isn’t brown, nearly every patch of gra*s*s and dirt is tinted in red,
flowers sttered with blood and trees marked with crimson. My soldiersy fallen all the around.
Some had at least one of their limbs ripped off, others were barely crawling, if not trying to hold on
despite bleeding out. And mosty lifeless on the ground.
So astonished by the scene, I nearly forget to look at what’s in front of me. My gaze snaps to Marco,
his hand having morphed into a Lycan w, it still remains embedded deep in my chest, just scraping
the edges of my heart.
The shock is beginning to wear off and I feel the rush of pain that erupts in my body. Marco only res
at me, and he barely flinches as his w jolts forward, and is thrust into the depths of my heart. I can’t
stop my head from rolling back, forcing my eyes to look up at the starry night sky.
The world shifts again, and the clouds form and crowd the sky at an unnaturally rapid pace. Snow falls
and crystal kes fall into my eyes. I’m being carried again, in Barlow’s arms. But this time my adult
mind remains, I’m well aware I’m back in my memory.
I can’t help but wonder if maybe Barlow once described the scene of our first meeting to Tanya. And
she created this illusion thinking it meant something to me. But what Barlow knew wasn’t really the
whole truth. From a young age I knew that in order to gain revenge, I must use all my talents of deceit.
That and the fact I’d never be so pathetic or beg for help so willingly.
No, my first meeting with Barlow was all premeditated. I had long heard that Barlow’s rogue pack were
all hybrids, and that Barlow was very good at ck magic. So, I secretly observed him for weeks, being
sure that everything told to me was true. I also memorised his daily routine, knowing where and when
would be the best ce to cross paths with him.
I deliberately ced myself in his path, pretending to be a dying child who just happened to be along
his route, begging for protection from the cold. But I was never helpless. Never panicked. I would not
allow myself to die so easily. That’s right. I fought for my life, fought for my revenge and now…
Upstodatee from Novel(D)ra/m/a.O(r)g
But then I suddenly see Barlow smile at me, a familiar bright smile, and say to me, “Let’s go home, kid!”
I look deeply at him, finally, smile and mutter myst words, “Alright, Barlow. Let’s go home…”
Tanya’s POV:
I shift back. But changing out of my fighting form doesn’t remove the crimson body that smothers my
clothes and body. Nor does it alter the slow healing wounds that relish across my skin. And my human
eyes can still see the sea of bodies thaty across the forest floor, tainting mother nature’s soil with
their dposing corpses.
We won. But not without the loss of life.
Marco still stands above Dorian’s body as life leaves the hybrid’s eyes. The sound of Marco’s ws
retracting out of Dorian’s body is ufortably moist as his ws slip slickly out of the flesh wound.
He stares nkly at his opponent whose eyes remain open, and even in death, he smiles up at the sky.
“He’s gone Marco,” I whisper softly as Ie up beside my husband, pulling an arm away. But he
doesn’t budge. “It’s over Marco. We need to go find Cathy.”
This is what snaps him out of his unrest and he silently leads us down into the cave. What remains
pce army follows us. Even with their wounds and their lost limbs, they follow Marco like true loyal
soldiers. And we enter the darkness that’s only lit faintly by candlelight.
“Find Eric,” orders Marco whilst me and him rush to Cathy’s side as sheys unconscious on the floor.
When Eric joins us we try to release Cathy from the magic circle that’s keeping her trapped to the floor.
But there’s nothing we can do, the magic continues to bind her to the ground and no strength or power
can remove her. So, we have to have the doctore down into the cave to take a look at her.
When the doctor finally arrives, the three of us are now standing around her body as he exins.
“She’s nearly been s*tri*pped of all life,” he says solemnly. “What life does remain is the only thing
keeping her breathing. But I’m sorry, she’ll never wake up. And eventually, she will die as the magic
drains her body.”
In the corner of my gaze, I see Eric stumble, and almost copse till Marco grabs hold of him, trying to
steady him. “Hold on brother. She’s still with us,” he whispers. “We can’t give up hope. There must be a
way.”
With Marco’s belief keeping us going, me, him, Eric, and Oliver go to Dorian’s now vacated territory.
We search through his library, bedroom, office, and all other ces we can think of for anything that
could tell us more information rting to sacrificial ck magic.
Two gruelling days pass, and none of us barely sleep as we’re desperate to find something to save
Cathy. But finally, Ie across an ancient book hidden beneath Dorian’s mattress. The entire book is
information solely on sacrificial ck magic, and hope grows in my heart.
Course, after finding the right page, and skimming the words. The ancient book records that once the
sacrificial ck magic spell has been cast there is no way of stopping the effects. Even if the witch who
cast the spell is k*il*led. Unless…
My heart drops.
‘Unless there is a volunteer, who is willing to give up his or her life to take the ce of the person who
was originally sacrificed’.