The Lycan King's Forbidden Craving novel Chapter 186

Chapter 186: The mad king

{Secret room}

“People are dying, famine is everywhere. Food and crops lack nutrients. Water is scarce, wars are breaking out between packs left and right. Women are being raped, children enslaved, crushed under the boots of Alphas who think they’re on top of the world now that there’s no fucking discipline–and you expect me to be calm, Valoreth?! “Merek yelled.

The tension in the room was thick and choking.

Valoreth was seething on his seat, one foot tapping impatiently as he watched the older Lord ramble.

They were all in a secret room, one they only used for meetings once in a blue moon.

“By the gods, I decided to visit the king’s study room, and guess what I found? A horseshit pile of scrolls from nearly every pack, complaining about how shitty and terrifying the realm has become!” Merek pointed at Toran, who was lazily seated on a chair.

“You made him king, Valoreth. You went on and on about how you were going to turn the realm around, mold it into something better. You said you made him king to fulfill the promise of merging with the werewolves,” he glared harder. “Look at him! He’s like a fucking puppet, sleeping, drinking, lazy and fucking… and you, Valoreth, sit in your abode merrying with no care while the realm burns in the flames you all started!”

“We all started!” Valoreth corrected with a roar, his voice thick with rage. “You’re part of us, Lord Merek. Do I need to remind you that it was your men who killed my wife and sent to kill the Beta? If you care so much about the realm, why aren’t you helping it?!”

Merek’s eyes blazed with fury. “You threatened me, Valoreth! You threatened to kill my son and already had his mate ready to poison him! I had no choice- and I sure as hell didn’t agree to kill Duncan and get wrapped up in this shitty massacre!”

Valoreth scoffed, rising to his feet and raking a hand through his hair. Without warning, he punched Merek in the face, sending the older male crashing to the ground.

Merek growled dangerously, his eyes glowing with menace, bones shifting with dangerous intent, but stopped when Valoreth warned coldly:

“It won’t take much effort to wipe out your entire family–starting with your son. I still have the poison you know, and I won’t hesitate to use it on you, if you don’t behave,”

Merek could only breathe in fury.

Lord Atheon swallowed hard, fists clenched on his knees as he watched in silence.

The room fell into a suffocating stillness until Lord Damaris finally spoke.

“Are we just going to ignore the fact that Merek’s men didn’t return after ending Mearina. And the fact we never found her body? It’s been six years. Aren’t any of you concerned? What if Arianna Greystone-”

“Is somewhere rotting!” Toran snapped, as if the name struck a nerve–well, it did. It always does. “Arianna. Arianna. Arianna… Give me a fucking break and let that name stay buried six feet under!”

“Your Majesty”

‘I made the shot okay? I struck her in the heart… I’ve never missed a shot. Archery is in my fucking blood,” Toran groaned.

Valoreth’s jaw clenched as he glared at Toran. “Why have you been acting like the dead instead of a king? I even

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heard your Queen gave birth to a girl. What a useless gene you carry, Toran.”

“Excuse me?” Toran’s eyes darkened. He rose from the chair, taking cold, menacing steps toward Valoreth.

“First off, I never asked to be king. You all dragged me into this position knowing damn well none of you had the balls to wear the crown. You claimed you wanted to make peace with the werewolves and I fucking believed it.” His eyes blazed as he laughed at himself.

“All I ever wanted was to be the most powerful Alpha in all the packs–but instead, you made me this. Promised me things you never fucking delivered!”

“I killed my own family for this. Something none of you had the guts to do! Of course I’m the stupid one, and now I’m not in my right mind. My hell and my earth collides. I see them every night–screaming, crying, cursing me. Do you know how insanely tormenting that is?!”

He stopped just inches before the Lord of the South, breathing heavily. “Of course you don’t, you fucking bastard! “he roared in his face.

Valoreth’s composure snapped. His fist crashed into Toran’s face, splitting his lip.

Toran staggering almost losing his balance, his eyes widened as he saw blood after touching his lip. He growled. How dare you! I’m your fucking k–“-

Crash!

Valoreth slammed Toran’s head against the wall, nearly cracking his skull. Toran crumpled, black dots swimming in his vision.

Valoreth raised his leg and began kicking him–again and again–the brutal impact making Toran’s bones crack, blood pouring from torn skin.

It was as though Valoreth was unloading every ounce of frustration onto Toran, who didn’t resist–maybe even welcomed the punishment.

“Do not!” Kick. “Forget!” Kick. “Your fucking place!”

More kicks followed even as Toran’s body went still.

“That’s enough, Valoreth! You’ll kill him!” Damaris shouted, and Valoreth finally stopped drawing in deep breaths to calm his beast.

He was a breath away to tear Toran apart.

“I promised you a high place and fulfilled that by making you the king! All you need is an heir–why is that so hard, you shitface?!” Valoreth kicked him once more and Toran didn’t even flinched.

“If your queen can’t give you one, take as many women as you want, mark them, and fuck the day and night out of them!” he snapped, then drew in another several deep breaths to calm his nerves.

He crouched down to the male, staring coldly. Toran’s breathing was ragged, his body bloody–but Valoreth knew he could still hear him.

“You’re not the only one going crazy, Toran. I lost my wife–the mother of my kids–for the sake of the realm. So stop acting like you’re the only victim,” Valoreth said, straightening up. He flashed one last glance at Merek and Athean before stepping out.

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