The Hunger (The Lycans #3) Read Online Jenika Snow

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance, Shape Shifters, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: The Lycans Series by Jenika Snow
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Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 74538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
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So I pushed myself up, grabbed my backpack, and headed out.

5

Caelan

My skin was tight, itchy. Burning. I felt my wolf pacing, angry and aggressive. I needed to shift, to get some of this wild energy and rage out of me.

What I needed to do was fight someone… destroy something. But getting into a brawl with someone wouldn’t be possible, not until we figured out what the fuck was going on with Luca, or if he decided to attack. And I prayed like hell he decided to attack. It would give me an opportunity to let the beast out.

I was tempted to pick a fight with another Lycan, maybe one of my brothers, maybe a wolf from the Guard. But hell, that would only cause more shit on top of the mountain that we already had.

So instead I paced and stewed and told my inner wolf that soon… soon, we’d get the release we needed.

But what really pissed me off was that Banner, my father, had given strict orders that me and my brothers were not to go near Luca. We were not to engage; hell, we weren’t even to look in his direction. Our Da knew us well though, knew all that would do was have me attacking the Lycan behind the walls. But then that would end in a catastrophic event where we wouldn’t be able to control the situation.

So even if my father pissed me off, he was right. He knew we wouldn’t be able to just stop if we went after him.

At only thirty human years old, me and my two brothers, the three of us making triplets, were young for Lycan standards, given the fact that our kind could live up to a millennia. But that didn’t mean we weren’t trained or deadly. That didn’t mean we weren’t fully matured, grown-ass men.

Yet I knew my father, even Cian, general for the Guard, saw us as the little pups still nipping at their heels all those years ago.

But we weren’t fucking children anymore. We could handle ourselves, take care of any situation that arose. We were the next in line to rule the Scottish clan, the three of us making a trifecta. Although typically there was only one heir, it had been decided by our father that the three of us would do it together. We’d keep the bond of family and traditions, make sure our culture and Lycan ways were upheld. But most of all, we’d ensure the safety of our people and species.

And we would continue on with this way of ruling until we had sons of our own. Then we’d teach them our ways, show them the strength and power the Lycans held.

I let that future play out in my head, especially the sons part. If we were lucky, we’d find our mates—the only female we’d ever love, ever give our bodies to, and the only female we could have children with.

A shifter’s sole purpose was to find their Linked Mate, to experience the Linked Connection. All any of us wanted was to find our fated females. A Lycan—or any Otherworld creature, for that matter—was devoted to that one female and her alone, even if we never found her. She’d be the only thing that we wanted or needed in our life. She was our true home.

But it wasn’t a guarantee that we would ever find her and be fully complete. It was a true gift in every sense of the word.

I closed my eyes and envisioned having a mate of my own. The very thought that I would never find my female hadn’t been something at the forefront of my mind until Luca came into the picture.

Of course I ached for my mate, even though I didn’t know who she was or where she was. Was she even born yet? Was she a human, a Lycan? Another creature in the Otherworld? It wouldn’t matter where she hailed from, because she’d be perfect; of that I was certain.

I ran a hand over my face, feeling exhausted yet wired at the same time. I continued moving through the house, my parents already turned in for the night, my brothers doing the same. Ainslee was locked away in her room, refusing to socialize with us, but I couldn’t blame her.

I’d brought her food earlier, as well as a glass of fresh blood, hoping she’d eat and drink something, because she’d been withdrawn and hadn’t been taking enough sustenance with all the stress. I wanted to talk to her, but I knew she was upset, was confused, and part of her was devastated. I could pick up the lingering scent of her hollowness, and it ate at me.

I didn’t want her to feel like this. That was the last thing any of us wanted. And although we were trying to protect her, we were also hurting her in the process.


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