The Lycan King and his Dark Temptation novel Chapter 367

NARRATOR

Álvaro ran through the forest, weaving in a zigzag, using the tall trees as obstacles.

He could hear the neighing of horses, the crunch of leaves being crushed beneath their heavy hooves as they pursued him—a fox fleeing through the underbrush.

The river wasn’t far; maybe he still had a chance to dive into its depths and swim away, despite the danger.

He could smell it now, almost see it. Then—a sharp crack in the air.

As he emerged into a clearing, the horses gained the upper hand over the two legs of an elemental.

“Aaaggrr!” he growled as something coiled around his boots and yanked him backward with brutal force.

His body slammed forward, hitting the ground hard, skidding through dirt and grass. He barely managed to shield his face, arms bracing against the rough impact and scraping drag.

The sheer momentum and strength of the horse’s pull overpowered him completely.

No matter how hard he struggled, no matter how desperately he fought to free himself from the whip binding his boots, the rider held him fast.

"Restrain him! If he resists, give him what he deserves, that damn traitor—but keep him conscious! I need him to talk!" the man’s voice commanded.

Álvaro managed to roll onto his back.

From below, he looked up at the man towering over him atop a dappled horse, staring down as if he were nothing more than an insect.

Álvaro had no idea who he was—or what connection he had to that woman.

Like a cornered tiger, he fought back, lashing out against the three men sent to subdue him.

He punched—and was punched back.

Kicks landed against his ribs, his stomach, knocking the breath out of him.

There were too many against just one.

It wasn’t long before he was overpowered completely.

Now on his knees, his arms wrenched behind his back, blood dripping from his face, his blurry vision caught the sight of boots stepping into view.

His swollen eyes could barely focus.

A rough handle—the butt of a whip—dug into his throat, forcing his head up.

"You’re going to tell me right now what Duke Everhart is planning—who you came here with—"

Then, abruptly—"Damn it! Get back there and keep a better watch on the cargo!" The man suddenly realized he had focused too much on this fugitive, letting the others escape.

"You’re an idiot," Álvaro spat, blood splattering onto the man’s boots, filled with pure hatred.

"Oh, you think you’re a hero, don’t you?"

The blond man turned his icy, malicious gaze back on him.

"You’ll soon learn what happens to fools who throw themselves into the fire."

The whip cracked, slicing across Álvaro’s face.

He groaned in pain, his teeth gritting, his jaw locked in fury as a bloody welt bloomed across his skin.

"Take him to the tent and chain him up!" the man ordered.

Álvaro was dragged away. He could only hope that this sacrifice hadn’t been for nothing.

He collapsed, tumbling into the dirt, the heavy crate crashing to the ground with a splintering crack—breaking open, spilling part of its contents.

When Aldo and Tomas rushed back to help him, they froze, stunned by what they saw leaking from the wooden hole.

A dark mist slithered out hungrily. It looked like black insects—or something far worse. But one thing was clear—it was deadly to anything alive.

"Get them off—Aahh! Damn it, get them off me! It burns!"

Gordon thrashed in the grass—which immediately withered under him, dying on contact. The strange creatures moved fast.

Some landed on his legs, burning and corroding his flesh, feeding to stay alive. Aldo and Tomas grabbed him, dragging him away from the swarm.

"What the hell kind of curse is this?!"

Aldo ripped off his shirt, wiping the creatures away from Gordon’s raw, exposed legs.

The fabric of his pants had already been eaten through, the flesh beneath covered in oozing sores and blisters.

"This looks like dark magic. I don’t know… but it’s too strange, too dangerous. Look, Aldo."

Tomas pointed to the ground where the insects had landed.

The grass and everything in their path was withering. The only good thing was that they seemed to die quickly outside the crate.

But in the blink of an eye, the destruction they caused was terrifying. Arrows began whistling past their heads, forcing them to move.

"There they are!!"

The shouts echoed through the trees, the barking of hounds closing in on their prey. Things were looking very, very bad for them.