I Bought the exiled king (by Natalie Winter) novel Chapter 112

HE

Valencia

The werewolf’s paws brushed against Killian’s shoulder, barely missing his neck. I would have sighed in relief but the next second I saw red appearing on

his white shirt.

He was injured.

But Killian didn’t even notice it. I stared at the deep gashes on his shoulder that the werewolf had given him, huge chunks of flesh missing through his skin and red pouring down his shirt, soaking it crimson.

I tried to step forward, to do what, I didn’t know.

But I didn’t want him to take on that werewolf alone.

“No!! Stay right there!” Killian screamed when he saw me raise my leg forward to take a step towards him.

Shit. I was distracting him.

”

But then I had not seen him take on a werewolf with his bare hands.

His arm snapped up, catching the beast’s swipe midair, claws raking across the wolf’s front legs. He gripped the ankle of one of the front legs and yanked

it, hard.

The werewolf had taken a leap to attack him but was cut short as it slammed into the ground. Blood sprayed, alongwith dirt and pebbles but Killian

didn’t flinch.

The wolf let out a pained howl but the next second it was up.

With a savage twist, Killian used the wolf’s momentum against it, slamming it onto its back so hard the ground cracked. The sound reverberated through my chest.

Gasps rose from the onlookers. Quite a lot of soldiers and a few royals had arrived as well. The chaos had woken up everybody from their sleep.

I scanned the crowd but there was no sign of Martin. I did catch Fabian peeking through the gaps, safely tucked behind the royals but when his gaze met mine, he frantically scrambled back.

I also spotted Sir Nicholas smoking a pipe, watching the fight as if it was some nightly entertainment.

But no one dared interfere.

Meanwhile, the werewolf pawed the ground and snapped its large maw.

Killian and the werewolf were circling each other, like they were dancing a game of death.

“Change back to your human form now! We dont have to do this!”

Killian said and the werewolf’s ears twitched. For a second, I thought he was listening to Killian. But then that look was gone and it was back to growling murderously again.

The werewolf scrambled up, snapping its jaws. Killian’s lips peeled back in a snail that wasn’t entirely human. For a heartbeat, his eyes glowed–silver, cold, ancient.

The glimpse stole my breath.

The beast lunged again, and Killian met it head–on.

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His fists drove into its ribs, his knee into its gut. It yelped, enraged, but he was relentless.

The blood had now soaked most of his shirt and was trickling down his pants, soaking into the ground. Yet, he still didn’t acknowledge it.

“Killian!” I cried, useless, my voice cracking as fear and adrenaline tangled inside me.

The wolf’s paw slashed again, grazing his side this time. His teeth clenched, but instead of staggering, he drove his elbow into the creature’s throat. The wolf gagged, staggering back.

The courtyard seemed to hold its breath,

Killian stood tall, chest heaving, blood streaking down his arm. For a flicker, I thought I saw more than a man before me.

Why was he not turning into his lycan form?

Killian was strong no doubt but as a human. He could turn into his lycan and toss this wolf away like a ragdoll in seconds.

So why wasn’t he?

M

Killian snarled again, his broad shoulders shadowed by something monstrous, power radiating like a storm about to break.

And then he moved again.

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