The Play-Toy Of Three Lycan Kings-Chapter 384: Bloodlust

SAGE

I woke up craving blood.

The awareness slid into me before my eyes opened, before my breath even found rhythm.

It sat on my tongue first—metallic, sharp, a taste that wasn’t there and yet was. My mouth watered in a way that had nothing to do with hunger as I knew it. Not bread. Not fruit. Not even meat.

Blood.

The word pulsed through me, unwelcome and undeniable.

I lay there staring into the dark, my sheets twisted around my legs, my skin damp as if I’d been dragged out of deep water. My heart thudded hard enough to bruise from the inside.

I swallowed, once, twice, trying to scrape the sensation away, but it clung—thirsty, insistent, alive.

The nightmare unraveled itself in pieces when I blinked. Naked fellows, bodies pale and wrong, their mouths red, lunging hands, tearing teeth. I’d woken just before they reached me, a scream trapped behind my teeth.

I told myself it was only that—the dream, the panic, my mind playing tricks in the hours before dawn.

But the thirst didn’t fade.

I pushed myself upright, the mattress sighing beneath me, and drew in a slow breath through my nose. Cool air. Dust. Old wood. Nothing else. I waited for the craving to ebb the way fear always did once the darkness lost its teeth.

It stayed.

It gnawed at me, coiling tight behind my ribs, sending restless sparks through my limbs. My fingers curled and uncurled against the blanket. I scratched at my arms, then harder, nails biting into skin until thin lines flared white. It didn’t help.

"What is wrong with me," I muttered, my voice hoarse.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood. The room tilted, then steadied. I paced once, twice, the boards cold beneath my bare feet, before stalking toward the mirror as if it might give me an answer I didn’t want.

It did.

I froze.

Right there, in the middle of my forehead, just beneath the hairline—a faint gold tint caught the low light. Not paint. Not sweat. It looked...embedded. As though my skin itself had decided to remember something ancient and forgotten.

Just like the first Queen.

"What the hell," I snarled.

Another mark. Another thing to hide.

My pulse hammered in my ears as anger rushed up to meet the fear. Why now? Why today of all days? I dragged my fingers through my hair, pacing again, thoughts tripping over each other.

If anyone saw this—if anyone noticed—curiosity would follow. Questions. Research. Digging. This would unravel everything.

I slammed my palm against the dresser. "Damn you, Makeh," I spat. "Damn the goddess too."

The words burned, sharp and blasphemous, but I didn’t take them back. The realization hit me a breath later, cruel in its timing.

Today was my birthday.

Twenty-four.

I laughed, short and humorless. "Is this some kind of joke?" I asked the empty room. "Is this the age people become...whatever this is?"

The dresser splintered.

The sound cracked through the room, loud and final. Wood gave way beneath my hand, fissures spiderwebbing outward from where my palm had struck. I jerked back, staring.

My eyes widened.

I hadn’t summoned magic. I hadn’t focused, hadn’t drawn breath the way I always did before shaping power. It had just...happened.

Slowly, I lifted my hands. They looked the same. No glow. No marks. But beneath my skin, something moved—heat and strength threading through my veins like a living thing stretching awake.

I could feel it.

"How do you feel?" El asked.

The voice slipped into my mind with a smoothness that startled me. No resistance. No lag. It felt as though the thought had been my own before I recognized it as hers.

Different, I thought. Too honest. Too raw. Too seamless.

Stronger, El observed, and there was something like concern beneath it. You need to breathe.

I tried. My chest hitched, then obeyed. That was when Isla burst into the room.

"Sage, you wouldn’t guess who is here—" She stopped short, words collapsing into silence.

I turned.

Her eyes flicked to the shattered dresser, then to my face. "What did you do? The—" She broke off when she really looked at me.

I felt my lips curl back from my teeth. The hunger surged.

It wasn’t abstract anymore. It wasn’t a thought or a taste-memory. It was scent and sound and heat. Isla’s pulse throbbed loud in my ears, a steady drum I could almost see. Blood, warm and alive, moving just beneath her skin.

Her blood smelled...right.

Fear flashed across her face, raw and instant. "Sage?" she whispered. I wondered how I looked... to her.

But I moved.

She stumbled back, hands flying up, magic flaring bright and instinctive. A translucent barricade snapped into place between us, humming with her power.

I flicked it aside.

The barrier shattered like glass, fragments dissolving before they hit the floor. Isla gasped, terror breaking fully free now.

My hand closed around her neck.

Inside, El shouted—Stop. Sage, stop, listen to me.

I barely heard her.

My fingers fit too well beneath Isla’s jaw. Her skin was warm. Fragile. Her pulse fluttered wildly against my thumb. I leaned in before I could stop myself, inhaling at the curve of her neck.

The scent hit me like fire.

Isla whimpered. "Please," she said, her voice thinning as color drained from her face. "Please, Sage."

Blood roared in my ears. My vision tunneled, edges darkening. Hunger bent me forward, sharp enough to hurt, sharp enough to drown everything else.

You are not this, El said, fierce now. You are choosing right now.

The words cut through.

I shoved Isla away.

She hit the far wall and slid down, coughing, hands clutching her throat. I staggered back as if burned, wrapping my arms around myself, nails digging into my own skin.

"Go," I gasped. "Isla... go. Leave. Leave the house. Lock the door. Don’t come back until I tell you."

She stared at me, shaking, torn between fear and confusion. "Sage, what’s happening?"

"I don’t know," I said, the truth ripping out of me. "But if you stay, I will hurt you. Please."

My knees buckled. Hunger folded me inward, a beast clawing at my spine. I bent over, breathing hard, every instinct screaming to reach for her again.

Isla scrambled to her feet.

"I won’t tell anyone," she said quickly. "I swear."

"Keep this a secret," I said, my voice barely holding together. "No messages to the Queen."

She hesitated one last time, then nodded and fled, the door slamming shut behind her.

The silence that followed was absolute.

The moment she was gone, my strength gave out. I collapsed to the floor, palms pressed to the cool wood, gasping as the thirst raged on without mercy.

Blood.

The word echoed, and I had never been so afraid of myself in my life.