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here to rescue me.
    I look up at Drake and that small smile rides his full lips.
    His eyes are no longer human.
    “Leave and live another day.” Drake says.
    The answer to the forked tongue question has been answered.
     
    I randomly wonder how enunciating S's must be. I giggle and Merck and Arden look at me.
    “This is bad,” I hear Arden say like he's a million miles away.
    “Which part?” Adrienne asks as a chair sails over her head, crashing into the cheap wall and buckling it.
    “The part where a dragon has claimed Talyn.”
    Someone groans. I realize it's me.
    Claimed?
    “Oh shit.” I recognize the enforcer's voice but my eyelids are already closing. Drake's scent is so intoxicating, I feel the buzz of his nearness take over.
    “Bloody hell!” another voice yells.
    But I'm already fading. As another fight ensues, I vaguely wonder what escape really means for me.
    The noise dims, and even that question becomes unimportant as I doze off.
     
     
    THE END
     
    LYCAN
    ALPHA CLAIM 4
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    BONUS NOVEL SAMPLING ….
     

THE TOKEN
    A Token Series Novella
    Volume 1
     
    New York Times Bestselling author
    MARATA EROS
     
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    Copyright © 2013 Marata Eros
    This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
     
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“Love sears the heart immortal
    The embers burnt down to the token which remains ....”

~ Prologue ~
     
    “You're dying,” Dr. Matthews says.
    Two words.
    Final.
    Complete.
    Desolate.
    I feel my fingers clench the armrests of the chair underneath me, but the rest of my body remains numb.
    If his words aren't enough to convince me, I see my silence is a prevailing annoyance in his day.
    Dr. Matthews walks stiffly, making his way to the softly glowing X-ray reader.
    I flinch when he slaps the photo of the soft tissue of my brain against the magnetic tabs of the lit surface.
    The light glows around the tumor, immortalizing the end of my life like an emblazoned tool of disregard.
    Just the facts, ma’am.
    I sway as I stand, gripping the solid oak of his desk. It's very large, an anchor in the middle of his prestigious office full of the affectations of his career.
    I walk toward Matthews. His hard face is edged by what might be sympathy. After all, it's not every day he tells a twenty-two-year-old woman she's got moments to live.
    Actually, I do have time—months.
    It's just not enough.
    I look at the mess that's my brain, at the damning half a golf ball buried in a spot that will make me a vegetable if they operate. My eyes slide to the name at the bottom. For a split second, I hope to see another name there. But my own greets me.
    Mitchell, Faren.
    I back up and Matthews reaches to steady me.
    But it's too late.
    I spin and run out of his office as his voice calls after me. The corners of my coat sail behind me as I slap the metal hospital door open and take the cement steps two at a time.
    I see my car parked across the