Page 15 of The Lycan King's Captive

Our bare feet were quiet on the stairs—or maybe I couldn’t hear our footsteps over the sound of my heartbeat thudding in my ears. I thought Cyrus might pause at the top to whisper instructions or take a deep breath for courage. But he didn’t slow. He simply opened the door and led me into a deserted hall with shiny mahogany floors. Sconces lined the walls, spilling soft light in a way that let me know it was nighttime.

The contrast between the gray, bleak basement and the ordinary home decor was so jarring that for a second my brain couldn’t process what I was seeing.

Deep, masculine voices drifted from somewhere nearby.

Cyrus grabbed my hand and pulled me into a run.

Our footsteps thundered now, and my heart lodged in my throat as doorways and paintings flashed by. We burst into the foyer I recognized from the night I arrived.

Shouts sounded behind us.

Cyrus put on a burst of speed, his hand clamped tight around mine as we raced to the double doors. He released me long enough to fling them open, then grabbed me and we were off again, running down the steps and into the night.

Rain hit my face and spattered my shoulders. My feet splashed over wet concrete. I hardly registered any of it. I just kept running, my strides lengthening as I fell into a sprint.

More shouts. The unmistakable sounds of pursuit. We flew down a long driveway, and then Cyrus yanked my hand hard and we veered down a grassy incline bordered by a brightly lit forest.

And it was only then I realized the forest wasn’t lit up at all. My night vision was enhanced, letting me see each trunk and branch. I moved differently, too, clearing fallen logs with ease and dodging roots and low-hanging branches without slowing down.

But my new abilities weren’t much use when the people chasing me could do all the same tricks. The shouts behind us were joined by growls. Something dark streaked past me.

Cyrus seized my arm and pulled me sideways. The ground disappeared.

For a horrifying second, I flailed in the air as I plunged into nothingness. Then my ass hit the dirt with jarring force, and I was sliding in the mud. Rocks dug into my back and leaves slapped my face as I slid faster, my jaw clenched against a scream.

The ground reared up. Cyrus grabbed me before I landed and yanked me straight into a sprint, our feet squelching in the mud.

Rain fell in sheets, soaking my hair and obscuring my vision. My breaths sawed in and out of my chest. A stitch formed in my side. Unable to see, I tripped and stumbled, crying out when rocks pierced my feet.

A growl split the air, and then a dark streak flew out of the forest.

It tackled Cyrus to the ground. He landed on his shoulder and rolled, grappling with a massive black wolf with glowing yellow eyes. They tumbled over and over, flashing black fur and pale skin. The beast’s paw flew, and blood spurted from Cyrus’s side.

I clapped a hand over my mouth and fell to my knees. Rain pounded the top of my head but I didn’t notice. Oh God. This was it. Cyrus was going to die. Panic shot through me.

I can’t lose him.

His muscles bulged as he fought the beast. They rolled in the mud, snarling and grunting. Cyrus let out a hoarse bellow and plunged his arm down.

The wolf roared.

Cyrus’s arm stabbed down, silver flashing in the rain-soaked night. He sprang to his feet, grabbed the wolf by the top of its head, and buried the scalpel deep in its throat.

The beast jerked violently, giving a high-pitched yowl that lifted the hair on my arms. Cyrus straddled its shoulders, grabbed it around the neck, and twisted sharply.

A sickening crack made me jump.

The wolf went limp.

Cyrus staggered back, his shoulders heaving. Rain ran down his chest, washing away the blood and muck. As water sluiced off his arms, black markings appeared. Tattoos wrapped around his biceps and marched all the way to his fingertips. The rain washed the blood from his face, too.

And what it revealed made my breath catch.

He was gaunt, but underneath the sunken cheeks and pinched features was a stunningly handsome man. The rain plastered his dark hair to a high, broad forehead. His square jaw was just on the arrogant side of bold—a trait thrown into stark relief as he bared white fangs at the wolf on the ground.

Not a man to cross.

I shivered, and it wasn’t entirely from the rain.

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