Page 2 of The Lycan King's Captive

I froze in the doorway, my brain not comprehending the scene in front of me.

Four tall, muscular men stood around a big, wooden table. In the center lay an animal.

Not a dog.

Beast. The word punched into my mind. Black fur. Massive black claws. Thick snout like a wolf’s, but this was no wolf. It was much too big. As I stared, the beast stirred and opened glowing yellow eyes.

The men around the table looked toward me, identical yellow eyes in every face.

“What…” I stumbled back.

A brutal hand slapped over my mouth, and Roman’s voice growled in my ear. “Don’t scream or I’ll snap your neck.”

Words of protest died in my throat.

He pulled me against his hard chest and walked me forward so quickly my feet left the ground. My vet bag caught on my elbow and swung wildly.

When we reached the men, one of them frowned. “She’s a doctor? Not much to her.”

Another ran an assessing gaze down my body. “There’s enough.”

My heart thumped hard in my chest, and my throat went instantly dry. At the same time, my brain still refused to process what I was seeing. Their eyes weren’t right. Something was wrong.

Everything was wrong.

A sense of detachment settled over me. Maybe it was self-preservation. Maybe it was the start of a mental break. Whatever it was, it offered me something to cling to as fear threatened to claw me apart. I seized it, letting the unanswered questions in my mind swirl away as I focused on breathing.

Roman’s leather and spice scent teased my nose, but now my stomach lurched. He spoke in my ear again, his voice so low it was almost inhuman. “Listen closely, Doctor, because your life depends on it. Understand?”

Pulse pounding in my neck, I nodded as much as I could with his palm tight over my mouth.

“You’re going to examine this animal. Then you’re going to treat him, because I need him alive. If you refuse, if you disobey me in any way, I’ll let my men take turns with you.” He pushed his groin into my ass, rocking me forward. “One by one, between those long legs you’re trying to hide under ratty clothes.”

A whimper escaped before I could stop it. The beast on the table went blurry as hot tears trickled down my face and onto his hand.

Roman’s lips moved against the fine hairs at my temple. “Easy, Doctor. Follow my orders, and I’ll let you live. Do what I say, and none of these men will touch you. I give you my word.”

He was lying, but I couldn’t worry about that now. I was Sheriff Daniel Rowe’s daughter, and I knew my best chance of survival lay in taking each moment as it came. I couldn’t think too far ahead. So I blinked the tears away and made a sound of acquiescence.

The hand lifted away from my mouth, and then Roman gave me a rough shove toward the beast. “You can examine him. He’s mostly unconscious.”

Mostly? That was no way to examine an animal this size. But Roman’s threat still rang in my ears, so I put my bag down and took my first long, hard look at the beast.

The animal was so large its front and hind legs dangled off the table, giving me an up-close view of curved claws that tapered to needle points. The beast’s head was canine, with a long snout wrapped in what looked like leather straps. Blood matted the black fur and smeared the table. Around the beast’s ribs, bits of purplish bone peeked among clumps of fur that looked singed, as if someone had pressed a hot poker against the animal’s flank.

Outrage flooded me. Someone had tortured this animal. I didn’t need to be a detective to know Roman and his men were responsible.

But why? Were they circus people? Some kind of exotic animal traffickers?

Suddenly, the beast’s flesh shivered.

Then it knit back together. Like a video playing in reverse. Bone disappeared. Fur shifted.

I took a quick step back.

Roman was right there with a hand on my shoulder, shoving me forward so my hip bumped the table. “I said examine him, not gawk at him.”

“But it—”

---