Page 29 of The Lycan King's Captive

I tipped my head back on the sofa and stared at the ornate ceiling with its sparkling chandelier. “Oh Daddy,” I whispered, “I could really use your advice right now.”

No answer was forthcoming. Per usual. My father’s voice played often in my mind, but those were just memories. He never had anything new to say, because he was gone.

The bed beckoned. Sleep was safe. Easy. It was a choice, too—one of the few I had agency to make at the moment.

I dragged myself across the room and let the mattress swallow me. Oblivion beckoned.

I dove into it, grateful for the chance to escape.

14

CYRUS

Abby was sleeping when I entered.

It didn’t surprise me. It was fully dark outside now, and she was probably exhausted. Plus, I’d taken my time after my meeting with Garrick.

Even though I’d left my study resolved to mark Abby and make her my concubine, doubts had plagued me. Instead of going to her right away, I’d taken some time to think things over. I’d also showered and wolfed down a couple of rare steaks. I hadn’t realized how accustomed I’d been to operating at less than full strength.

Now I felt reinvigorated even as worry gnawed at me. Abby wasn’t going to like me very much if I went through with this. But what choice did I have? Foster liked to pretend lycans were a superior race that should remain unsullied by werewolf concerns.

The problem with that approach was that werewolf concerns were determined to invade our lives—and even end them. Lycan birth rates had never been stellar. Now that Roman and other alphas were making it their mission to turn new wolves and build shifter armies, I couldn’t afford to live in an ivory tower. Foster refused to see that, and he endangered everyone with his willful blindness.

But I was determined to keep Abby safe from his ignorance, and if I had to put her in a tower to do it, then so be it.

Gazing down at her now, a rush of protectiveness filled me. Guilt too. I’d left her alone while I dealt with Foster and then my own indecisiveness. She must have been frightened.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” I whispered as I reached down and drew a lock of glossy dark hair away from her face. She looked impossibly young and heartbreakingly beautiful in sleep. Her hand was curved under her cheek, and her soft, pink lips were parted. Her eyelashes were like silky fans on her glowing skin. Someone had brought her clothes…

Celeste. Alarm lurched through me. Fuck, I should have anticipated that meeting. Abby probably wouldn’t understand my relationship with Celeste, who was only slightly younger than I and had been born in a time when most females were the property of their fathers only to become property of their husbands. Humans had moved past that era, but lycans lived a lot longer than humans. As a result, our social habits could be…anachronistic. It was only within the last few years that Celeste had stopped being scandalized by women wearing pants.

Abby’s brow furrowed, and she murmured something I couldn’t catch.

I traced a chocolate-colored brow with my fingertip, remembering how her fur had been the same rich color. She was beautiful as a wolf. And she was so fucking strong to have survived what she had. She’d be a phenomenal mother.

My cock tightened, desire rising hot in my veins. Looking at her, I could picture her belly swollen with my child. I shouldn’t want that. A pregnancy would make her more of a target than she already was. But the idea of her carrying my heir triggered every possessive instinct I possessed. It scared me in its intensity. My blood pumped harder, and the need to mark her had my gums throbbing as my fangs threatened to descend. I drew a ragged breath.

Her eyes opened, and she rolled to her back and gazed up at me with that brilliant green that always managed to surprise me. “Cyrus.”

“Yes,” I rasped. “I’m here.” I should have been here sooner.

“I met your wife,” she said in a voice husky with sleep. But there was no anger in it, and I released a shaky, relieved breath like the coward I was.

“Celeste isn’t my wife.”

“She called herself your consort.”

I sat on the bed near her hip. “That’s right. There are twelve noble families who make up the Council of Nobles. Celeste is from one of the oldest and most prestigious. Bloodlines are everything to lycans. We structure our marriages around them.” I pushed a hand through my hair, which was still slightly damp from my shower. “Lycan parents arrange pairings when their children are young, sometimes infants. It’s kind of an industry, actually. Genealogists pore over charts trying to determine which couple will produce offspring with the strongest beasts.”

Abby raised an eyebrow. “Sounds romantic.”

A smile tugged at my lips. “Hardly.” My amusement faded. “Celeste’s father was strong, but he lost control of his wolf. It happens sometimes. It was a bit of a scandal. Noble families can be uptight prigs, honestly.”

Concern shone in Abby’s eyes. “Did the scandal affect Celeste?”

I nodded. “She’s not very marketable when it comes to marriage. I know that probably sounds horrible, but it’s the way of our world, unfortunately. I’ve known her since I was a boy, and there’s never been any kind of attraction between us. But I still want the best for her. She has a home here for as long as she needs it.”

Abby sat up and placed a gentle palm on my cheek. “That’s one of the sweetest things I’ve ever heard. I’m glad you were there for her…and that you continue to be.”

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