Page 43 of The Lycan King's Captive

“I’m sending men with you,” Garrick said.

“Fine. But we’re leaving now.” Naked, I strode to the door.

“Cyrus!” he exclaimed behind me. “This is dangerous. You’re no match for Roman—”

I’d rounded on him and grabbed him by his collar before he’d finished his ill-advised sentence. “Abby is my life. She’s also pregnant with my child. I’m not just a match for Roman. I’m going to tear him apart.”

21

ABBY

I opened my eyes and everything hurt. As I blinked through the pain, my first thought was that I was back in Roman’s basement. But no, this place was different. Still, it wasn’t any place I wanted to be.

The air was damp, and the smell of misery hung thick in the air. And Roman was definitely nearby. I could sense his presence. The connection between us made my skin crawl but I couldn’t deny its existence. It was like a thread was anchored in my chest and it trailed off into the distance with Roman on the other end of it.

Panic threatened to overwhelm me—and then I remembered my child. Panic wasn’t an option right now. Survival was. Taking a few deep breaths, I took stock of my surroundings.

I lay on my side on a twin bed with a threadbare blanket draped over my legs. Which meant someone had tried to make me a little bit comfortable. That was a good thing, right?

The room was small and sparsely furnished, with old shag carpeting and a dusty lamp on a scarred dresser. The lamp was the room’s only source of light. Through a window, the sky was just beginning to go dark.

How long had I been here? I sat up and rubbed my jaw, expecting to find it sore. Kirnan hadn’t held back. That dick. Apparently, our sparring session hadn’t been the friendly icebreaker I’d imagined. Cyrus’s people hated me, and they’d thrown me to the wolves. Literally.

So how did Celeste figure in all this? What connection did she have to Roman, of all people? She’d engineered the mess I was in, which meant she wasn’t as indifferent to Cyrus as she claimed. Either that or she was as much of a purist as Foster and the other nobles on the council. But it was strange that she hadn’t simply ordered Kirnan to kill me. Judging from the look he’d given me just before he struck me, he would have had no problem carrying out such an order.

I stared at the ugly carpet as my head spun with theories and possibilities. It was all too much to deal with right now. Just as I began to look around the room for a weapon, the door opened and Roman entered.

He was just as handsome as I remembered. But now I knew his inside was hideous.

Instinct compelled me to shrink back against the headboard, but I forced myself to stay where I was. I couldn’t quite meet his eyes, so I pinned my gaze on his chin—and secretly wished I had the guts to get up and smash my fist into it.

He closed the door and surveyed me for a long moment. The feeling of connection between us sparked, which made nausea rise in my throat. “Stand up,” he said in the deep voice I’d hoped to never hear again.

The string in my chest tugged, and I was on my feet before I could stop myself. Worse, part of me wanted to obey him. It was the twisted bond that came from his bite, and the most enraging thing about it was that the affection I felt for him was entirely involuntary. It was like someone had opened my brain and shoved another person’s emotions into my skull.

He approached, and I held my breath as he looked me over. When he lifted a hand, I flinched away, anticipating a blow. But he just laughed softly and brushed my hair back. My fear seemed to please him.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said in an affectionate tone. “You’re far too valuable.”

I stayed silent and tried not to throw up at the lingering feel of his touch. Out of nowhere, a deep longing for Cyrus filled me, the strength of it so intense I nearly cried out.

Don’t think about him. If I did, I might cry, and I refused to cry in front of Roman.

Besides, it wasn’t just myself I had to protect. I had my child to think of. Mine and Cyrus’s child.

“Nothing to say?” Roman stroked my hair again. “I’m afraid that just won’t do, Abby. You’ve been living with Cyrus.” His voice deepened. “Sharing his bed.”

Saliva pooled in my mouth as another wave of nausea swept me. The things I’d done with Cyrus were sacred. Roman didn’t get to ruin that.

I forced my gaze to his. “Fuck you.”

His lips twitched, as if he found my defiance cute. Somehow, that was worse than his anger.

In a lightning fast move, he tangled his hand in my hair and yanked my head back sharply. I felt individual strands of hair rip from my scalp.

Okay, so his anger was worse than his amusement.

My eyes watered as he tightened his grip. His voice was soft. “Fuck me? Don’t worry, we’ll get to that. But first you’re going to tell me everything you know about Foster Carrington’s maneuvers. My sources tell me he’s been plotting a coup.”

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