Page 45 of The Lycan King's Captive

Roman screamed and staggered backwards. As he did, his arm around Abby’s neck loosened.

I lunged just as she slipped his hold. In a blur, I shoved her aside and launched myself at Roman.

And then I showed him why lycans were different than werewolves. He had numbers, but I had strength. I grabbed his head and twisted sharply, snapping vertebrae.

He wailed and tried to bring his arms up, but it was too late. His spinal cord was severed.

I shoved him face first onto the bed and put a knee in his back. “Knife,” I barked.

Someone put it in my hand.

Decapitation was messy work, but the beast within me welcomed the gore and the spray of blood. This male had touched my female. He’d hurt her and assaulted her and put her life in danger. Blood flowed and my rage flowed with it. I hacked through Roman’s bone, severing his head. Then I stepped back, chest heaving, and roared.

The mist of fury faded little by little. Eventually, I turned to see Abby standing in the knot of my men. She was pale but strong. I could tell she’d watched every second of Roman’s demise.

I wiped blood from my brow, which only succeeded in smearing additional blood around. To my men, I said, “Take him outside and finish him.” Abby was capable of dealing with violence, but euphemisms seemed appropriate here. Roman was unlikely to regenerate, but I wasn’t taking any chances. My men would cut his body into pieces and burn his corpse to ash to ensure he stayed dead. It was a grisly task I didn’t want Abby to see, let alone hear about.

As soon as my men and Roman’s body were out of the room, I had her in my arms. I was covered in blood and probably shouldn’t be touching her, but I couldn’t help it. I had to hold her to make sure she was okay.

“Are you all right, sweetheart?” I pulled back enough to search her face.

“Yes. I’m not hurt.”

“Where the hell did you learn a move like that?” She’d probably broken every single one of Roman’s toes.

“Your guards.” She grimaced. “The one who were secretly working for Celeste. She was behind all of this, Cyrus. She hates me and—”

“No.” I gathered her close again. “She hates me.” I told her of my eerie conversation with Celeste and how it was painfully clear Celeste had inherited her father’s illness. “I suspect she wanted Roman to kill me. She saw you as a conduit for luring Roman close enough to my territory to put himself in danger. Celeste is smart, which makes her mental state even more dangerous. But she didn’t anticipate how strongly my beast would react to you being taken from me.”

Abby made a soft sound. “What will happen to her?”

I hesitated. I didn’t want to tell her the truth, but I’d also vowed to never lie to her again. “Celeste is unstable in human form, but her wolf will obey me. I can force her shift. Once she’s in wolf form, I’ll guide her into the forest. When she’s distracted, I’ll snap her neck.” I stroked Abby’s back. “It’s the humane thing to do, sweetheart. She’s a lycan, not a human. If she can’t control her beast, she could end up killing a lot of people.”

Abby nodded against my chest. “I know,” she whispered. “But it’s still heartbreaking.”

I held her for a while longer, then eased her away from me and put a hand over her stomach. “Were you going to tell me about this?”

Tears streaked down her face. “I wasn’t running away. I promise. It was just a shock and I was confused. I thought you might only want me for the children I might give you.”

“Hey.” I curled a finger under her chin and tipped her head up so I knew my words would reach her in the most direct way possible. “You are so much more to me than a pregnancy.” Holding her gaze, I repeated it out loud. “I asked Garrick to give you the test because I wanted to take care of you. You’ve been through so much in such a short period of time. I planned on pampering the hell out of you anyway, but I was going to get absolutely stupid about it if I found out you were pregnant.”

She laughed, as I’d intended her to. “Absolutely stupid?”

“Like onion layers of stupidity. You’re going to hate me before this baby is born.”

“No,” she said softly, “I could never hate you, my lord. Not when I love you the way I do.”

My breath hitched. “You love me?”

“Yes.” She placed a hand on my cheek. “I love you, Cyrus. More than anything. Now, will you please take me home?”

Home. She meant my home, which she obviously considered hers now, too.

“Nothing would make me happier,” I murmured, and then I kissed her.

23

ABBY

---