Page 48 of The Lycan King's Captive

Landon frowned. “Are you sure, my lady?”

“Yes, and please call me Abby.”

He grinned. “No problem, my lady.”

I tried to look stern, but I ended up smiling as he walked away with Bart blinking lazily at me over his shoulder. I was fighting a losing battle when it came to convincing Cyrus’s subjects to use my first name. Once word got around that I’d helped kill Roman, the lycans had afforded me a deference that never failed to surprise me.

I still didn’t feel like a queen. Of course, it didn’t help that I spent most of my days in scrubs and a lab coat covered in animal hair.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Mama?” The voice that flowed through my head was sure and strong—and adorably high-pitched as only a five year old’s could be. “Can I have one of those cookies in the pantry?”

I shook my head as I left the garden and made a beeline for the kitchen. When I arrived, Max was perched on a barstool with a big glass of milk. He was a carbon copy of Cyrus with his dark hair and silver eyes. The only difference between them was Max currently had a chocolate mustache and a cookie crumb beard.

“Maximilian Rothkilde,” I said, “you know you’re not supposed to eat snacks before dinner.”

“I asked!” my son said.

I tapped the side of my head. “You know I can’t reply, you stinker.” Not only had Max inherited the telepathy that ran through Cyrus’s bloodline, he’d displayed the gift surprisingly early. For a while, I’d worried Cyrus might actually burst with pride.

“I left a cookie for you,” my son said. Because he was his father’s son and he already understood that diplomacy was one of the most powerful weapons a king could wield.

I went to him and ruffled his hair. “You’re not getting out of eating your vegetables, you know.”

The prince of the lycans sighed glumly. “I know.”

A deep voice spoke behind us. “What about me?”

I turned—and I probably melted just like Landon seeing Bart. “You’re finished early,” I told Cyrus.

He smiled as he took me in his arms. “Not really. I just canceled the rest of my meetings for the day. Told Foster to go fu—” Cyrus glanced at an extremely attentive Max. “Uh, I told him to go find something else to do besides bother me.”

I put my fingers over my lips so I wouldn’t laugh. “And how did he take that?”

“Probably like he takes everything else. But he doesn’t have many options these days.”

Well, that was true enough. Foster had seriously overplayed his hand by pushing the nobles to throw me out. As a result, they’d voted to remove him as head of the council. His power was greatly diminished—a situation that seemed permanent.

I chewed my lip now. “You don’t think he’ll do anything…” It was my turn to glance at Max. “Bad?” I really meant “murderous” but I wasn’t about to say that in front of my five year old.

“No,” Cyrus said, his rumbling voice confident. “Foster is a pain but he’s not plotting a coup.” That was one of the things Roman had been wrong about. Celeste might have claimed it, but she’d been out of her mind and fixated on removing Cyrus by any means possible. She’d seen Roman as a convenient way to make that happen, so she’d cooked up a story and fed it to him—with me as bait.

Cyrus reached over and pretended to steal Max’s nose, making Max giggle. Then he smoothed the hair off my forehead. “I’m not worried about Foster, sweetheart. I believe he’s been sufficiently declawed. And if not, I know a really good veterinarian who can finish the job.”

Happiness spread through me like the sun’s rays. Shortly after our marriage, he’d surprised me by transforming a section of the mansion into a clinic. I treated animals for the entire race. Cats, dogs, birds. Even a couple horses. It was everything I’d ever wanted.

I stood on tiptoe so I could kiss the underside of his bristly jaw. “I don’t think that will be necessary. You’re a strong king.”

He smoothed his hand over my rounded belly, where our second child was trying to roundhouse kick his or her way out of the womb. “Busy in there today, huh?”

I sighed. “Every day. Twenty-four, seven.” Max had been a fairly chill baby. This one was going to give us a run for our money. I assumed it was a girl.

Cyrus bent and spoke quietly in my ear. “I’ll help you relax tonight.”

Shivers coursed through me. “Promise?”

He kissed my temple, then slid his lips to my mouth and kissed me there, too. “Promise to make you come until you scream,” he said in my head.

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