Page 14 of Prisoner of the Lycan Prince

“His Highness can be surly on occasion, but he’s always fair. He’s also a man of his word. Ah, that reminds me.” Arlo reached behind him. A second later, he extended a sheaf of papers.

The contract from my father’s office.

Except I’d just seen Arlo bend to set down the dinner tray—and the papers hadn’t been in his pocket.

“It’s a copy of the contract,” he said. “Prince Einar wanted you to have it for your records.”

My heart thumped hard against my ribs as I took the papers. “Thanks.”

“Of course. Now, unless you need anything else, I’ll leave you to your dinner before it gets cold. Don’t worry about the tray when you’re finished. I’ll collect it in the morning.” Arlo went to the door. Just before he opened it, he stopped and looked over his shoulder. “I strongly advise against leaving your room tonight. And it would be imprudent to venture outdoors. We’re isolated here in the mountains. You don’t want to run across any of the wildlife that roams the countryside.” He smiled. “Fortunately, you have everything you need right here in your suite.”

“Right,” I said, my voice hoarse in the quiet room. I clutched the contract in tight fingers. Nerves tingled down my spine, memories of Einar’s claw and the out-of-control fire parading through my head.

Arlo nodded. “Good night, Miss Ward.” He left, closing the door gently behind him.

For a moment, I just stared. Then I rushed to the door, locked it, and stumbled back. Oh, Dad, what have you gotten me into?

Fresh anger kindled in my chest as I looked down at the contract. With a muttered curse, I went to the chair and flung the papers next to the tray of food. The copy of the contract was useless to me. As Einar had helpfully pointed out, I wasn’t a party to it. Never mind that it was beyond ridiculous for him to act like putting a kidnapping and blackmail scheme in writing somehow made it legal.

But as bad as Einar was, my father was worse. He’d put me in danger to supposedly salvage a ruined career. Most people went through life never knowing what it would take for a loved one to sell them out. Now I knew exactly what my father thought of me. I was worth a couple of Pulitzers and a crumbling house.

Tears burned my throat. At the same moment, my stomach let out an angry growl. I wiped at my eyes, my gaze going to the tray. My airport bagel was a distant memory. Plus, I wasn’t supposed to take my medication on an empty stomach. And Arlo had a point. If Einar wanted me dead, he could have accomplished it a dozen different ways between Seattle and Draithmere. Why go to all the trouble of hauling me to his house just to poison me?

I went to the table and lifted the largest cover. Golden-brown chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, and plump rolls glazed with butter were arranged around a plate. Growing up, my mother’s job had given me access to all sorts of professional kitchens, and I knew quality food when I saw it. Heavenly scents wafted from the plate, and my stomach released another insistent growl.

Before I could lose my nerve, I sat and began to eat. As Einar promised, Arlo was an excellent cook. The chicken was flavorful and well-seasoned. The rolls melted in my mouth. Arlo had included two beverage options: water and a glass of light brown liquid that turned out to be iced tea.

As I ate, my gaze returned again and again to the fireplace. The flames downstairs had roared like they were ready to break free of the hearth and engulf the whole room. Except something held them in check. Something…or someone.

No. That was too damn outrageous to believe.

In journalism school, I’d been taught to pursue the truth. To follow the facts wherever they led. If I let fear rule me, I risked missing something important. And I had to stay rational. What was more likely, Einar controlling fire with his mind, or Einar being some kind of wealthy weirdo who enjoyed scaring the shit out of people? Maybe he styled himself as a Bruce Wayne/Batman type with Arlo as his Alfred.

Except Arlo hadn’t seemed like a butler when he rushed to Einar’s side downstairs. He’d squeezed Einar’s shoulder, and for a few tense moments, it had appeared as if the men’s roles reversed, with Arlo in charge and Einar obeying commands. Einar had gone from ordering me to my room to staring me down like he wanted to jump the desk and rip my throat out. Firelight had flickered in his eyes, sheening the silver with a layer of gold.

Like the video.

Suddenly, the food I’d eaten settled like a rock in my stomach. I stood and went to one of the big windows in the sitting room. No bars covered the glass. I tested the latch, and the window opened like normal, allowing chilly night air to sweep into the room. A rustling, scratching sound at my back made me whip around, my heart pumping faster.

The dead leaves in the fireplace stirred, scraping the stone. Relief swept me, and I released a shaky breath as I faced the window once more. Outside, an elaborate hedge maze sprawled over grass splashed by moonlight. My breath puffed in white clouds as I braced my hands on the sill and leaned over it, trying to gauge the distance to the ground.

My heart sank. The bedroom had to be at least three stories up. There were no balconies. Not even a vine clinging to the brick. Unless I got brave—or desperate—and knotted bedsheets together, escaping through the window was out of the question.

Another gust of icy wind tugged at my hair as I looked over the maze. The hedges were taller than my head, and they seemed to extend forever. Far enough to get lost in.

A shiver raced down my spine.

I pulled my head back inside and shut the window. Fatigue tugged at me, and I let my shoulders slump as I faced the bedroom. What a fucking day. The hours of airport travel, the meeting with my father, and the long road trip with Einar pressed down on me like a weight.

But my stomach was full, and I was unharmed. The bedroom was nicer than any hotel I’d ever stayed in. And Einar was a mystery to unravel. If I had any hope of escaping Draithmere, I had to figure out its master. What motivated him? What were his weaknesses? If I followed the facts, I’d find the truth eventually.

But first, I needed sleep.

I went to my suitcase and pulled out pajama pants and a T-shirt. In the bathroom, I arranged my toiletries along the back of the sink, lining them up until they were even, the labels facing outward.

Except one bottle touched the one next to it.

I nudged the first bottle aside a little.

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