Page 18 of Prisoner of the Lycan Prince

Heat rushed into my cheeks. “You can try.”

He ignored me as he ripped open a small, square packet. The astringent scent of alcohol seared my nostrils. Einar held my foot steady and swiped the pad over my toe, cleaning the blood and dirt. For a second, everything was cold and wet. Then the scrape caught fire.

“That hurts!” I tried to pull my foot from his grip, but he latched onto my ankle again, his fingers so hot they were like a brand against my skin.

“It’s better than an infection,” he said, tossing the alcohol pad aside and grabbing a tube of ointment. I winced as he applied it to my wound. But after a second, the stinging faded, leaving only the faintest ache.

Einar blotted the injury with a pad of white gauze. When the wound stopped bleeding, he ripped open a long, stretchy kind of gauze, then pulled scissors from the kit and began trimming a bandage. He worked as if he treated injuries all the time, his movements quick and competent. After a minute, I forgot to fight as I watched him set the scissors aside and then wrap the gauze around my toe. He wound it around and around with the perfect amount of pressure—not too tight but not so loose that it risked falling off—before tying the ends and tucking them under one of the neat edges. Then he smoothed a hand up my calf as he lifted my foot and appeared to admire his work.

“It should heal in a day or two,” he said. “You can get this wet, but no soaking in the tub. Just showers.”

My throat went dry, and a strange heat spread through me as his fingers pressed into my muscle. My leg was bare from the knee down. And he was shirtless, his naked shoulders golden in the morning sunlight pouring through the windows. The beams turned his hair a lighter blond. More blond scruff covered his jaw. He braced a bare foot on the rug next to the bed. His other foot was tucked under him.

And his sweatpants had slipped lower when he carried me. They strained across his lap, where a bulge left no question that he was well-proportioned for a man his height.

The heat in my cheeks flared higher. “Thank you,” I muttered, tugging my foot from his grip.

He let me go, and our gazes met…and held. His lashes were long for a man, the tips curling slightly upward. Like his hair, his silver eyes were lighter in the sun. He’d treated my injury. Yes, he caused it, but he made sure it was clean and properly tended.

The air shifted, a curious kind of tension filling the space between us. Einar’s brows drew together. Then he blinked, and the spell was broken.

He stood, towering over me with suddenly angry eyes. “Now you know what I am. So you understand why it’s dangerous to wander the grounds. You won’t do it again.”

Any pleasant feelings I might have felt toward him vanished. “I was trying to help that woman.”

“Well, you didn’t. And she doesn’t need your help.”

“Who is she? Your wife?”

His eyes widened slightly, obvious surprise in the silver depths. “Myrna? No. I don’t have a wife.”

What about a girlfriend? I squashed the thought before it could form on my lips. The last thing I needed was him thinking I was interested. However, his relationship status would definitely tell me more about him. At the very least, it would open up new lines of questioning. Was he single? Did he pine for a lost love? Maybe he carried a torch for a female lycan who rejected him in his youth.

Einar grabbed the first aid kit and tucked it under his arm. The giant box seemed tiny against his large form.

“Is Myrna a relative?” I asked.

He gave me a look that let me know he was onto me. “She’s a guest, just like you. And just like you, she does what she’s told. So stay in your room.” He went to the door.

I clambered from the bed and stood with my fists clenched. “I can’t just sit in this room all day. I’ll go crazy.”

He turned from the door. “I thought you were writing a story about me. Isn’t that what all your questions are for? Uncovering my secrets?” His expression hardened. “Here’s some advice, Miss Ward. Stop digging. Because the more you find, the more reason I’ll have to keep you here indefinitely.”

He left, slamming the door behind him.

Chapter

Seven

EINAR

Ileft Harper and went straight to my study. The fire burned low, its heat doing battle with the chill that drifted from the windows.

I rooted in my desk drawers, clenching my jaw as each one failed to yield a flask.

“Dammit,” I muttered, bending and rifling through the deep bottom drawers I rarely opened. Fire seared my veins, anger pumping hotter with every beat of my heart.

My fingers closed around something hard.

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