Page 19 of Prisoner of the Lycan Prince

A flask.

Fucking finally. I fell into my chair, my hand shaking as I unscrewed the top and tipped my head back.

The flask was empty. I shook it, and a few drops of witch’s brew landed on my tongue. Not nearly enough. The fire in my veins climbed higher. Sweat beaded on my skin.

Flinging the flask into the open drawer, I gripped the edge of the desk and raised my voice. “Arlo!”

“I’m here,” he said, rushing into the study. Relief pounded through me at the sight of the flask in his hand. “Freshly brewed, sir,” he added, coming to the desk and handing the flask over.

I yanked the top off and downed half the contents in a single gulp. As the witch’s brew set fires under my skin, Arlo watched me with a concerned expression.

“It’s been a while since you needed this many doses in such rapid succession.”

It took a minute for the fire to dim sufficiently for me to speak. “I’m fine. Last night’s brew was weak.”

Arlo’s horns flickered in and out of view. “I’ll check the dosage.”

“Good idea.”

He glanced at the windows. “I thought I heard Myrna.”

“You did,” I said, swiping the back of my hand across my mouth. “Harper heard her, too. And saw her. They had an encounter.”

Arlo’s eyes widened. He lowered himself into one of the chairs in front of my desk. “Is Miss Ward all right?”

“Considering she saw Myrna shift and then take to the sky, I’d say she’s doing pretty well.” I relayed the whole story, explaining how I’d arrived too late to stop Myrna from flying off. As I spoke, Arlo’s horns grew more solid, the black spirals curving against either side of his head. When I finished, he exhaled heavily.

“Myrna will return. She always does.”

I screwed the top back on the flask. “Leave some nuts and dried corn near the maze’s entrance. She’ll probably stay in beast form. Flying makes her hungry. The food will attract her.”

Arlo nodded. Then he looked at the flask on the desk, his dark eyes thoughtful. His horns faded, only to reappear a second later.

“What is it?”

He hesitated.

“I pay you to be honest with me, Arlo. What’s bothering you?”

“Miss Ward is nothing like her father.”

I grunted. “She’s a reporter. She’s everything like her father.”

A smile touched Arlo’s lips. “She’s definitely curious. But that’s natural given the circumstances, don’t you think? Draithmere isn’t an ordinary house. Now that she’s seen Myrna, she’s bound to have questions.”

“Trust me, she has no problem asking them.” Unbidden, images of Harper standing in the morning sunlight flashed in my mind. Her T-shirt had clung to her chest, leaving little to the imagination. Her nipples had pushed against the paper-thin material like little spears. In the sun, her hair looked more red than blond. And when I lifted her in my arms, the scent of vanilla and honeysuckle had clouded my lungs. It wasn’t her perfume. It was her.

The fire crackled, jerking me from my thoughts. Arlo watched me, and I realized I’d lapsed into silence.

“Um…” I cleared my throat. “Anyway, that…happened.”

Arlo was quiet for a moment. And he seemed to choose his next words carefully. “Miss Ward has a kind heart. And she’s been through a great deal these past few years.”

I sat back in my chair. Had Harper charmed Arlo in the short time they’d interacted? An uncomfortable sensation stirred in my chest. I rubbed at my sternum. Probably heartburn. I pinned Arlo with a look. “You disapprove of the way I’ve handled her.”

“It will be difficult to keep her in her room all the time. If she discovers?—”

“She won’t,” I said. “I assume you told her to stay away from the maze?”

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