Page 29 of Prisoner of the Lycan Prince

And I’d given her more.

But I’d also read that conditions like hers didn’t necessarily require a reason. In some people, worries manifested for seemingly no reason at all. The anxiety could become constant and debilitating. It pitted the sufferer against a monster they couldn’t see.

I met her gaze. “You’re right. There’s no shame in taking medicine. An ailment in the mind is the same as an ailment in the body. Treating anxiety is no different than setting a broken bone. You’ll receive no judgment from me.”

Her shoulders relaxed. “Thanks,” she said softly.

I gestured to the pills. “This medication… It helps you?”

“Yes.” She hesitated. “And talking to a therapist. But some behaviors still break through.” She gnawed at her bottom lip, her teeth white and even—and fucking alluring as they pressed into the plump pink skin. “I line things up. Toiletries, bottles in the fridge, boxes in the pantry. I don’t know why. Things just have to be in line. And I like it when the labels face outward. I hate that I do it, but I worry something bad will happen if I don’t.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.” She shook her head, her cheeks touched with pink. “I mean, logically, I know that straightening my shampoo bottle isn’t going to change my life.” She shrugged. “I guess if something had to be wrong with me, I’m lucky it’s this. Other people have it a lot worse.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” How could she think that? She was beautiful and smart. “Arlo says you’re top of your class at Northwestern.”

She huffed. “I was, past tense. Now that you’ve pulled me out of my classes, who knows what will happen to my GPA.”

“You can finish your studies when my business with your father is finished.”

“Right. I forgot about your ingenious and totally fair plan to ruin my life because you think my father is hoarding video footage.”

Ah, there was the Harper I was used to. The one who challenged me, with her stubborn chin and sharp words. Their reemergence shouldn’t have made anticipation unfurl in my chest, something within me spoiling for another round of sparring. They shouldn’t have made desire flare hot under my skin. I had no business feeling either of those things. Not with her. Not with anyone.

“What do you want for dinner?” I asked, hearing the gruffness in my voice.

She stiffened at the change in subject. And she flipped just as quickly as I had, any trace of softness fleeing from her voice. “I’m not hungry.”

For a moment, I allowed myself to feel regret. I’d ruined our conversation—and the possibility of a more amicable relationship. But it was for the best. Harper Ward and I could never be friends. Or anything else.

“Don’t be stubborn,” I said. “You have to eat something.”

She frowned. “I said I’m not hungry.”

My temper rose. “So you’ll punish me by starving yourself?”

Her lips parted on a gasp. “I know you’re a prince, but did it ever occur to you that not everything is about you?”

I clenched my jaw. She might deny it, but she was being stubborn, and she was trying to punish me. For all I knew, her medication required her to eat.

“You’re being foolish,” I said.

She stepped toward me, her eyes shooting sparks. “First, I’m stubborn. Now, I’m stupid. Do you have any other insults to lob at me?”

“I said foolish.”

“It’s the same thing.”

“Not really,” I said. “Aren’t you supposed to be a journalist?” I looked toward the sitting room. “I’ll have Arlo bring you a thesaurus.”

She pointed at the door. “Get out.”

A growl rose in my throat. “No one orders me around in my own house.”

A humorless smile touched her blue eyes, and her tone went saccharine. “New experiences can be hard, especially for someone your age.”

My fingers itched to put her over my knee and swat some respect into her far-too-tempting backside. I bit the thought back before I could voice it and make everything worse. “You might not want food now, but what if you get hungry in the night?”

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