Page 31 of Prisoner of the Lycan Prince

HARPER

Ipicked at my lunch and tried not to think about lycan princes who commissioned magical mazes for supernaturals in need of a safe place to live.

The chair next to my bed wasn’t the most comfortable spot to eat. For one thing, I had to balance my plate on the upholstered arm and then hope I didn’t spill food down my shirt. Also, I’d spent so much time in the chair I was beginning to worry I might become one with it.

Maybe for dinner, I’d try the sitting room sofa. Chewing, I eyed the low coffee table through the opening that connected the two rooms in my suite.

No, it wouldn’t work. I’d have to hunch over too far. The chair was better.

I sighed and went back to pushing my food around my plate.

My eyes itched from the sleepless night I’d endured after Einar left. So what if he saved Goliath and the others from discrimination and death? Einar’s good deeds didn’t change the fact that he’d bullied my father. His generosity didn’t erase the bad things he’d done to me. Leander, Keir, and Adina were lovely, but maybe they never saw the side of Einar that was perfectly okay uprooting a human from her life and locking her in a bedroom far from home.

Maybe that was it. Einar didn’t consider me an equal. The lycan lifespan was five hundred years. He’d made sure to point out his superior sense of smell. He could transform into a powerful and dangerous animal. Undoubtedly, he had other magical gifts.

By contrast, I was a twenty-two-year-old undergrad. Everything I owned in the world fit into a few packing boxes. For someone like Einar, I was merely a commodity—something he could maneuver around like a chess piece until he got his way. And when he finally got what he wanted, he would discard me and move on with his very long life.

The food Arlo had delivered suddenly tasted like ash in my mouth. I put my fork down and placed my plate on the table next to the chair. In a half hour, Arlo would come fetch it. Probably, he would bring a new book or two. He’d ask if I needed anything else and if I had any special requests for dinner. Then he would leave, and I’d be alone again.

And tomorrow, the pattern would repeat. How long before my sanity started to unravel?

I stood, a strange energy thrumming through me. I’d felt it from the moment I opened my eyes after finally falling into a fitful doze in the early hours of the morning. I was jittery and restless, like I couldn’t escape my own skin. Despite the chilly wind gusting down the chimney, I’d been warm since I woke. My face was flushed, and sweat gathered at my temples. The next time Arlo showed up, I had to ask if he could adjust the temperature in the room.

On impulse, I pulled my sweater over my head, leaving me in nothing but yoga pants and a thin camisole with spaghetti straps. Stuck in my bedroom, I’d forgone a bra. I finger combed my hair back from my face and lifted it off my neck. Cool air teased my nape.

Whatever was wrong with me, it didn’t bode well for?—

A loud, sharp screech sounded from outside. Myrna? I rushed to the window and looked down. The sight in front of the maze was so outlandish, I almost rubbed my eyes like a cartoon character.

Two horses—one black and one Palomino gold—battled on the lawn. They grappled and pawed at each other, their hooves flying. The Palomino spun, its pale mane swinging, and kicked out with both back hooves. The black danced sideways to evade the blow. The Palomino kicked again, and this time it nailed the black horse in the ribs.

The black horse gave a high-pitched, angry-sounding neigh as it retreated. The Palomino pressed its advantage, galloping to the other horse and biting at its neck.

The black retaliated, head-butting the Palomino hard enough to send it crashing to the ground. It flailed on its side, tossing its head as it struggled. The black horse darted forward and ripped a chunk of flesh from the Palomino’s flank. Blood spurted. The Palomino writhed in obvious agony, its eyes rolling. The black horse struck again, opening another nasty gash in the Palomino’s side.

I moved without thinking, sprinting from the bedroom and hurrying downstairs. The foyer whipped past, and then I was through the kitchen and out the patio door.

The Palomino was on its feet. Blood streamed down its side, but it continued to fight, pawing and biting at the darker horse. They were massive animals, the muscles in their hindquarters bunching and flexing as they grappled. Foam flecked their mouths. Anger burned in their eyes.

Wait. That couldn’t be right. They were horses. Animals lashed out when they were frightened or in pain. They didn’t fight to vent human emotions.

I hovered on the edge of the lawn, an eerie awareness lifting the hair on my nape. Without warning, the horses stopped attacking each other. As one, they swung their heads toward me. Their nostrils flared. The look in their eyes shifted from fury to…interest.

My throat went dry. Some deep, primitive instinct screamed at me to run.

“You little fool,” Einar growled behind me. Before I could spin, a powerful arm gripped me around the waist and jerked me off my feet. Einar sprinted toward the house with me dangling from his arm like a ragdoll.

The horses charged, galloping after us.

A strangled scream caught in my throat. A second later, the world went sideways as Einar flipped me around and slung me over his shoulder. Pain exploded in my ribs. Einar didn’t slow, just clamped an arm over the backs of my thighs and kept running.

The thunder of hooves filled my ears. Hair hung in my face, obscuring my vision. Sputtering, I flung enough hair out of my eyes to see the grass turn into the patio’s concrete.

“Open the door!” Einar shouted, his voice sending vibrations through my chest. Seconds later, a zipping sound reached me, and then my body went weightless as Einar launched himself over the kitchen’s threshold. He landed hard, and more pain stabbed at my ribs.

“Put me down!” I gasped, rearing up just in time to see Arlo slam the slider into place. On the other side, the horses reared.

Einar stopped, his shoulders heaving. He placed me on my feet, but I barely registered my newfound freedom. Because the horses were no longer horses. Not completely. Their bodies were still equine, but their torsos were human.

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