Page 35 of Prisoner of the Lycan Prince

I stumbled backward, my eyes flying open. Blood dripped from my hand to the thick carpet. The bedroom rippled around me, the colors going neon bright before sliding back to normal. A huge splinter protruded from my palm. Although, splinter was too mild a word. The damn thing was like a two-by-four. Grimacing, I yanked it from my skin. More blood splattered the carpet even as the wound healed quickly.

“And I hope I never see you again.”

“Whatever it was, I certainly didn’t welcome it.”

Biting back a curse, I lurched to the bathroom. After a moment’s hesitation, I stripped and turned on the shower. I’d splurged the last time I redecorated, installing a walk-in with slate floors angled to let the water drain without issue. The showerhead was more complicated than the space station, and it was worth every penny. I set the water pressure on high, braced a hand against the wall, and used my other hand to work my dick.

I couldn’t have Harper, but I had to get her out of my system. Only a man made of stone could have remained unaffected by her sweet scent and perfect pussy. In my mind, her fingers plunged between her glossy folds before stroking upward and circling her swollen clit. She’d gasped as I issued commands, a flush spreading over her peaches-and-cream skin.

Water pounded my nape. My balls drew up, my sack tight and aching. I worked my dick faster, the sound of Harper’s arousal loud in my memory. She’d been completely uninhibited, her head thrown back and her tight nipples poking toward the ceiling as she fucked herself under my gaze.

Steam curled around me. My breaths grew harsh and uneven, involuntary grunts echoing off the shower’s tile. I squeezed my cock, imagining myself plunging into Harper’s warm, wet pussy. So hot and sweet. Like dipping my dick in liquid sugar.

I stroked harder, my fist tight around my pulsing cock. A guttural growl built in my throat. My heart pounded, each beat spurring me toward release. In my mind, Harper spread her legs wider, her pink folds dripping with honey.

The growl broke free, and I came hard against the shower wall, waves of pleasure washing over me. As I rode out my orgasm, images of Harper continued to flash through my mind. Her sleek body, the sensual roll of her hips, her soft cries of pleasure.

Shuddering, I pressed my forehead to the tile as I caught my breath. Blinking open bleary eyes, I watched the water carry my release to the drain. The whirlpool blurred as a wave of dizziness swamped me. Straightening, I fumbled for the tap. The world tilted, and I staggered sideways, thrusting a hand out just in time to keep from crashing into the wall and going down.

Fire flared in the center of my chest. Knives stabbed at my bones, the pain burrowing deep. The tiles blurred, coalescing into a grayish blob even as black huddled at the edges of my vision.

No. Not now.

The bathroom fixtures were hazy, indistinct shapes as I lurched from the shower and stumbled wet and dripping to the bedroom. A fierce ache lodged in my jaw as I pawed through the desk drawers and pulled out more flasks. I gulped one down…then another.

Black smeared my vision. A high-pitched ringing filled my head. This time, Adina’s brew couldn’t catch the fire.

“Arlo!” I shouted. At least I thought I did. I couldn’t be certain with the blackness hovering and the fire scorching my bones to the marrow. Somewhere in my pain-addled brain, I realized I should have called for Arlo the moment I entered the suite. The fire had sapped my reason. I couldn’t let the blaze overtake me in the bedroom. The location wasn’t…secure.

A lightning bolt of pain struck the base of my spine. I doubled over, an unmanly whimper bursting from me. I sucked in a breath as color bled from the world. “Arlo!”

“I’m here,” he said, his voice breathless. The smoke and sulfur stench of brimstone wafted around me as he gripped my shoulders and pulled me upright. His face was a fuzzy beige moon, but his sharp intake of breath told me I looked every bit as bad as I felt.

“Harper…” I croaked.

“I’ll check on her later,” he said. “Right now, we need to get you drinking.” He dropped a hand from my shoulder and reached into the air.

“Too late,” I said, my speech garbled as my fangs punched from my gums. Hot blood ran down my chin as my face began to shift. “I drank three already.”

Arlo was silent. Slowly, the blurry beige moon of his face turned red. Needle-sharp claws dug into my shoulder.

Good. He needed his true form if he hoped to handle me.

The blackness swelled. Fabric ripped as my spine lengthened, vertebrae snapping like popcorn. “Harper,” I gasped, blood and sweat stinging my eyes.

A shadow fell over me, and Arlo’s reply drifted from somewhere above my head. “I told you, Your Highness, I’ll check on?—”

“No,” I growled, consciousness slipping. Words flitted through my mind, fire licking at vowels and consonants my new form didn’t know how to make. But this was important. I couldn’t have the female who smelled of honeysuckle and drove me crazy with her questions. And I couldn’t release her. Not yet. But maybe I could please her. Make her hate me a little less.

The bones in my neck slid against each other, snapping veins like they were power lines. In a few more seconds, speech would be impossible.

“Cook,” I gasped. “Let…cook.”

The scent of brimstone filled my lungs. “Cook?” Arlo repeated, his voice guttural.

I grunted my assent. “Kitchen. Harp—” The knives snatched my breath away, but I dragged in more oxygen and tried again. “Let cook.”

“Yes, sir. I understand. Leave it to me.”

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