Page 57 of Prisoner of the Lycan Prince

“No!” Harper screamed from somewhere to my right. “Let me go to him!”

Pain exploded in my head. Skull split open. It didn’t matter. I had to make sure Arlo took Harper. She couldn’t see me like this.

The clatter of hooves reached me. One of the centaurs had left the maze. More screams. Chaos reigned, the world a blurry mess of noise and color.

A yell trembled in my throat, but I lacked the vocal cords for human speech.

“Please!”

Harper again. The fire seared my chest, but I swung toward her, squinting through the darkness. A blurry red shape approached, and the scent of honeysuckle engulfed me. At the same time, hunger fired in my gut. My mouth watered, my beast clamoring for fresh meat. The scent of honeysuckle thickened. My fangs ached with the need to tear into flesh.

No. I stumbled back, desperate to put distance between Harper and me.

“Einar!”

Hunger clawed at my insides. My thoughts spun. The flames shot higher. Rage exploded.

Red. Red was the color of enemies.

Blindly, I slashed at my adversary.

A woman’s sharp cry filled my ears. The rage receded. For a moment, clarity returned.

Arlo dashed across my vision in full demonic form. He bent and scooped something from the ground. Harper. Blood ran down her arm.

“We have to go, Miss Ward,” Arlo said, his voice tight as he gathered her into his arms. Behind him, one of the centaurs herded a terrified-looking Rolfe into the maze.

Arlo swung toward me, giving me a glimpse of Harper’s pale face. Our gazes collided. Her eyes were stark. Tears shone on her cheeks. She held her arm at an awkward angle, a red stain spreading over the sleeve of her sweater.

In some deep corner of my brain where I was still capable of regret, my telepathic gift sparked. Mustering the last of my power, I poured my heart into a final message.

“Forgive me.”

Harper’s eyes widened.

Arlo spun with her in his arms and sprinted toward the house.

The flames in my head roared. I was out of time. Lurching around, I loped across the lawn, leaving the maze behind. Knives of agony plunged deep into my muscles. The coppery taste of blood coated my throat. Halfway to the garage, I had to drop to all fours to keep running.

On contorted limbs, I half-ran, half-crawled to the garage. The latch on the main door was designed for me to enter with the swipe of a paw. Even so, metal shredded under my claws as I shoved inside.

The trap door to the safe room gleamed ahead, its edges spelled to emit enough light to draw me. In the old days, Arlo had propped the door with a rope and pulley system. Modern technology meant I only needed to press a button in the floor to spring the trap.

Rage roared in tandem with the fire in my head. For a second, I wavered, my thoughts a blinding whirlwind of pain and anger. But a single spark of reason still shimmered in the center of the encroaching darkness.

Harper. I had to keep Harper safe.

I bounded forward and hit the button in the floor. The trap door whisked open, revealing an inky abyss. A metal ladder offered a way down.

I didn’t need it.

With a roar and the last of my consciousness, I flung myself into the darkness.

Where I belonged.

Chapter

Nineteen

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