Page 46 of Under a Wicked Moon
She hadn’t slept in a bed or on anything soft and clean-smelling in so long that the luxury made her edgy. Uncomfortable to the point her back ached in every position she tried, she tossed and fidgeted.
While she lay there in the dark, she sifted through the rubble of her memories and tried to figure out where she went from here. Over the span of dinner, the brothers and had Evie decided the best next step for everyone was to find out who sold out Ky to the humans. That person was involved in the lycan prisons and could tell them more—as in, had lycans been sold as super-soldiers or children being raised for training, or both?
Only now did it dawn on her that she’d neglected to clarify exactly who Ky and his brothers were cursed to serve. She deduced it was someone powerful. Maybe a government or spy organization. Someone who was okay with them using magic.She needed to ask more about his curse and why beings like them, who seemed reasonably well-versed in magic, couldn’t get free.
In her insane need to help Ky, maybe in a twisted way to make him like her—when had she become a girl who did things to get a guy tolikeher?—she’d volunteered at dinner to act as bait. The goal was to wait until someone triggered her into action. They’d have to push to make sure the person felt threatened enough to activate her. Egotistically, they assumed they could handle her, deal with her when and if this happened.
Did anyone ask once she’d been triggered and put under orders how they were going to undo it? Did they want to know how she felt about being activated?
No.
She’d asked twice how they planned to stop her. The way Roman didn’t want to talk about it likely meant it involved some serious side effects. Or it was dangerous enough they wouldn’t attempt it now. Side effects and risks didn’t matter. She didn’t want to have random triggers in her head so that a stranger could approach her, say a few words, and then she’d be a slave to do what the person ordered.
Hell, no. She was ready for the cure now.
But in the moment, she’d forgotten about her own needs. She’d wanted to be the bait. For Ky. Now, alone and introspective, she wondered why. He was about as emotionally unavailable as anyone she’d ever met. Sure, his body physically responded to her, but he was so strong mentally that he’d put his foot down and said no from moment they met.
He’d given her little hope that he desired her even a smidgen as much as she wanted him, outside of full-moon madness.
That made her want to work harder to get through the wall, which was all kinds of messed up.
Bottom line: this was just the same old thing happening toher all over again. Her whole life, she’d worked to be what someone else expected—someone’s daughter, someone’s sister—and then to be accepted as someone’s mate. All those external expectations had governed her life and shaped what she thought she should think and do. Now she was working to be a new someone else’s something.
Where had trying to be all that gotten her in the past? Orphaned. Unmated. Alone. And imprisoned.
Scarier still, she didn’t know who she was now that she was free. She tried to tell herself that wasn’t a bad thing. Better to be lost than imprisoned and forced to do someone else’s bidding.
However, the risk hovered that she could still be asked to do what someone else wanted. It’d always be there. She probably wouldn’t even know if someone triggered her to do something until after she did it. Would she fight the orders or even know she was doing whatever had been asked of her? She worried she wouldn’t even remember in the end.
She removed the top comforter and relocated to the floor, which was much more comfortable without the mattress or pillow. This was the humans’ fault. Wedged on the far side of the bed between the bedframe and wall felt safer. But still vulnerable.
Perhaps she could find some tea. Rest might happen easier afterward.
Tea.
The option to drink a cup and relax was now hers. The more she dwelled on the thought of tea, the more crucial it became as a symbol of her freedom.
She dumped the bedspread to wrap herself in a smaller flannel blanket. She’d shed the skintight workout clothes when she’d first gotten into bed and refused to wear them ever again—better naked than in the prison clothes. She’d ask Evie if she could borrow something in the morning. She wandered downstairstoward a place her gut told her would be a kitchen.
It wasn’t empty.
Ky stilled, whisk in one hand above a bowl. They stared at each other in shocked silence. A strange look passed over him as if he’d been caught doing something worthy of guilt.
She was suddenly covered in a thin layer of simmering tension that felt like a chessboard with her awaiting Ky’s opening move.
His hair was damp as if he’d recently bathed. And he’d shaved. The line of his jaw had become more pronounced with weight loss.
After clearing her throat, she asked, “Mind if I come in?”
“Sure.” He put down the whisk to gather supplies out of the refrigerator.
As she stood at the doorway, it dawned on her this was a bad idea. She was virtually naked beneath the blanket in panties only, and the object of her fantasies stood right there in a T-shirt that molded his shoulders. As he bent over at the refrigerator, his jeans outlined his tight ass to perfection.
“You can come in. I won’t bite.” Ky unloaded supplies onto the marble counter of the kitchen island. He tucked his hair behind an ear on each side.
When he turned, she lost herself in his eyes; not in a dreamy way, but in the mystery of them—of what lay beneath the blue-green that hid his thoughts. She cleared the hoarseness from her throat, which broke the spell he cast over her. “Tea. I’m on the hunt for a decent cup of tea.”
“I’ll find it for you. Sit.” He waved at the bar chairs tucked beneath the gray marble counter. “What kind of tea do you like?”
