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1509 Words
Chaos erupted. Evelyn barely registered gloved hands hauling her into the car's embrace.
Her last conscious sight burned into memory, a face carved by warring angels, tousled ink-black hair framing eyes that held both arctic frost and smoldering ruin.
His thumb brushed her bleeding lip. "You shared my bed, yet ask my name?"
Darkness swallowed her retort.
On the city's edge, where civilization faded into wilderness, a Gothic castle pierced through the emerald forest canopy.
Its spires clawed at the stormy sky—magnificent, foreboding, drenched in secrets.
Pain.
Fire ants seemed to be devouring her nerves.
Evelyn surfaced from the medicinal bath with a gasp, her naked body illuminated under a crystal chandelier's cruel glare.
Ripples distorted her reflection in the oak tub's murky waters.
"Wh—" Her hands flew to cover herself as awareness crashed in. Across the chamber, a man lounged on a velvet chaise, his polished oxfords propped on a skull-shaped ottoman.
"Done playing a mermaid?" Lucian Blackthorne's voice could frost hell itself.
She plunged back into the herb-scented liquid. "Who are you? What is this place?"
"Evelyn Voss." He ticked off facts like reciting a grocery list. "Third-year law at Durham. Mother dead under... curious circumstances. Father's new wife..."
"How do you know?"
"Know?" His laugh scraped against the marble walls. "I rebuilt war-torn nations before you learned to tie shoelaces."
Recognition dawned.
The silver-streaked hair from Forbes covers. The scar bisecting his left eyebrow from that assassination attempt.
This was the Duke who'd turned Blackthorne Industries into an empire before thirty.
Evelyn pinched her thigh. Hard.
"Real enough for you?" Lucian's smirk revealed wolf-sharp canines. "Good. We'll need that pain tolerance."
Lucian's smirk sharpened as he rose with panther-like grace.
Evelyn scrambled backward in the clawfoot tub, water sloshing over copper edges. "Stay back! I'll scream!"
His palms slammed against the tub's rim, caging her in cedar-scented steam. "Scream louder," he purred, breath ghosting over the scar along her collarbone. "I quite enjoyed your... vocalizations last time."
The slap echoed like gunfire.
Her palm stung where it had connected with his razor-sharp cheekbone. Lucian slowly turned his face back, the red imprint glowing against his pallor.
"Ever heard of consent?" she spat, trembling.
In one fluid motion, he hauled her dripping form onto the four-poster bed. "Consent?" His knee pressed between her thighs. "You barged into my territory during the blood moon. That was your signed contract."
Evelyn's bravado crumbled. "I'm sorry! Please!"
"Too late for pretty words." His calloused thumb traced the birthmark above her hip. "But I'll accept proper... apologies."
"That hurts!"
Lucian's brow furrowed in displeasure. "I haven't even touched you yet."
"I'm injured," Evelyn retorted through slitted eyes, her body tensing defensively.
"Really?" His mocking tone laced with disdain. "Take a proper look then, where exactly are these wounds?"
Evelyn's eyelids fluttered open. The bruises that should have marred her skin had vanished. "My injuries... Where...?"
"Two days soaking in my healing springs erased every mark," he stated coldly before crushing his lips against hers.
Evelyn kicked wildly, her heel connecting with his thigh. "I'm pregnant!"
The declaration froze Lucian mid-motion. Wolf-like eyes pinned her beneath him. "Pregnant?"
"It's true," she insisted, desperation clawing her throat. "My family has the medical reports."
The lie burned her tongue, but she clung to this fragile shield between them.
"Do you comprehend the price of deceiving me?" His gaze sharpened like honed steel.
Trembling, Evelyn lifted her chin. "The prenatal records don't lie. I carry a child."
This gamble was her only escape route, she couldn't falter now.
Lucian's roar shook the bedchamber as he flung her against the mattress. The nightstand exploded into splinters beneath his boot, sending crystal decanters cascading to the floor.
Evelyn scrambled backward until her spine hit the carved bedpost.
"Whose bastard?" Lucian loomed over her, madness glittering in his eyes. "Mine?"
"N-not yours," she stammered, then mentally cursed, she wasn't even pregnant!
"Not mine?" He seized her wrists, hauling her upright. "The purity exam proved your untouched state last mooncycle! Who else could claim you?"
The possessive growl startled them both. Evelyn's nakedness suddenly felt glaring under his scrutiny.
"Let's discuss this properly," she begged, attempting to cover herself. "Just let me dress first."
"Dress?" Lucian trapped her beneath his hips, the heat between them undeniable. "Clothes won't hide this deception."
"Such ingratitude." Lucian's fingers bit into her jaw. "First amnesia about our night, now this pregnancy charade?" His laughter carried winter's edge. "Let me educate you on the consequences of deception."
His mouth claimed hers in a bruising kiss, plundering the honeyed sweetness he'd craved since their first encounter.
Evelyn twisted violently. "Don't..."
"Too late." His teeth scraped her lower lip. "You lit this fire."
No quarter given. No mercy shown.
She fought like a caged songbird, all fragile fury and useless thrashing. The silk sheets tore beneath her nails.
When penetration came, it wasn't the wedding night bliss poets described. White-hot agony flooded every nerve. Her scream died as the world dissolved into black water.
"Why isn't she emitting that scent?" Lucian's booted feet rested arrogantly on the lab table.
The leather couch creaked under his predatory sprawl. "Are you truly this incompetent, Nathaniel? Can this woman cure me or not?"
Nathaniel didn't glance up from his bubbling alembics. "With respect, my lord, questioning my credentials won't accelerate the process." His gloved hands adjusted copper tubing with surgical precision. "This is the first viable candidate in seven years. The bloodwork doesn't lie."
"Then explain her amnesia." Lucian's knuckles whitened on the couch arm. "Either she's lying through those pretty teeth, or your precious data's flawed."
Nathaniel finally turned, his goggles reflecting fractured lab light. "You doubt yourself."
"Never." The denial came too fast. Lucian's wolf-bright eyes tracked Evelyn's unconscious form in the observation chamber. "That night... the scent of moonflowers and bergamot. Now it's faint. Like watered wine."
Nathaniel peeled off gloves with deliberate calm. The soulmark scanner hummed to life. "Let's see what the bonds reveal."
Lucian extended his arm. Needle-fine tendrils of magic pierced his veins. Monitors flashed with crimson runes, ancient diagnostics no modern hospital could replicate.
Ten minutes later, Nathaniel stared at the screen with deepening furrows. "This can't be..."
"What's the mumbling about?" Lucian's voice cut through the lab's sterile air like shattering glass.
Nathaniel's gloved fingers trembled against the monitor. "Your lycanthropy levels..." He swallowed hard.
"They've spiked 37% since last treatment."
The antique sofa screeched as Lucian jerked upright, IV lines tearing from his arms. "You assured me she was the cure!" Broken sensors clattered across the marble floors. "Seven years! Seven years of your incompetence!"
"Every biomarker matched!" The veterinarian-turned-researcher gestured at wall charts mapping Evelyn's vitals.
"Her virginity must have been the catalyst."
"Enough!" Lucian's fist dented a titanium console. "Three days." Wolf-gold eyes glowed in the dimness. "Prove your theory or watch your precious gadgets melt."
The reinforced door slammed with earthquake force. Glass vials danced in their cabinets.
Nathaniel stared at his distorted reflection in a dented centrifuge. "Should've stuck with neutering cats," he muttered, wiping sweat from his lab coat's collar.
A jolt of electricity surged through her veins.
Evelyn awoke with a gasp, her vision swimming into focus on yet another unfamiliar room, his one filled with beakers, Bunsen burners, and rows of glinting lab equipment.
"Wh-where...?" She tried to sit up, only to yelp as electrodes tore at her skin.
"Stay still," a baritone voice warned. "Running diagnostics."
Nathaniel Graves leaned over her, his lab coat pristine. Sunlight from high windows haloed his tousled blond hair, every inch the golden boy from campus legends. Evelyn's pulse quickened.
"Miss Voss?" His thumb brushed her cheek. "You're flushed. Feverish?"
"N-no!" She stammered. "Just... warm."
"Charming." His dimples deepened.
Evelyn's breath hitched. Adrenaline spiked until the door slammed open.
"Does your research require groping subjects, Doctor?"
Lucian loomed in the doorway, shadows clinging to him like a second skin. Evelyn's momentary infatuation curdled into dread.
The terrifying man provoked her deepest revulsion, needling the most sensitive nerve until hatred coiled thick in her throat.
"Mr. Blackthorne." Nathaniel straightened his lab coat with forced nonchalance. "We were just..."
"Smile at her like that again," Lucian prowled closer, "and I'll suture your lips shut."
Nathaniel's hands flew to cover his mouth. "Noted."
Evelyn glared at the ruined moment with the resident Prince Charming. "When are you releasing me? What's with all these wires?"
"Ask the lab rat." Lucian leaned against a stainless-steel counter, all predatory ease.
Nathaniel adjusted his glasses nervously. "Miss Voss, this diagnostic array helps us monitor your biomarkers. We'll need a blood draw shortly."
"Blood? Why am I your lab monkey?" She jerked against the restraints. "Who gave you the right?"
"I require no permission." Lucian's glare could frost molten steel.
The finality in his voice doused every flicker of hope. Of course he was Lucian Blackthorne. Her opinions meant less than dust.
But even tyrants deserved defiance. She met his gaze head-on.
Since when do gods get to play dictator?
- Writer
