Two
751 Words
I woke to a pounding headache and a bitter taste on my tongue.
My eyes flew open to an unfamiliar ceiling, its strange triangular and circular shapes blurred as panic surged.
Where the hell was I?
I pushed myself upright too fast and nearly toppled off the four-poster bed. Heavy curtains sealed the windows, choking out the sun. The air smelled of pine and smoke. The room was luxurious, but there was no warmth to it; more like a cage dressed up as a guest suite.
Then it all crashed back into me: the wedding, the strangers, Desmond standing at the altar, alive, and me collapsing into someone’s arms.
I was still in Lycan territory.
Drowning in panic, I fumbled in my pocket and almost sobbed in relief when my fingers closed around my phone.
One text from Rosie glowed on the screen:
Call me when you wake up. Be discreet; don’t let them seize your phone.
My stomach twisted. Seize my phone?
I dialed her number with trembling hands. She answered on the first ring, her voice a frantic whisper.
“Vanessa? Thank God. Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine, I think,” I whispered back, scanning the room for exits. “Where are you? Why aren’t you here?”
“You fainted, and those Alpha heirs wouldn’t let me stay,” Rosie said quickly. “I’m with Professor Hale, a few miles away. Listen—be careful. They said you can’t leave until they decide what to do with you.”
“They decide?” My voice rose, sharp and tight. I forced it down. “Rosie, I didn’t do anything wrong! I came here because I thought Desmond was dead. That lying bastard faked his death, and now I’m—what—a prisoner?”
“Shh,” she hissed. “Please, Ness. The professor’s trying to negotiate with them, but you need to stay calm. They don’t think you’re ordinary. There’s something about you. They—”
The floorboards creaked outside the door.
“Someone’s coming,” I whispered. “I’ll call you back.”
I shoved the phone beneath the pillow just as the door swung open.
The Lycan who’d caught me when I fainted stepped inside. Dark hair neatly parted, broad shoulders wrapped in a black leather jacket. His icy gray eyes tracked every move I made.
He held out a bottle of water. “Drink. You’re dehydrated.”
I didn’t move. “I don’t want your water. I want to leave.”
He gave a humorless chuckle. “Leaving isn’t on the table.”
“Why?” My glare sharpened. “You Lycans walk into human territory whenever you please. Nobody stops you, nobody cages you. But I come here to mourn someone I loved, and suddenly I’m locked up like a criminal?”
His mouth curved slightly, though there was no kindness in it.
“Criminal? No.” His gaze swept over me slowly. “But you’re… interesting.”
A chill slid down my spine. “That’s not an answer.”
Before he could respond, the door burst open.
Another Lycan strolled in, this one with black hair streaked gold at the ends, tied half-up, half-down. His rich cologne hit first. His gray eyes sparkled with mischief as his mouth curled into a smirk.
“Well, well,” he drawled, circling me like a predator. “Sleeping Beauty’s awake.”
“Get out, Nicolas,” the first Lycan snapped, his voice ice.
The newcomer ignored him and leaned close, so close my skin crawled. He inhaled deeply, his grin widening into something feral.
“You smell… different,” he murmured. “Sweet. Rare.”
My breath hitched. “W-what?”
The first Lycan growled, the sound vibrating through the floor.
“Back. Off.”
“Or what?” his brother challenged him. “She’s not yours. You have no claim.”
While they were locked in their standoff, I inched toward the door, nervous, praying it wasn’t locked. My palm was slick as it closed around the handle.
I yanked it open and slammed straight into a wall of muscle.
No. Not a wall. The third Lycan.
His hair was tied into a single braid, a gold nose ring glinting in the dim light. His storm-gray eyes were softer than his brothers’, but no less intense.
His hand gripped my arm gently, almost tenderly. Then he leaned in and inhaled, his breath brushing my throat.
My entire body froze.
What the f**k?
- Writer
