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No screaming, no paralysis, no weakness.
My werewolf venom has failed me. Xavier must come to the same realization because his expression changes from one of anger to one of confusion, then smugness.
Seriously, how is this my life?
I jump from the bed and pace the room. “I don’t turn when the moon is full, and now I don’t have venom. URRGHH,” I scream, the sound echoing off the walls. “I’m going to be stuck in this house with an undead freak forever, and I have no idea how to get out of here.”
“Lyra, stop,” Xavier’s deep voice commands, making me freeze in my tracks.
Like a god, he rises from the bed. Oblivious to his nakedness, he strides across the room, his muscles rippling with power. He comes to a stop in front of me, and it takes everything I have to keep my eyes trained on his face and not allow my gaze to wander over his body.
He puts his hands on my shoulders. “Something happened between us last night. Did you not feel it? The energy, the colors, and the way our souls seemed to connect and intertwine. I couldn’t let you leave without understanding what it meant.”
My mind races as I remember the storm of emotions that had engulfed me the night before. Reality seemed to blur and twist as the universe shook with our power. Our souls tangled together in a way that defied explanation, as if fate itself brought us together. The colors surrounding us were so vivid and alive, moving and pulsing with a wild and chaotic energy that danced to some primitive beat.
I barely keep the grimace from forming on my face because I can’t admit any of that to Xavier. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We slept together, shared a couple of orgasms, and that’s it,” I reply, trying to sound calm despite the pounding of my heart. “I don’t understand you. One moment you sound as if you were born in the eighteenth century, then you drag me to your bedroom and your dirty mouth comes out to play, and the next moment you turn into a romantic sap begging me to stay.”
“To be fair, I was born in the eighteenth century, and I have many talents, which you will learn if you stay.”
“I can’t stay here. My brothers will come looking for me, and do you know what will happen if my pack finds me with you? I’ll be banished, cast out on my own, and a wolf without a pack is as good as dead. That’s only if my pack doesn’t decide to kill me themselves.”
“I won’t allow them to harm you,” he growls.
“You won’t have a choice. The pack has rules, and they need to be obeyed. I’m already on thin ice with being a half-blood. Please lift the spell and let me go.”
“There are only two ways to lift the spell. Either my friend Marcus, the warlock who cast it, lifts it, or it breaks with my death.” He shakes his head. “I won’t ask Marcus to lift the spell because I can’t let you go.”
“Well then, death it is. I refuse to stay here, and if I have to kill you to leave, then so be it.”
He laughs, a rich, warm sound, but it grates on my nerves like sandpaper. “Good luck, little wolf. I’m sure your next attempts will be as amusing as your first attempt.” He releases my shoulders and strides in the direction of the bathroom. “You are very welcome to join me in the shower, in fact, I insist you do. Perhaps we can conduct an experiment to see if vampires can drown.”
I resist the urge to punch him in the face and check out his firm ass instead. The image of him in the shower, the water cascading down his toned body, darkening his hair, and glistening on his skin, has me tingling all over.
Disgust twists my features as I realize he still has a hold over me. “If you think I’ll join you after what you’ve done to me, you’re out of your mind, Dracula wannabe.”
“Suit yourself, wolf,” he replies with a shrug. “There are clothes for you in the armoire, and the kitchen is fully stocked with anything you may need. Make yourself at home.”
My lips curl into a snarl, and my hands ball into fists. This is not a home; it is a cage. A gilded cage, perhaps, but a cage, nonetheless. Xavier Thorne thinks he has me under his thumb, but I will not be his pawn forever. I will wait for the right moment, the opportune moment to strike.
I will not allow myself to be distracted again. I will not fall prey to Xavier’s charms, no matter how tempting they are. I have learned that lesson the hard way.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Lyra
Igrowllowinmy throat, feeling my sharp canines lengthen as I pace around Xavier’s fancy living room. Each step is a release of tension, a physical display of the anger that roils inside me. Blood-red silk curtains hang heavily from the ceiling, pooling on the floor like spilled wine. The couches are upholstered in deep burgundy velvet, their curves like the fat, swollen bodies of blood-sucking parasites—not the vampire kind, mind you. The rug beneath my feet is a thick, plush pile of scarlet, as if the very floor is bleeding—stupid leech. Can he be any more obvious in his vile obsession with blood? My nostrils flare, picking up the scent of copper and rust emanating from every crimson piece in the room. It’s like he is deliberately trying to provoke me. I have been trapped in his cursed mansion for what feels like an eternity, which is in fact only a day. It’s all Xavier’s doing, of course. It isn’t only his doing. The spell cast by his so-called friend, Marcus, is just as guilty.
I tried everything to escape, but each attempt was met with failure and Xavier’s laughter. The magical shield that bars the doorway is unbreakable—an invisible wall that mocks me with its resistance. I threw myself at it over and over again, only to be lobbed back onto the plush carpet like a rag doll. I searched for hidden exits, clawing at the walls and tearing through the drapes, but all my efforts were in vain. The house is a maze, a labyrinth designed to trap and ensnare.
I’m like a wild animal caught with my paw stuck in a steel trap.
Xavier has me exactly where he wants me, and he is enjoying every second of my imprisonment. I glance down at the red dress that Xavier bought me as part of my new wardrobe and snort in disgust. It’s absurd. I am a leather pants and crop top kind of girl, rough and wild. How am I meant to live up to my full potential in a red satin dress that sticks to every part of my body like a second skin? Xavier has no clue who I am, and his attempts to mold me into his perfect pet are nothing more than a joke. My fingers itch to tear the dress to shreds, to rip the satin fabric, and to burn it in the fireplace.
Xavier thinks he has me trapped and that I am powerless in his grip, but he is mistaken. I am a force to be reckoned with, one that will bring his world crashing down around him. He can’t keep me here forever, no matter how many obstacles he throws in my path. My mind whirls with ideas, with plans forming like lightning strikes. I will outsmart him and outmaneuver him, and when I finally emerge on top, he will pay for what he has done to me. I will make him suffer, make him regret the day he ever crossed me.
He may not sleep in a coffin, but I am going to put him in one permanently.
The room is eerily quiet; the only sound is the ticking of an old grandfather clock in the corner. I pace around, my eyes never leaving the door. Xavier disappeared earlier, no doubt on the prowl for his next victim. Is it wrong that I am jealous at the thought of him feeding on another woman? Will he have sex with her while he feeds? Will he touch her the way he touched me last night? I wasn’t born under a rock; I’ve heard the stories of the bliss humans experience when they are fed on by vampires while they have sex. The thought of him doing that with someone else almost makes me go feral, my inner wolf clawing to come out. It’s the perfect time for her to show herself and give me the strength and instincts I need to break free from Xavier’s grasp. I try to shake off the thoughts, but they persist like a bad smell. He’s not going to feed on me; I can guarantee him that much.
