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Chapter 13
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Sienna POV
I can hear King Xandros arguing on the phone. It is nerve-wracking trying to pee when the door is wide open, even though he is standing side-on and not even looking in my direction. After finally relieving my bladder, I desperately want to shower. Peering out the door, he is still on the phone. I want to close the door but instead hide around the corner, ripping off the last remnants of clothes on my body, which is just a shirt. My hands are covered in blood, and so am I. It smells sickly sweet yet coppery at the same time. My skin feels sticky and gross.
My skin itches and crawls. One thing I’ve always hated about being scared is it makes me itch. And a shower seems a good enough reason to get away from him. So I turn the shower on, checking the temperature with my hand before stripping my clothes off and stepping in.
Hopefully, he leaves, so I can try to find a way out of here. Maybe I can shimmy down a drainpipe. I conjure up multiple ways to escape when the shower screen door opens.
The draft is cold against my back, and I instantly jump, twisting as I do and moving away to see his intimidating form step into the shower. I glance up at him with wide eyes as he towers over me.
His eyes run the length of me, and I take another step back. Becoming drenched in the scalding hot water when my back hits. the tiles. His gaze was intense, scrutinizing me from head to toe with a piercing stare that made me feel exposed and vulnerable.
I cover my chest by folding my arms. His eyes flicker at the movement, and he steps closer, caging me in against the wall as
he puts his face under the water. I stare at the hard plains of his chest as the water cascades down his sun-kissed skin.
The hot steam fills the small bathroom as I admire his body. His strong, toned muscles look like they have been crafted from marble, each line and ripple perfectly placed. The more I take him in, the more I become aware of my heart racing as I look him over, and feel a strange, unfamiliar yearning to touch him writhe through
me.
His scent is tantalizing and thick in the air of musk and earth, with a hint of sandalwood; he doesn’t just look manly and intimidating. He smells it. His scent is intoxicating as it overwhelms my senses. I suddenly want to move closer to him, but the rational part of my brain holds me back. The foreign instincts scared me, making it difficult to comprehend what is happening.
He takes a step closer toward me, his deep dark eyes staring into mine, framed with thick lashes I am jealous of. His hand reaches out to cup my cheek, yet instead of pain and anger, he is quite gentle, and I gasp, feeling the slight tingles p rickl ing my skin with heat.
“It’s the mate bond,” he tells me softly. “The closer you get to shifting, the stronger it will become.” The thought frightens and excites me simultaneously, leaving me confused about what lay ahead. I didn’t want to be with this man. I don’t even know him, and with his scent clouding my mind in this closed-in space, all I want to do is give in to the foreign urge to touch him.
The steam-filled shower seems to amplify the scent of his body, a heady combination of musk and sandalwood that is both dizzying and intoxicating. As I look over him, my eyes traveling across every hard-cut muscle, I feel desire so strong stirring within me it makes me hold my breath.
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He must sense the tension between us because he steps closer, leaning in until our faces are only inches apart. “You don’t know if you want to run to me or from me,” he murmurs in a low voice that sends a shiver down my spine. His hand on my face moves as he runs his thumb along my lower lip before tracing his fingertips. lightly down the line of her jaw.
The air seems to spark and zap around us as we stand there, locked in each other’s gaze. The energy between us slowly builds until it feels like it will consume me. His hand then moves slowly down my arm until it finds its place on my waist, where it begins to trace circles around my hipbone in an almost hypnotic rhythm that has all of my senses on full alert.
His voice then drops another octave as he steps closer, and his breath sweeps over my neck. My heart races erratically at his closeness, my mind foggy as my senses become overloaded by his mere presence.
Instinct wins over me as I blink rapidly, trying to fight the urge to move closer, to touch him. He seems to be enjoying watching me struggle by the smirk on his lips. The next second I slam against his hard chest, and tears pr ic k my eyes as my lips crash against his chest.
His hand slips into my hair while my brain fights with my body which suddenly feels alien to me. My nails rake down his flesh like a trying to carve my way inside him. It didn’t feel like this when I woke up. Nothing but fear enveloped me then, but now burning lust has taken over.
A strangled noise leaves my lips, caught between a moan and a whimper of frustration.
“It is natural for you to feel this way. My scent is strong in here
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from the steam. You’ll learn to fight the urges. By then, you won’t want to fight them, though.” He chuckles.
My heart races as he pulls away slightly. He leans down so our faces are still close together as I peer into his eyes, searching for answers I can’t find within myself. He gently caresses my cheek with the pad of his thumb before speaking again.
“It’s normal, Sienna. If you want to touch me, you can,” he whispers softly before leaning closer and pressing his lips to my forehead. The action sends shivers down my spine without warning. “Don’t worry; I feel the same. It’s distracting and antagonizing. I want you more than anything. I can barely control myself around you.”
His words are both darkly seductive and frightening at the same time. This causes a rush of emotions I didn’t know how to process or express except through the intense heat pooling in the pit of my stomach. When he steps away, I step closer, and he chuckles, reaching for the soap beside me.
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My eyes fly open to find Xandros has the woman by her throat, his face a mask of pure rage. He tightens his grip, and she gasps in pain.
“You will not touch her,” he growls through gritted teeth. He releases her throat, and she backs away, her eyes wide with fear while I stare between them.
“You would pick some f ucking random b it ch over the future of your kingdom!” she yells, and I flinch.
“She is my mate!” He yells at her.
“And you’re my husband!” she sneers, clutching her chest.
“I didn’t ask for this!” he yells back at her, and his words pain me more than they should. Like I am a second choice to her, and why wouldn’t I be? He didn’t want me, and I don’t want him either, yet why did those words carve through my chest like a hot knife? I clutch my towel closer, shrinking in on myself.
Suddenly, I feel dirty, like an intruder, a home-wrecker, when I have done nothing wrong. I didn’t ask for this. I try not to listen to them argue. That’s his wife, I am… I am… what was I to him then? Why bring me here claiming I am his mate when he is married? He has a wife, so what use is mate?
“Exactly where do you expect me to f ucking go?” she snaps at him, making me look up at them from my spot on the floor.
“Home, go home, Carina!” she scoffs.
“And humiliate myself even more? Should I tell my father that my husband chose some sl ut he stumbled across in the city?” she scoffs and shakes her head.
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Xandros growls and presses his lips together when she speaks
again. “I need blood. Either let me feed on your wh ore or give me yours!” the feral growl that leaves him at her words gives me goosebumps.
“Fine, just leave. I will return to the room in a minute,” he tells her, and I blink up at him. He will let her feed off him?
She looks at me one last time with a look that says I am nothing but trash before turning and fleeing. I watch her go, my heart pounding in my chest. When, I turn to face Xandros, I cringe when I find him glaring at me.
His face is filled with a mixture of anger and disgust, and I can feel the tension radiating from him. He takes a step forward, looming over me, and I am frozen in place, unable to move or speak.
“Did you hit her?” He snarls at me. I stare at him in disbelief before looking at the door she just left out through. He growls and grabs my face, forcing my gaze back to his.
“I asked you a question. Yes or No! Did you hit Princess Dresden?” His tone is menacing, and his grip on my face is tight. His eyes are burning into mine, searching for an answer.
“Yes… she attacked–” my words were cut off when his grip grows impossibly tight, my cheeks pressing into my teeth that felt like they’d snap under the pressure of his grip at any moment.
“Do you know what you’ve done? I leave for ten minutes, and you f ucking provoke her. What you’ve done is punishable by death. Until you mark me, you’re nothing but a f ucking commoner, a…” he screams in my face while his twists into that of a Lycan. Sharp canines protrude, and his claws stab into my cheeks.
“A side w h ore,” I barely manage to answer for him, and I feel my
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teeth slice through the inside of my cheek. A whimper escapes me, my lips trembling when he gasps, letting me go. He sucks in a deep breath while I stare at the floor. How is it possible that I actually want to go home back to my uncle? I never thought I would see the day when I would welcome his fists.
“Sienna, I didn’t mean it like that.” He exhales loudly, and I wipe my cheek, my blood smearing over the back of my hand when he moves with those inhuman movements and jerks my face up. Only this time, his grip is gentler. He curses, licking the pad of his thumb and moving it toward my face. I jerk my face out of his grip.
“I’m trying to heal you,” he snaps at me, reaching for my face again, but I pull away. His hand falls away, and he stares at me, his face a mask of frustration. He takes a deep breath and steps back, turning away from me. I watch him silently, my heart pounding in my chest.
“Go feed your wife,” I tell him. Those words pierce my soul as I speak them. How is it possible to feel so strongly about someone I hate?
He turns to me, his eyes full of pain and anger. He stares at me for what feels like an eternity, then he turns and walks away without a word. I watch him leave, my chest tightens, and he slams the door behind him. I stare at the door for a second before hearing it lock. Forcing myself to my feet, I quietly approach the door, only to discover that he has locked me in like a prisoner, just as I thought he did.
Turning back to the room, I move toward the large mahogany dresser with a huge mirror attached to it. Peering into the mirror, I can see her finger marks etched into my neck. I touch the bruising. indents before my eyes move to my face, four puncture marks on. one side. However, the one where his thumb was, is the deepest,
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blood oozing and trickling down my cheek and neck.
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Seeing those ga sh es reminds me of the monster that has me in his grasp. Thinking about that, I look down at my hands, almost like I can still see my uncle’s blood coating them. My hands are now clean since I’ve showered, but I can’t help but think I will become the same monster Xandros is. What I did to him was no better. I killed someone, and I killed my family. I’m no better than my parents.
So with that, I rummage for some clothes, anything besides the wet towel that makes me cold. Digging through a drawer, I find an old shirt. I slide it over my head. Then remove the towel and
wander back into the bathroom to hang it up. 30
parents’ Karma, or maybe mine.
Maybe this is my
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