Chapter Two

“If you weren’t so messed up on the tranquilizer, you would’ve noticed me sooner.” The lady lycan picked at a cuticle, a deceiving action to hint at relaxation while everything about her remained tense and ready for battle. “I could’ve already killed you six times in six different ways.”

Breeding room? Ky’s mind spun with options for escape while he said distractedly, “I like your optimism.”

“You’re new to this show, huh? Little warning: the first time or two with the drug sucks. It’ll make your equilibrium crap for days, mess with your memory, and probably give you the runs. And the headaches—awful.” Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t even think of crossing to my side of the room. If your dick comes within two feet of me, I’ll rip it off and strangle you with it.”

That voice, throaty with soul. There was nothing typical about this woman. Full moon and hormones aside, he wanted to know the person who would fight to hold her own against him, when it was obvious size alone was in his favor. “I’m flattered you think there’s enough of me to use for a garrote.”

With an irritated exhale, she leaned back against the wall. “Figures you’d focus on size. You alphas and your egos. Look, I’m not going to get it on with you, regardless of how attractive you are, or with anyone in this house of horrors.” She uncrossed her legs and turned farther away from him as if something uncomfortable roiled through her. Over her shoulder, she said, “Touch me and I’ll kill you.”

“I won’t cross the room.” He rotated away from her to hide the physical evidence of how much she affected him. He wouldn’t touch her because he didn’t know her and because she asked him not to. So what if she was the single most beautiful and kickass female he’d ever been incarcerated with in the same room?

Strangle him with his own dick? He bit back a smile. That was cute.

Damn…she smelled so sweet, like homecoming and freshness. And she looked amazing in the exercise getup. He tried not to look at her, but even out of his peripheral vision, the way the cloth outlined the perfect curves of her chest and her nipples pressed tight against the top enticed him to stare. And that glorious hair…dark and wavy. It fell to her mid back. He supposed their jailors refused her hair ties. Even those could be weaponized.

He hadn’t felt this kind of attraction in a long time. Certainly not since he shut the door on meaningful sex two decades ago. Random hookups with his kind were taboo. The mating-and-forever business wasn’t in the cards for someone like him. He wasn’t a monk, though. His encounters consisted of consensual no-strings-attached episodes with human women, after which he could compel them to forget him. Unlike a lycan. Voice coercion didn’t work on his own kind.

No one had ever lit him up like this. One glance back at her found her sneaking a peek at him, too.

Hormones. Moon madness.

Even though the pheromones plus moon madness were enough to drive him borderline insane, he wouldn’t break his promise to her. No touching!

He wanted to knock his head into the wall.

Had the monarch wanted this? Had he been loaned out to breed? He might answer to the Crown when it came to hunting down paranormal threats, but he was no one’s stud horse. That was not a part of the curse forced on him and his three brothers: By this blood you are bound to the monarch of England to support and defend the nation and its people against preternatural enemies, to protect the innocent, and to serve for all the days you live.

In his mind, this situation clearly invoked the protect the innocent clause. The “innocent” being her.

Nowhere in that twisted contract did it say he’d provide a new generation of paranormal super-soldiers for the monarch or anyone else. But if there were more lycans to serve the Crown then there would be more available to protect the world. He’d rather the curse killed him than provide a child who got ripped away and forced into this kind of servitude.

He didn’t fool himself into thinking the king and his handler thought he or his brothers were anything other than abominations, but they’d never treated him and his brothers like animals. Never like this. Sure, there was a lot of condescension. He’d like to think he, Roman, and Flynn had earned respect after decades of fighting things no one else in the world could handle. Paranormal things that sometimes even they had trouble containing. Arguably, their job was important, even if it sucked 100 percent of the time.

He was alone on this mission; there was no backup—no brother talking into an ear communicator, waiting in the wings to rescue him if things passed beyond what he could handle. Like right the fuck now.

What he wouldn’t give to call in this soup sandwich and get backup. He wanted out.

Ky had broken the brothers’ unwritten rule in doing this solo. The Lanzo brothers worked as a team. Flynn did tech. Ky did weapons and analysis. Roman, their designated leader and eldest brother, worked magic. Their youngest brother, Shane, died a few years ago. Roman would go nuclear on Ky when he found out he’d gone on a mission alone, even if he might understand he’d been under the king’s command.

The second he got a chance, he’d contact Roman or Flynn. Bad news was, none of them carried cell phones for fear of being tracked. Old school, for sure.

That scent of her… Christ, he was in trouble.

I will not get involved with someone like her. Not with a woman who, within a few minutes, evoked a whole lot more than a drive for easy sex—like the desire to protect her, know her, and even hear her speak.

Buuut… He relished sex and could imagine a whole hell of a lot with her. Even he had a breaking point.

The lycan female stared at him from her perch across the room, wary and antagonistic.

“Stop stressing. You’re not my type,” he managed to rasp out.

“You’re a shitty liar. You’ll try to get close because you can’t resist, but you won’t succeed. Did you have moon-madness serum on board before they brought you in?”

He nodded, not that it’d be much good with her like this. The serum dulled the cravings. It didn’t cure them. “You’re safe from me.”

They watched each other for an indefinite time, gauging each other’s resolve.

Lightning flashed across the sky through the skylights, breaking their stare-down. The wind howled outside.

“Where are we?” he asked.

She glanced up. “I don’t know. They move us around a lot. Main human in charge speaks German. You’re bleeding through your shirt. Are you going to die on me?”

He leaned against the wall to hide his back. “It’d solve your problem if I did, wouldn’t it?” He crossed his arms over his chest and disregarded the pain. His back would heal within the hour. “Have you been here a while?”

“I’ve tried to keep track of time. I got caught in May. So a few months. The drug makes me lose track of time. They’ll hit you with it every time they need to move you out of the cell or change facilities.”

“How often do they move us?”

“Seems like a lot. They’ve upgraded the collar two or three times.” She tugged at the metal around her neck. “It all gets fuzzy since they knock me out, and I wake up in a new cell. At least this one has the skylights.” She stared upward.

In silence, they watched the rain bands across the skylights. Minutes seemed like hours, but he figured he’d survived at least two hours. So what was another eight to ten until the sun came up and hid the moon?

“What’s the date?” she asked.

He rattled off the date.

She shot upright to a sit. “You’re messing with me, right? I’ve been in here for two years?”