Page 6 of Lycan King’s Claim (Lycan King’s Reign Duet #2)

H e forces his fingers inside me, as if searching for Toby within the depths of my body.

When he's done, my skin is scrubbed raw, even between my legs.

The water burns my skin with ferocity, a reminder of the countless soaps he's drowned me in and the vicious scraping of my skin. My own scent is gone.

He doesn't speak, abruptly standing, and I plunge beneath the water, only to resurface, choking for air. He doesn't even look back to see if I'm all right. Instead, he moves toward the towels, grabbing one and wrapping it around his waist.

I hesitate, climbing out of the water and approaching him from behind.

I pray he doesn't shame me like last time.

The memory of that humiliation lingers, haunting me.

Whenever I see a guard around the castle, I wonder if they watched me or averted their gazes.

Have they seen me at my most vulnerable? Those thoughts consistently linger.

Xandros thrusts a towel at me without a word, I quickly snatch it before he can change his mind.

He glares at me, and I wrap it around myself tightly, my fingers turning white from the strength of my grip.

The burning sensation of the fabric against my skin and the icy fear remain under his deadly gaze until he turns away.

We stride through the castle's halls in silence.

Xandros's anger radiates from him like heat, and I can feel it wrap around me like a storm-filled cloud.

It's suffocating, making it hard to breathe, and all I want is to disappear into the shadows.

The only sound in the hall is the soft slaps of his feet as he strides forward with purpose.

His steps are decisive and determined, as if he were heading into battle. If only that battle wasn't against me.

My own steps are small and timid as I scramble to keep up with him, trying to stay out of his way yet still remain close enough not to anger him.

The atmosphere is heavy and tense, with no indication of when his mood will shift or what could set him off next.

With each step I take, my heart rate rises until I'm sure it will burst out of my chest.

I want nothing more than to be far away from here, away from this war that has broken us apart for so long now.

As much as I hate feeling so scared of Xandros—hating what he has become—it is oddly familiar; it's a rarity.

I never get anything except his anger; however, the absence of his yelling and screaming only makes his cold, hard anger more terrifying.

After what feels like the longest walk, we finally reach the room, and he stops just outside the door, turning back toward me without a word.

His cold glare pierces right through me, pinning me in place like a butterfly on a wall display, utterly helpless against his gaze.

He stares at me for what feels like an eternity before finally opening the door and gesturing inside without a word; an invitation or threat?

Either way, I have no other choice but to enter, only for him to follow closely behind, kicking the door shut as if it did something to him.

I rush to find clothes, slipping on pajamas, and I emerge to find Xandros standing in black pajama pants, his bare chest exposed.

My eyes linger over his body. I try to avoid staring, but I can't, the bond hazing my vision, refusing to detach from the man I am sure would one day be my end.

His body is all hard muscles, tanned skin, and smooth.

It’s perfectly sculpted in all the best ways.

He rummages around, searching for something.

I want to ask him what he's looking for, instead, I hold myself back, his muttering to himself only deepening my unease.

Hesitantly, I move toward the armchair when his growl stops me in my tracks.

I glance at him, and his pointed finger directs my attention to the bed.

"Don't make me force you," he snarls. My eyes widen as I see what he holds in his other hand — handcuffs, the metal taunting me.

I shake my head, taking a step back. "You want to act like a bitch in heat?

I'll treat you like one. Get in the bed, Sienna.

" His voice is a warning, a promise to inflict pain.

Still I refuse; I know all too well what being a prisoner of his bed means.

"Make me drag you here and see what happens. Don't test me right now!" Xandros screams at me with such intensity I flinch. His aura crashes against me, battering every part of me, crushing me under its weight.

There's something different about it, something so potent. It hurts, just not like before. This is crippling and intentional. It brings me to my knees. He growls, moving toward me, his grip on my arm bruising.

"Get up," he snarls, his words falling on deaf ears. He doesn't realize I can't move or breathe as the weight of his aura crushes me. When I can't comply, he drags me, tossing me onto the bed like a lifeless doll.

"Even after what you've done, you dare deny me!" he screams, gripping my shoulder and forcefully rolling me onto my back.

The face that comes into view isn't the one I know.

Red veins twitch across his face, and the whites of his eyes bleed red.

He looks demonic and crazed as he yells at me with such fury that spit covers my face.

The metal of the handcuff pinches my flesh, and once he secures my hand to the headboard, the yelling finally stops.

He stands and gives the handcuff a tug, ensuring no escape.

He exhales loudly, his aura dropping, and I peer at my hand, veins bulging, turning purple from the lack of circulation.

Fear fills me as he abruptly leaves the room.

My breathing becomes fast and frantic as I tug and yank on the handcuffs, the pain intensifying to the point where I'm tempted to bite my hand off just to make it stop.