Page 9 of Lycan King’s Claim (Lycan King’s Reign Duet #2)

I shuffle away from him, the pain in my shoulder making it hard to move. "Don't touch me," I hiss through gritted teeth.

Xandros stops in his tracks, frozen by my words.

I flinch as he reaches out to touch me, I close my eyes and wait for the inevitable pain that will come with it.

It never comes. Instead, all I feel is gentle pressure on my shoulder as Xandros examines the wound he inflicted upon me.

His hand is warm against my skin, and for a moment, I let myself lean into his touch, the pain in my shoulder momentarily forgotten.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he repeats softly, his voice filled with regret. "I don't know what came over me."

I open my eyes, staring up at him. His eyes are dark pools filled with a mix of emotions that I can't decipher. "I'll get you cleaned up," he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

I’m surprised by his sudden change in demeanor. "You can go; I'm sure Javier will be by soon; I'll be fine," I tell him, my voice hoarse from the strain of screaming. His proximity is tormenting my bond; I prefer it to remain numb, and I don't want his guilt awakening it.

Xandros looks up at me, his eyes softening. "You're probably right," he says simply before standing and heading to the bathroom to grab some supplies.

I don't know what to make of his sudden behavior change. I let him clean up my wound. As he works, the wound bleeds more, refusing to heal. Xandros purses his lips, looking at it, annoyed. "You're not healing," he mumbles.

Xandros bites his wrist, lifting it toward me, and I turn my face away.

"Let me heal you," he tells me. All I can think is the bond re-awakening.

I can't help wondering if this is all just another game to him, another way for him to assert control over me.

Or just to soothe his guilt. Then again, a part of me wants to believe he truly cares. "Sienna!" he urges.

"I don't want it!" I tell him. "It'll heal, just wrap it so you can leave," I tell him.

When he finishes dressing my wound, he looks at me with an intensity that sends shivers down my spine. I give up trying to read his expression, turning my face away to stare at the fireplace. He wraps it in some gauze. "I'll send Javier up with proper first aid," he says simply before leaving.

When he does, I return to the fireplace, sitting in front of it, trying to get warm. Blood soaks through my shirt, and not even five minutes later, Javier rushes in, then stops in his tracks.

He stares at my state of me, then he suddenly rips at my clothes.

I hear him gasp, wondering how bad it is.

Trying to see it, I peer over my shoulder to see the jagged wounds.

Javier opens his mouth to speak, then growls when he can't. He holds a finger up, leaves the room, and returns with a notepad and pencil. He writes on the pad, showing me.

Why didn't he heal you?

"He tried, I refused," I tell him, and his brows furrow before hastily scribbling.

Why?

I shake my head, and he taps his notepad fiercely with his finger, wanting me to answer. Sighing, I answer. "Because his blood will awaken the bond," I whisper. Javier hangs his head and grips his hair in frustration, making me wonder how many times I sent him to bed with a headache.

He sits back, opening the first aid kit, which looks hospital-grade. He rummages around, pulling out a needle. I scoot away from him, and he growls, then snatches his pad and pencil.

Either stitches, or you let him heal you!

I glare at the needle, then give him my back. He sighs loudly and rummages around. I stare at the fire, trying to ignore what he's doing. It hurts. I keep moving away, only for him to drag me back.

It takes nearly an hour for him to stitch it, his efforts interrupted by constant attempts to convince me to let Xandros heal me. It isn't worth the torment.

When he's done, I look like a stitched rag doll.

Javier grabs his notepad and pencil.

I'm not a doctor. It will hold.

Javier then gets up to leave, and I stop him.

"Javier?" he pauses, turning to look at me.

"Maybe you can ask if I can go outside."

He frowns, and I know it’s because every day I make him ask, and every day the answer is the same.

"Even just five minutes, or maybe ask if you can open the window for a little bit," I ask him, staring over at the window. He nods once, then leaves me to silence.

Caked in drying blood, I get up to move toward the bathroom, yet as I stand, I feel vertigo wash over me.

I stagger to the bathroom and turn the taps on, the pipes creak, and I shed the rest of my clothes off, noting that Javier brought me a fresh set.

I cringe as I step under the icy water, and out of habit, I twist on the hot water.

Nothing.

I snatch the soap, trying to wash. When I feel the temperature change, my brows furrow, thinking I imagined it before I switch the cold off.

The other tap dribbles out, and I place my hand under it, only to find it hot.

My eyes widen, and I twist the tap on, letting the water pelt out only to shriek as it burns me; I quickly fumble with the cold adjusting it.

Stepping under the water, it burns my ice-cold skin, however, I don't care; it's warmth, something I haven't felt in a week. I scrub myself, actually feeling clean for once, before I feel the water goes cold from standing under it for so long.

Tears burn my eyes, and I pray it's just run out, and he hasn't switched it off again.

Stepping out, my shoulder stings, and I wrap a towel around myself before wrapping my hair.

I will probably get the flu from how cold it is and having wet hair.

I wonder briefly if Lycans can get sick with the common cold.

Shaking away the silly thoughts, I wander out to the bedroom to find Xandros sitting on the end of the bed.

"Javier said you wanted to go outside," he answers, turning to look at me.

"You aren't stepping foot outside this castle," he answers.

I swallow, wondering why he came back then.

When he points to the mantle, a coat hanger with my old uniform hangs from it.

"You can go back to normal duties once your shoulder heals, since you won't let me heal you," he tells me.

"I can go back; I can work," I plead.

"You're injured," he argues.

"I can still work," I tell him.

"Let me heal you." he says flatly. I stare at the uniform; I desperately want out of this room. Is it worth the agony the bond will cause me if I let him?

"Sienna, you can't work?—"

"Fine," I answer, giving in; now I feel like an idiot suffering through getting stitches. He doesn't hesitate, almost like he is worried I'll change my mind. When it occurs to me he might.

"Wait," he growls angrily and opens his mouth to argue, I beat him to it.

"What's stopping you from locking me in here and refusing once you do?" I ask him, and he pinches the skin between his brows. "I won't!" he says in frustration.

I don't believe him; I know he's only doing this for one of two reasons, my injury is causing him pain or to soothe his bond that would be gnawing at him for hurting me.

His jaw clenches. "Get dressed; I will heal you once I drop you to Carina," he snaps at me. My eyes widen; he's really letting me leave the room. I rush to get changed, pulling the clothes on without even drying myself properly. Xandros stalks toward the door and opens it while I slip my flats on.

And now, at last, he releases me from my prison, only to place me back in the position of Carina's lowly handmaiden. I don't care. I am free from this room. No longer grounded like a teenager. Unless this is a once-off.

He takes me to Carina, who offers a sad smile and says nothing about my presence.

I desperately want to ask her about Toby. No one has said a word. I know better than to ask Xandros.

The moment we enter the room, Xandros forces his blood down my throat. I gulp it down, trying not to choke as it floods my mouth.

He then looks at Carina.

"She's fine with me, Xandros," Carina states, and he nods once before leaving the room.

I follow Carina around all day. She gives me no tasks, and I wish she would.

I ask about Toby, she says nothing or pretends not to hear.

Xandros treats me with icy indifference, barely sparing me a glance as we cross paths.

The bond that once thrived between us now simmers with chaos, like a storm brewing within, tearing at the fragile threads of our connection.

It feels as though a part of me is wilting away, decaying into nothingness.

Sickness has consumed me, my stomach a constant battlefield of pain, and I find myself unable to eat when Carina asks me to join her and Adina for lunch in the library.

However, later that night, once back in my room.

I strip off my clothes and I am about to tend to the tedious task of removing the stitches when I find it isn't quite healed.

Instead, the skin is black and hot to the touch, and still painful.

I stare at it for a few seconds; it's closed now, though it looks oddly infected.

I’m shocked when Javier comes in early with a new uniform the following day. "He's letting me out again?" Javier nods and smiles while I race to get changed. Only when he drops me to Carina and Xandros's room do I discover Carina's absence, and instead, I find myself accompanying Xandros's mother.

"Oh, for frig sake, Xandros, I will be right beside her!

I won't let her run, and I doubt she'll try, anyway.

" his mother argues with him while I wait patiently against the wall.

I know if he says no, I will be locked in my room again.

Xandros grits his teeth, glaring over at me.

He growls and shakes his head. His mother tosses her hands in the air in frustration.