Page 22 of The Lycans: Vol Four

He reached out a hand and snagged a piece of my hair. I tensed as I watched him bring it up, his brows pulled low as he rubbed it between his fingers, watching the action.

His lips were pinched, his nostrils flared, and then he lifted his gaze to mine. I could see the hatred he had for me on his face, reflected in his eyes. He was at war with himself and his clear, depraved desire for me.

“I’m not supposed to be down here,” he repeated, almost to himself, as he kept rubbing the key card between his fingers while he stared into my eyes. “I had to pull a lot of strings, move things around so nobody knows, so the cameras don’t see real-time movement while I’m here.” He dropped his voice even lower and said, “So it’s just you and me for a little bit.”

My throat tightened, and I exhaled roughly, trying to control my breathing. I knew showing a man like this any kind of fear would only instigate the situation, probably turn him on even more.

“I’m not the only one, you know. There are others who are curious about what it would be like…”

I knew exactly what he was talking about, and it turned my blood cold.

Play along, I thought. Make him think you won’t fight. Of course it went against everything I believed, every grain in my body revolting.

I didn’t want him to touch me, not even a lock of my hair. To have anyone touch me felt abhorrent, as if my skin was being pulled from my bones. And when he placed his other hand on my shoulder, I couldn’t hide the shiver that moved through me.

“We’re going to keep this our secret, aren’t we.” It wasn’t phrased as a question.

Because he and I both knew he’d do whatever he wanted. Yet him mentioning that made me think that if he were caught here with me, things would be very bad for him.

I still said nothing, trying to keep my breathing even, but I knew I was failing. I could scent his dark intent, could smell his lust for me.

But I would not allow him to violate me in that way. Even if fighting back right now killed me.

I’d fight with every ounce of strength I possessed.

And so I lifted my hand, and saw his body visibly tense as his gaze watched the movement. I froze for just a millisecond before continuing, sliding my hand through his dark-blond hair, my nails scratching his scalp until a low groan left him.

I didn’t show any outward emotion that this small touch disgusted me, nauseated me to the point where I felt like I would gag.

I watched as his lips parted, and his breathing started coming faster and stronger. I tightened my fingers in his hair a little bit more, looked up at him through the fall of my lashes, and forced myself to smile.

And then, with his guard down and the scent of his twisted lust hanging in the air, I pushed his head as hard as I could against the bars of the cell.

Time stood still, as the sound of his skull cracking against the metal was deafening, sickening. His eyes widened, his teeth clashed together, and I worried I’d made a horrible mistake, that my strength was nothing compared to his, so I’d made things even worse.

Although all of this happened within a matter of seconds, it felt like time slowed as our gazes stayed locked.

But then I smelled the scent of blood, watched his eyes roll back in his head, his mouth going slack, and then he sank to the floor, his knees hitting the cement before his upper body went parallel with it.

I wasn’t foolish enough to stand there and marvel at the fact that I’d taken him down. Because I had no idea how long it would last.

Acting faster than I thought was humanly or inhumanly possible, I was with it enough to grab his key card and dart out of the cell. I was breathing frantically, no longer able to hold on to my control, as I quickly made my way down the corridor until I got to the door.

I had watched them enter and exit enough times that I knew the process of swiping the heavy piece of plastic across the sensor and putting in the three-digit code that would disengage the lock.

The lock clicked, and I pulled the door open, telling myself to focus and calm down so I could perceive any threats.

I wasn’t so inherently stupid that I thought this haphazard “plan” of mine would actually work. But not trying wasn’t an option.

So I took a left, knowing it wouldn’t matter if I’d gone in the opposite direction. My chances of finding an exit were the same, and I was going to be in a maze either way.

I kept one hand on the cinder-block wall as I walked fast, my bare feet hardly making any sounds on the hard, frigid floor. I passed doors upon doors, thick metal, which I knew led to other cell blocks.

I could hear my panting, and no matter what I did to try and control my breathing, I was running on pure adrenaline right now. Beads of perspiration slid down my temples and along the side of my face; my heart was racing, and my body felt flushed.

When I rounded another corner, I was greeted with a long corridor with cells lining either side. I stood there for a second, holding my breath, not seeing anyone but knowing I wasn’t alone. I smelled the Otherworlders filling those cells.

I looked to my left, back where I came from. I could try to go another way, take different turns and not risk going this way, which would probably cause the prisoners to get rowdy and vicious, which would draw attention. But as it was, I just wanted to keep moving.

---