Page 22 of Lycan

“Yes. The pump and boiler are on.” That wasn’t what I was going to ask, but mentioning Pam right now was a bad idea so I clamped my lips shut. He’d lost his patience . . . and his mind.

I turned the handle and water spouted from the shower head. Cold water spit at me and I shivered, hugging myself. He pulled the glass door shut, preventing the water from escaping but still letting him see me. Once the water warmed, I grabbed the rag I used to scrub my body and rubbed the homemade bar of soap on the fabric.

He watched me, eyes hard. I swallowed and scrubbed my body almost violently, as if I could scratch away the crawling sensation of him watching me.

“Do not get out until I return for you.” His eyes seemed like they belonged to someone else. They were maddened—as if he’d snapped. My stomach soured.

He slammed the door shut. The lock snicked from the other side, trapping me in the bathroom. A long time ago, he’d installed the doorknob backwards . . . had it been on purpose this entire time?

TWELVE

MIA

I heldonto his promise of taking me to Pam and bathed the sex and dirt off me. I scrubbed at the little marks on my body. Most of the scratches had been healed up thanks to Fenrir’s cum, but the mark on my chest had happened in the scuffle of trying to free myself.

The water was beginning to cool, so it had to have been a while since he left. I eyed the bar the towel hung on. I could use it as a weapon . . . the doorknob clicked and twisted. I quickly shut the water off. My fingertips had become prunes. Grabbing the towel, I swiped it across my hair quickly and wrapped it around myself. I carefully stepped on the towel laying on the floor.

He approached with a slip hanging over his arm.

“Put this on.” He grunted. “I like how it hugs your curves.”

I wore this dress often during the summer, from the day that I turned fourteen when he’d gotten it for me during a run to trade for materials. I’d been so happy about wearing it, especially when he complimented me, but I’d thought it had been innocent. A father to a daughter type of compliment. I dropped the towel and it pooled around my feet. I’d struggled to escape the wrong monster.

My hands shook as I tugged on the dress he handed me. The thin buttery fabric fell against my skin. All I wanted to do was tear it off. It’d been irreversibly tainted.

To make matters worse, I was so cold my nipples poked through. I hugged myself to avoid his hungry gaze.

How had I been blind to his lust? Had he felt this way for me since they found me? Nausea churned in my stomach. His gaze dropped to my feet and he backed out of the bathroom.

Poor Pam. Had she known? I would ask her as soon as he brought me to her. His evasive comments about her didn’t settle well in my stomach. Jason re-entered and crouched to place my slippers on the ground.

His head hovered low, attention downcast. I could grab the soap container and bash it across the top off his head. My fingers curled, but before I could lunge, he straightened.

His eyes, hovering just a few inches above mine, settled on me with satisfaction.

“Perfect. Now come make me dinner.” His gentle prod against my shoulder went against everything that had been happening. I curbed my urge to flinch away from his touch.

“What about Pam,” I choked out. He paused and flicked his eyes to the side, his mustache wiggling.

His palm settled on my shoulder, squeezing once as he guided me down the steps. At the bottom of the banister, he urged me in the opposite direction of the kitchen. Down the thin hallway to their bedroom. The door was ajar and with every step closer, my stomach twisted until it couldn’t get any tighter.

Jason nudged the door open with the tip of his shoe, urging me forward. I stumbled, catching myself on the bed. The mattress dipped under my curled fingers. The bottom of Pam’s nightgown draped along her shins. I slowly followed the cloth up to her face. She lay with a serene expression and her hair a wildmess against her pillow. She looked asleep, but something was off . . . she wasn’t breathing.

“Pam,” I breathed.

Pam lay still. Frighteningly so. I pressed my hand into my stomach. Please, please, move . . . I had heard her call for me.

I slowly approached and nudged her shoulder. Her arm flopped off her stomach and onto the mattress with a heavy thud. Her chest wasn’t moving.

“There, my girl. Now we don’t have anyone between us.”

I remained frozen, unable to move. To breathe.

His hands wrapped around my biceps and he nudged me away from the bed. We had nothing between us . . . had he planned this all along?

Pam didn’t deserve that. He must have suffocated her while I showered. A broken sob ripped from my throat. Why was this happening? I didn’t understand any of this.

“Shut it,” he shouted. I clasped my palm over my mouth, muffling my cries. “Now make me some breakfast, my girl,” he said. He always called me that, but it had never sounded this disgusting.

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