Page 50 of Lycan King's Captives
“Sienna,” he says, his voice barely audible over the pounding music. “Are you okay?”
I shake my head, unable to find my voice. The pool cue still feels heavy in my grip, my fingers numb from the strain.
“You knew exactly who they are,” Xandros speaks menacingly.
“No, My King, we would never.”
A humorless smile spreads across Xandros’s face, a predatory gleam in his eyes. He saunters through the room, taking in the carnage with an air of detached calm.
“Grab my wife,” he instructs his guards, never breaking his stride. They rush to obey, pulling Carina off the pool table.
Turning to me, Xandros picks up a pool stick, twirling it effortlessly between his fingers. The question he poses is deceptively gentle. “Did they hurt you, Sienna?” I shake my head, my pulse still pounding in my ears. They hadn’t hurt me—not yet—it’s clear from their leering faces they had every intention to.
“We were just helping them get home, they freaked out,” one man splutters, desperation tinging his voice. Carina laughs at this, a maniacal sound that bounces off the walls. “Liar, liar, pants on fire,” she teases, her voice wavering as it slurs.
“No…she is drunk, my—” the man’s voice dies in his throat as Xandros sends the pool stick flying. It finds its mark, spearing through the man’s mouth and pinning him to the drywall. His eyes widen in shock as he convulses violently, choking on his own blood before going still.
The room erupts into chaos. Xandros moves with lethal precision, seizing two pool balls from the table. His eyes blaze with an intense fury as he launches himself at the remaining men. There’s no hesitation, no mercy, only the brutal efficiency of a seasoned fighter.
His movements are a blur, a deadly dance of violence. The crunch of bones, the wet sounds of impact, and the screams of the men fill the room. Every swing, every hit lands with deadly accuracy, reducing the once arrogant men into whimpering heaps on the floor.
When the dust settles, Xandros stands in the middle of the carnage, his chest heaving. Blood splatters his face, and his hands are stained with it. Around him, the men lay sprawled on the ground, gasping before becoming lifeless corpses. The men’s blood-soaked bodies crumpled against the floor and broken furniture, each face masks of pain and terror.
Blood is everywhere on the carpet, pooling, creating a lake of red. As Xandros moves, his boot splatters it, causing the crimson to spray and fleck.
The man’s grizzled face is a mask of insanity, his eyes bulging and red, his mouth gaping.
Their faces contort as they choke and sputter, as if they will never willingly give in. This is a fight they can’t possibly win.
I stand petrified. The guards clutching Carina and me are the only ones left standing. The sickening smell of blood fills the air.
“They touched what’s mine, Sienna. Don’t look so shocked. Dead men bleed red,” Xandros states and my eyes flick to him. I listen to their last raspy breaths, watching their chests rise and fall in a desperate attempt to survive.
His gaze is cold, and his hands flex around the now bloody pool balls. The tang of copper in the air, the odor of blood and bile. The king is back in control, and there’s nothing except death in his wake as he drops the bloody pool balls onto the table, one sinking into the pocket while the other leaves a bloody trail along the table as it rolls.
“You didn’t run?” he questions, tilting his head to the side.
“I couldn’t leave her with them.”
His brows crease in the middle. “You could have. Why didn’t you? You had a chance to escape,” he asks, walking slowly toward me. My eyes go to Carina, who is now slumped passed out in one guard’s arms. “They would have raped her,” I stammer.
“So?” he asks, his eyes watching me, scrutinizing my every move. I can’t tell if it is anger or admiration in his gaze as he steps closer to me and raises a hand to my chin. His fingers are cold against my skin, and I force myself not to flinch away.
“I couldn’t leave her with them,” I repeat steadily, forcing down the fear that is rising in me.
Xandros’s expression softens ever so slightly as his hand drops away from my face. “You risked your life for her,” he says quietly and nods toward Carina. “Why?”
I hesitate before answering, still unsure of why I had done it or of what this might mean for me. “Because no one should have to go through that,” I finally answer truthfully, meeting his gaze without flinching.
“You are an odd woman. Carina has done nothing but keep us apart, and you would remain to protect her, when she doesn’t deserve your protection?”
“I’m a woman,” I growl like that should be explanation enough, and he raises an eyebrow at me.
“You are,” he answers, stepping in front of me, his hands bloody when he cups my face in them.
“Something you’ll never understand, my reasoning doesn’t matter, not to a man,” I tell him.
“You speak in riddles.”
