Page 49 of Lycan King's Claim
How could I leave while pregnant? How would I raise a child on my own? Where would I go, and how would I support myself and a baby? The very idea of motherhood seemed so foreign, so impossible for someone like me. And yet, the alternative—staying with Xandros and submitting to his control, his manipulation, and his mercurial temper—was unbearable.
Love or chaos. If I could go back in time, I would choose the chaos of uncle Sven and Mal, and now, I crave it because I know the truth that comes with it. Chaos doesn't lie. It's familiar and safe because it doesn't promise to save you, it promises pain, it promises to break you, still I always found a way out. At least with them, I knew what I was in for because nothing will hurt the way Love will. Chaos doesn't know any better. Love lets you believe you do.
Love? It's a dream that so many chase, but to me, it's just smoke and mirrors, a distorted illusion. And my knight in shining armor is just another ghost that will haunt me. An illusion of whom he could have been-- had his love been more than a myth.
I'm learning the truth now: love's game is cruel, like Russian roulette. Some find safety in an empty chamber, while others meet the bullet of heartbreak. You never know until you pull that trigger, if it will work out in your favor, or if you'll lose yourself to a game you never knew you were playing.
In the abyss of blame, shadows twist and lurk, each echoing the other's dark deeds. Yet in inaction, the most chilling void grows, nurtured by the misguided love I once knew.
How many times can I deceive myself, laying fault at another's feet, when the shackles that bind me are ones I've allowed? I've been a silent accomplice, witnessing the erosion of myself, but I can't allow it for this child.
I can no longer live with the menacing weight of anticipated reactions, judgments, and blame that smothers my every breath. His voice, whether near or distant, is relentless. Why do I endure it?
I should have kept running, I should have let the bond kill me. Had I known what I do now, back then, I would have surrendered to death. But how was I to know that living would be worse? Instead, I believed the illusion and gave up fighting it after one glimpse behind the name. Where I found a man and loved him, only to learn the name everyone feared was the man. And who I met was the ghost of who he could be. I'm done chasing ghosts.
So now, I must run again, if not for me but for whom I carry. The truth is clearer now: He wasn't just the looming threat of the gun aimed at my heart; he was the force that played the game and took aim. He was never the gun. He was the trigger — and the hand that mercilessly pulled it.
As if sensing the storm raging within me, Xandros stirred from his sleep. He props himself up on one elbow and gently brushes my hair behind my ear. “Something is wrong? I can feel it. Your bond woke mine,” he murmurs, his voice soft with concern.
I bit my lip, hesitating for a moment before replying. “I'm just thinking,” I admit, knowing that revealing the full extent of my thoughts would only lead to more pain and conflict.
“About what?” His dark eyes search mine, trying to pierce the veil of secrecy that I have closed around my heart. But I can't let him in, not when there was so much at stake. The warmth of his body envelops me like a comforting cocoon, the soft glow of moonlight casting shadows over his chiseled features.
“Everything and nothing,” I say cryptically, hoping it will be enough to satisfy his curiosity for now. The truth is far too dangerous, far too fragile to be spoken aloud. The thought of leaving Xandros to seek the witch who might hold the key to my freedom consumes me, even as the bond between us tugs relentlessly at my soul.
For now, though, I need to keep my thoughts hidden, buried deep within. The polarity of love and heartache that Xandros represents is too much to bear, and the only way to get through it is to keep him in the dark.
With a sigh, I turn away from him, hoping sleep will finally claim me and grant me some respite from the torment of my thoughts. Xandros doesn't let go, instead tugging me closer. I know I should push him away, should fight against the invisible chains that connect us, but the bond craves his touch, and I am too weary to argue with it. His erection presses into my lower back, and he groans lewdly, the sound making me clench my thighs together in anticipation.
“Don't worry, I won't do anything,” he whispers, his hand sweeping gently over my stomach. Panic flares within me at the thought that he might somehow sense the tiny life growing inside me, even though logic tells me it is impossible. My fingers close around his wrist, gripping it tightly, as if I can hold back the truth along with his hand.
“Are you sure you're okay?” Xandros' expression grows serious, concern etches into the lines of his face as he pushes me gently onto my back, his eyes searching mine for answers I can't give him. “Why do you think something is wrong?” I laugh nervously, trying to deflect his attention from the storm of emotions swirling within me.
“Ah, maybe because you haven't served me a tongue-lashing yet,” he teases, a grin lighting up his face. “I don't want to argue with you today, Xandros,” I whisper softly, my voice barely more than a sigh.
“Good because I don't feel like fighting you,” he chuckles, his breath warm against my cheek as he leans in to peck my lips. But then he hesitates, pulling back with a start, his eyes wide and apologetic. “Crap, Sienna, I didn't think,” he stammers, the words tumbling from him in a rush.
Surrendering and giving in to instinct, I lean up and capture his lips with mine, shocking him into silence. “There, we're even,” I whisper against his lips, feeling the flicker of a smile play across his lips.
His eyes sparkle with mischief as he murmurs, “Hmm, what about if I…” He leans down, his fingers gripping my chin gently but firmly, tilting my face up to meet his. His tongue brushes over my lips, teasing and testing, seeking entrance.
For a moment, I hesitate, my heart throbbing painfully in my chest as I struggle with the conflicting desires that war within me. But then the bond, that bizarre connection that defies logic and has bound my soul to Xandros', surges forward, drowning out all rational thought, and my lips part in surrender. I tug him closer, opening my legs so that he can move between them.
Xandros groans, as he presses his weight against me, his hand gripping my thigh as he draws my leg higher. I hook my leg around his waist, kissing him harder and earning a growl. The sound rumbles through his chest as he deepens the kiss, his tongue delving into my mouth with an intensity that leaves me breathless. The sensation of my bond reaching out for his, something it hasn't done in so long, sends shivers racing down my spine, leaving me desperate for his touch.
Even as my body responds to him, my mind recoils, weighed down by the guilt of wanting to be free of Xandros and the life he represents. The shattered fragments of my heart cut into me like shards of broken glass, whispering reminders of the pain that lurks beneath the surface of our fragile truce.
Feeling the heat of Xandros' body pressing against mine, I allow myself to surrender to the passion that burns between us. As his lips trail a path of fire down my neck and along my collarbone, my breath hitches in my throat, my heart pounding with a fierce desire that leaves me feeling weak and vulnerable.
“Let me show you how much I want you,” he whispers, his voice husky with need as his hands roam my body, igniting a storm of sensations within me that threaten to consume me whole. His touch is gentle, almost reverent, as if he can sense the fragility that lay hidden beneath my cold exterior.
I don’t move for a moment, my mind, and body in turmoil. I desperately want to ignore the warnings ringing in my head and succumb to his touch, but even so, there is still an immense weight of guilt that hangs over me. Sinking into the feeling of his body against mine, I close my eyes.
For the briefest of moments, I allow myself to imagine what it would have been like if we had met in some other time or place. If things could have been different between us. But then reality encroaches and Xandros' lips reclaim mine with an intensity that tells me that no matter how much I wish for something else, this is all there ever was—or ever will be—between us.
I kiss him back fiercely, hungrily, as if his touch can erase the parts of me that craves him, as if I can get him out of my system before I destroy what remains of our bond. Xandros, shocked by my sudden desire and wiliness, pulls back to stare down at me.
“What wrong?” he questions, but my hands move over his chest, tugging at the tank top he's wearing, my fingers dancing along the hard ridges of his abs. “Sienna?” he worries, capturing my hands and pinning them above my head.
