Page 7 of Lycan King's Claim
"I'm her mate!" I growl, my voice dripping with anger and anguish.
"As you are hers!" My mother's words confuse me.
I am repulsed by the thought of another's touch. How could I seek solace or happiness in anyone else but Sienna? I shake my head, trying to clear the conflicting emotions raging within me.
Ignoring their protests, I shove past them, my eyes locked on the bathhouse. Javier follows closely behind, trying to reason. "Xandros, please listen to your father," he pleads, his voice filled with genuine concern.
Leaving them behind, I storm toward the bathhouse. "Where are you going?" I hear my mother call out. Javier continues to follow closely behind me, and I growl at his persistence.
"To get his scent off my fucking mate!" I snarl. When I reach the bathhouse, my aura rushes out with a force; it makes the footsteps behind me halt. Stepping inside the steamy room, I kick the door shut behind me, moving toward the water.
The steam-filled room engulfs me as I kick the door shut behind me. The heat and haze seem to mirror the turmoil within my heart.
I move toward the water, desperately needing to rid her of his scent. The anger, betrayal, and anguish bubble inside me, threatening to consume everything I am. With each step, I try to cling to who I am and who she is to me. I step into the water, hoping it will wash away the darkness that now clouds my soul.
As I wake up to the sound of water, my senses immediately go on high alert. The feeling of water pouring over my head sends me gasping for air, my hands flailing in the air in a desperate attempt to regain hold of something. The deep thrumming growl behind me freezes me in place. I know that growl; I know it with certainty. It's Xandros. Fear settles deep into my bones, paralyzing me.
"I am trying very hard not to hurt you. I suggest you don't try running from me right now," Xandros warns, his voice cold as ice.
I'm frozen with fear, knowing the consequences of any wrong move far too well. I quiver, my lip trembling, wanting to ask him what happened to Toby.
He must sense my unspoken question because he speaks again, his grip on my hair tightening. "Mention his name, and you'll never speak another again," he snarls, his black eyes piercing into mine. His features are dark, and the monstrous side of him lurks just beneath the surface as his scent envelops me.
Xandros smells like something wild and comforting. He smells like home and safety. However, I know his scent can be deceiving. And it is because of its underlying edge right now, his scent morphing into something else, just as the flame calls to a moth, enticing it closer only to burn it before it's aware of the danger it's in.
If there's one thing I've learned to recognize, it is his scent. This time, there's a sinister edge, a trace of death. Something primal and instinctive in me knows I am not dealing with the Xandros I've become accustomed to. What he has become, he is not someone who can be reasoned with, he's no longer the man I once knew, and my bond calls out to my mate.
He doesn't meet my gaze, as if he can't bear to look at me. I can feel his fury through our bond, and I remain silent, allowing him to scrub at my skin with hands that are too rough, erasing the last remnants of the only scent I find comforting now. Xandros scrubs at my skin, pumice stone tearing away bits of flesh, erasing his scent and punishing me.
Punishing me for loving another while he had an entire life outside of me. One I was forced to watch from the side. I try to tune out the pain, the stone scraping against my skin, and the ache tearing my heart apart. He can feel my pain, and the more he inflicts, the more he calms. When his hand moves between my legs, I grip his wrist, my voice trembling. "Xandros," I whimper.
He growls, tossing the stone aside and using his hands instead. The pain remains the same, his touch causing me agony.
5
He forces his fingers inside me, as if searching for Toby within the depths of my body. When he's done, my skin is scrubbed raw, even between my legs. The water burns my skin with ferocity, a reminder of the countless soaps he's drowned me in and the vicious scraping of my skin. My own scent is gone.
He doesn't speak, abruptly standing, and I plunge beneath the water, only to resurface, choking for air. He doesn't even look back to see if I'm all right. Instead, he moves toward the towels, grabbing one and wrapping it around his waist.
I hesitate, climbing out of the water and approaching him from behind. I pray he doesn't shame me like last time. The memory of that humiliation lingers, haunting me. Whenever I see a guard around the castle, I wonder if they watched me or averted their gazes. Have they seen me at my most vulnerable? Those thoughts consistently linger.
Xandros thrusts a towel at me without a word, I quickly snatch it before he can change his mind. He glares at me, and I wrap it around myself tightly, my fingers turning white from the strength of my grip. The burning sensation of the fabric against my skin and the icy fear remain under his deadly gaze until he turns away.
We stride through the castle's halls in silence. Xandros's anger radiates from him like heat, and I can feel it wrap around me like a storm-filled cloud. It's suffocating, making it hard to breathe, and all I want is to disappear into the shadows. The only sound in the hall is the soft slaps of his feet as he strides forward with purpose. His steps are decisive and determined, as if he were heading into battle. If only that battle wasn't against me.
My own steps are small and timid as I scramble to keep up with him, trying to stay out of his way yet still remain close enough not to anger him. The atmosphere is heavy and tense, with no indication of when his mood will shift or what could set him off next. With each step I take, my heart rate rises until I'm sure it will burst out of my chest.
I want nothing more than to be far away from here, away from this war that has broken us apart for so long now. As much as I hate feeling so scared of Xandros—hating what he has become—it is oddly familiar; it's a rarity. I never get anything except his anger; however, the absence of his yelling and screaming only makes his cold, hard anger more terrifying.
After what feels like the longest walk, we finally reach the room, and he stops just outside the door, turning back toward me without a word.
His cold glare pierces right through me, pinning me in place like a butterfly on a wall display, utterly helpless against his gaze. He stares at me for what feels like an eternity before finally opening the door and gesturing inside without a word; an invitation or threat? Either way, I have no other choice but to enter, only for him to follow closely behind, kicking the door shut as if it did something to him.
I rush to find clothes, slipping on pajamas, and I emerge to find Xandros standing in black pajama pants, his bare chest exposed.
My eyes linger over his body. I try to avoid staring, but I can't, the bond hazing my vision, refusing to detach from the man I am sure would one day be my end.
His body is all hard muscles, tanned skin, and smooth. It’s perfectly sculpted in all the best ways. He rummages around, searching for something. I want to ask him what he's looking for, instead, I hold myself back, his muttering to himself only deepening my unease. Hesitantly, I move toward the armchair when his growl stops me in my tracks. I glance at him, and his pointed finger directs my attention to the bed.
