Lorcan & Evette

Chapter Six

His shoulders lifted and dropped with each intake of breath. His wolf was taking over. To say he wasn't happy... understatement of the century.

My mate has stabbed me. Deep breaths in, deep breaths out. Wrong.

"Now, maybe we can talk about this calmly like civilised adults..." He took a step nearer. "Or, y'know, maybe not."

He growled lowly. But what could she say? Yikes, your majesty. It appears my knife has impaled your stomach. Whoopsies. Bad knife. Friends?

She was in for it now.

Like those other wolves had said: she didn't need to be alive to deliver a message.

Oh Gods. He was going to kill her now, wasn't he? Of course he was. Killing her would make his life so much easier than keeping her alive. She'd pushed her luck. He'd be stupid to keep her living.

His eyes were no longer flashing. Now they were pure gold.

"You shouldn't have done that," the King seethed.

Ha! Did he think she didn't know?

Her body slammed into the wall like a ragdoll, his hand holding her there. And yet it didn't hurt.  That had to count for something, right? Like before, his nose came in for her neck, scenting her. She felt it trail down her skin and stifled a terrified shiver.

Maybe it was just a wolf thing she didn't know about.

"What are you going to do to me?"

He'd kill her brutally, no doubt. He'd slash her throat apart with those claws like he had done to that werewolf on her shop floor.

I'm going to die at the hands of a dog. Great.

"Nothing." He let her go. "You'll pay in time. Every slight brings another one of your friends closer to death. I'll enjoy choosing who to kill first. Maybe the boyfriend."

"You can't expect me not to put up a fight. You're here in my home trying to use me in your plots to hurt my friend."

"I've laid down the rules, witch. You'd do well to follow them."

"Or what?"

He stared at her darkly. "You know the consequences."

"Right. How could I forget? You'll kill me and then my friends."

He wasn't listening anymore. He paced back over to the bed and grabbed the book up from the floor. Then, as though this weren't the house and bedroom of a complete stranger, he made himself comfortable amidst the destruction.

"How old are you?" she asked, curiosity getting the better of her. For those kind of healing powers, Lorcan wasn't a young chap.

"Does it matter?"

"You healed instantaneously. You must be ancient."

He hummed. She sensed she wouldn't get an answer from him. Sore topic?

"Pen."

"Can you do nothing for yourself?"

"Why bother when I have a witch to do it for me? Be a good little hostess."

Gods almighty she hated this bastard.

She crossed to her bedside table and grabbed one, tempted to stab it into his jugular. She doubted it'd make a difference, immortal healing and all. It'd probably just piss him off more. She stood to attention as he wrote in it, a message Annaliese would soon be able to see.

As she stood to attention, fretting over what to do with herself, she realised she'd never felt so much like a stranger in her own room before.

"Get a bag," he instructed.