A King's Weakness (Book 1)

Chapter 9

RYDER DODGES ME EFFORTLESSLY, grabbing my wrists and spinning so that my own momentum carries me into the wall behind him. My skull cracks sharply against the nauseating green tiles, temporarily stunning me. He has my hands pinned by my sides before I can react.

My skin burns where his fingers touch me, making me inhale sharply. His tantalizing scent runs freely across my tongue, tickling the back of my throat and making me want to bury my nose in his chest and breathe deeply. It's like smelling rain for the first time, or flowers, pumpkin, coffee. It's blinding.

I want more.

He at least has the decency to attempt to hide his amusement. "I knew you'd be happy to see me, but I definitely didn't expect this level of excitement," he teases, a smirk tugging at his lips.

His presence is going to send me into cardiac arrest if he stays this close to me. I struggle against his hold on my wrists, but he is too strong. I can tell he's being careful not to hurt me, though, and his grip is much gentler with me than it had been with Lyra.

"Calla," he murmurs, voice softening as he studies my face. His warm breath brushes against my skin, instantly stilling me. "You need to calm down. Breathe with me." He inhales deeply, nodding his head for me to do the same.

My mind battles to gain back control over my body, to quench the flames that lick at my belly. I stare straight ahead at his chest, forcing air into my lungs as I mirror his breaths. The pain in my jaw begins to subside slightly.

"I'm going to show you something; just keep breathing." His voice is tender—a tone I can't imagine he uses often—and it helps my coiled muscles relax.

When I don't resist, he takes my hand and tugs me forward to face the mirror. At first, I'm not sure what he expects me to see, but then I notice subtle changes in my face. My features have become sharper, more narrow—almost feral. Small dimples have formed on my lower lip—just like the ones Lyra had earlier. I reach up with my free hand and gingerly push my top lip away from my teeth. Sharp white canines gleam back at me, much longer than they should be.

I stumble backwards, my feet tripping over one another, and I would have fallen if Ryder's grip on my hand hadn't saved me.

"It's okay," he soothes, rubbing his thumb in small circles on the back of my hand. His own hands are rough, callused as though he has spent years doing hard work. For the briefest of moments, I am embarrassed at the softness of my skin—skin that has never known the difficulties of physical labor.

The stranger in the mirror stares back at me with a horrified expression.

"It is most definitely not fucking okay. Wh-what happened to my face?" I gasp, lisping on the "s" sounds.

Ryder frowns behind me, the expression creating fine lines on his face. "No one has ever said anything about this to you? You really don't know anything?" He sounds bewildered.

I can only shake my head, watching the girl with my face mirror my actions. The ache in my jaw has lessened to a dull throb, but my teeth are still tender, reminiscent of when I got braces in seventh grade. Each time I went to the orthodontist, they tightened the wires, resulting in me eating nothing but soft foods for two days afterward.

"You should have shifted by now, Calla. You're...what, sixteen?"

I snort indignantly. "Nearly eighteen," I huff, feeling a tiny bit offended.

He still hasn't released my hand from his gentle grasp, but I am by no means complaining. His touch feels like the only thing anchoring me, keeping me from going crazy and tearing my hair out in frustration.