A King's Weakness (Book 1)

Chapter 15

I ROLL OVER IN BED, BURYING MY FACE IN MY PILLOW to the point of near suffocation. My body feels like it's been hit by a fucking freight train, and my brain isn't fairing much better. My memories are muddled, brief flashes of trees and blood.

A pleasant scent tickles my nose, and I inhale deeply as I try to place it. I don't remember changing my shampoo or conditioner brand lately, especially to one that is inherently masculine. In fact, I don't remember going to bed last night.

Holy shit.

I bolt upright so fast that my head spins, nearly bringing me to my knees. Every muscle hurts, bunched so tightly that they might as well have been used to string a goddamn banjo or something.

This shirt isn't mine. This isn't my bed. This isn't my room.

Panic builds all at once, cresting over me in a tidal wave as I try to connect the dots in my head. The last thing I clearly remember is biting Kage's head off over the radio volume. Beyond that, it's bits and pieces of a strange nightmare.

Footsteps sound outside the room, and when the door glides open, my body moves instinctually. I crouch down, my thighs screaming in protest at the sudden strain, and my eyes scan the room for any sort of weapon.

It takes one second for me to rip a lamp out of its socket, nearly taking the outlet with it, and I raise it over my head, ready to bludgeon my captor to death. I need to make the first hit count, none of that weak shit you see in the movies where the girl wastes her one shot at freedom.

"Whoa, easy!" Ryder exclaims, dancing just out of reach with his hands up in surrender.

I hold the lamp between us, my every instinct screaming to smack him with it until he sees stars. I am a caged beast, and if I can chew his leg off instead of my own, you'd better believe I'll do it.

"Hey, it's okay. Calla, everything's fine. You're at my house," he soothes, moving his hands so they are palm down in a placating gesture.

His house?

My eyes leave him for less than a second as I scan the room. Bed, nightstands, dresser. It certainly doesn't look like a cage.

Every molecule in my body is focused on the door, but there are too many unknowns out there. What if there are other people just beyond the threshold?

He notices my focus and moves slowly to open the door wider. "Look, it's okay. See?"

The space beyond the door is a hallway, the walls lined with photographs of a beautiful family. An older man that looks like Ryder, a woman with her arms wrapped around him. A small blonde boy that can only be the man before me now. And many, many others.

"Your house?" I whisper, my voice strained. My sleep-addled brain is frantically trying to move the pieces so that the puzzle makes sense. "Why?"

"You shifted last night. I wasn't sure how much your uncle knew, and sometimes pups can alternate between their forms in their sleep. I didn't think it would be a good idea for him to wake up to a wolf in his house, so I brought you here. You're safe; you've just been sleeping it off."

My grip on the lamp loosens slightly, my fear ebbing at his words. His explanation seems to unlock the memories from last night, and they flood back to me. Running through the woods with him, fighting with Lyra, the all consuming pain of the shift.

His icy blue eyes narrow in a wince as he looks at the now ruined light fixture. "That was my mom's favorite lamp."

I set it back down on the nightstand, careful to return it to its rightful position. "Sorry," I croak, practically falling back into bed. I run my hands through my hair, trying to make sense of everything. "I'll buy her another."