Greymoor Academy: I Accidentally Bonded With Four Lycan Royals!

Chapter 223: 223. The Red Blur II

Maisie

The impact sent me crashing into the underbush and I cried out as claws ripped my side open. I barely got my arm up before jaws snapped shut inches from my face, a hot breath that smelled faintly of blood hit my face.

I jammed my forearm against the Lycan’s throat and rolled hard, using the slope of the ground to throw its weight off me for a second.

And in that second, I reached blindly for anything, anything I could use to shield myself, because shifting now hurt like a bitch and took too long. Time I didn’t have in a fight like this.

My hand closed over the discarded blade of a mercenary just as the Lycan lunged for me again, my fear overriding the nausea of holding a dagger, and I struck, stabbing him in the shoulder.

He roared at me, the sound vibrating through my bones, and he threw me smack down into the earth so hard, my vision went white. His claws pinned one of my shoulders but I twisted anyway, jamming a knee into his ribs, and ripped the blade free only to slash across his chest.

Like he knew what I was thinking, he recoiled at the last second, missing it by a hair’s breadth, and he rose a giant, clawed paw, to no doubt tear my throat to ribbons and I surged up, using every ounce of strength I had to ram my fist into his exposed throat.

The blow canted him slightly off balance and I took advantage of that, shifting so I had the better position on top of him. I brought the tip of the blade to the soft hollow of its throat so hard, I drew blood. ”Move,” I snarled, breathing hard. ”And I will tear you open.”

The Lycan’s black eyes stared back at me with fury, before fading away to green, and then the form underneath me began to change, melting away and becoming skin. Limbs became hands and legs. Red fur became red hair far longer than I had last seen it, and I was soon staring at a face that tugged at my soul.

For a moment, I did nothing but stare at him. His high cheekbones that I had traced with my thumb every time we kissed. Those long dark lashes and hooded green eyes that seemed just as momentarily stunned as I was. Those firm, sensual lips that had gone from ripping at me with cruelty to calling me his gently. The red silky hair I always held hard enough to rip whenever he had his face between my thighs.

For a moment, I wanted to breach the distance and taste his lips, his skin, just to know if he still tasted like mine.

But I knew what the answer would be. It was glaring at me in the face from his bare neck, my mark on his dissolved to dust, like whatever future we could’ve had together.

That snapped me out of my rather brief fantasy enough to realize Mercer Black was underneath me. Breathing hard. Naked. Every scar, every line of muscle, every inch of him was right here under me. Heat poured off his skin and brushed against mine.

My Lycan came awake instantly, even if she had been doing nothing but sleep for weeks, waking up only to bitch me about my decision to stay away from Ashbourne and not start the next great war.

It had been a relief to get her back sometime around the fifth and sixth month, and I had cried when I heard her voice for the first time in my head after all that ash poisoning that convinced me that I had lost her forever, but I was beginning to miss the peace and quiet and lack of... this.

By this, I meant, the awareness of my body to this man. The fact that there was no tether between us but it still felt like every cell in my body was created for him. And was aware that he was here.

Ours. He’s ours.

I fought the urge to tighten my thighs where they were braced against his. Hated the heat pooling between my legs. Hated how good he smelled. Hated the way my mouth had gone dry with thirst. Hated the tension tightening between us like a spring about to snap.

And I absolutely refused to take notice of anything below his neck as I tightened my grip on the knife, holding it to his pulse as blood gathered on the edge of the blade.

”You’re a long way from Ashbourne, princeling,” I said coldly.

Mercer’s eyes were like chips of ice so cold with hate, it felt like being kissed by frostbite. ”As are you, thief.”

He spat the word like venom and despite myself and the resolve I had built, I felt a little shake somewhere.

Nine months of silence. Nine months of searching, hunting, of believing every lie that had been fed to him about me, and here he was, looking at me like he wanted to kill me, his hands stained with my blood. I thought if I didn’t have a knife to his throat, he might have killed me.

I smiled cruelly, indenting the blade to his skin. ”If you came all this way for me, you must not hate me as much as you like to pretend, husband. Is that what enrages you?” I licked the blood off my lower lip and his eyes flared, tracking the movement. ”The fact that you can’t decide if you want to kill me or fuck me?”

Mercer’s jaw tightened and I stiffened when I felt his hand on the small of my back. Very slowly, he slid it up my back and my breath got stuck in my throat when he cradled the back of my head very gently, tugging me forward, uncaring of the blade sliding an inch deeper into his skin.

His pressed his mouth to my ear. ”You have no idea,” he said softly, ”how much I want to snuff the life out of you.”

Something sharp pricked the side of my neck.

My eyes flew wide and I knew if I touched my neck, I would find a needle sticking out of it.

The world tilted instantly. Hard.

Fuck. I had gotten distracted.

I gritted my teeth and snarled at him. ”You fucking bastard.”

”We’re going to work on this attitude of yours,” he said, hands coming up to catch me as my hands turned to lead and the knife fell out of my grip uselessly. ”Soon.”

What the hell had he injected me with? A tranquilizer? I collapsed forward into the warmth of his chest and the last thing I registered was his growl, ”Get her in the van.”

Then I remembered no more.