Lycan King’s Captives novel Chapter 3

Each breath I take makes my lungs wheeze. My skin burns with a heat I can’t explain, my muscles tense, and I can’t seem to relax. I feel as if I’m suffocating, and I can’t do anything to stop it. My heart is racing, and I’m struggling to keep calm as I urge my eyes to open.

The sound of running water reaches my ears. I blink, and my eyes flutter open to see the moldy roof of our bathroom.

My mind is too preoccupied with the thought of how much pain I’m in. The water is freezing cold, and I lurch upright, clutching the sides of the tub. The sound of chains clanking nearby makes me scan my surroundings; only then do I see my hands bound to large bolts my uncle has fixed to the bathroom wall. One bolt leads to the chains holding my hands together. I try to scream, but my voice is hoarse.

My uncle enters the room, and his face is stern and unreadable in the dim light. He takes a step toward me, and I flinch, my heart pounding loudly in my ears. He raises his hand and points a crooked finger at me. “Quiet, I have a headache!”

Time seems to meld into one long moment as I take in his expression, my heart racing. He crosses the room and stands above me. The tension between us is palpable, and I can feel it in the air, like a static charge, as I wait for him to make the next move. All my senses are heightened as I anticipate what is to happen next.

“What?” I ask, yanking on my hands, trying to free them.

“Fucking, finally!” My uncle sneers, dumping a bag of ice into the water. His voice seems so much louder and more nasal than I remember. Even my eyesight seems stronger as I take in the brush marks on the wall from painting the bathroom last year.

“What are you doing?” I whisper, my voice shaking with fear.

“Mal called. He said you ran from him. I found you outside, passed out. What Lycan scratched you, huh?”

“Mal?” I stammer.

“Don’t worry. I told him you weren’t here,” my uncle informs me, and I stare at him. I don’t answer, my gaze glued to his. He sighs and shakes his head, then turns around. When I try to break free, he turns back.

He grabs my arm, and I scream, trying to break free. He raises his hand, and I flinch, expecting a slap, then he digs his fingers into the flesh of my right arm, then feels my forehead, and curses, “You’re still burning up!”

“You didn’t tell him where I was?” I ask, thankful.

“Of course not. I’m not telling him his goods are ruined. Gotta fix you up before I hand you over,” he tells me, then turns around and retrieves a paper bag. He opens it, dumping the contents into the water. My brows furrow in confusion as I look at the wolfsbane floating around. He grabs a giant mixing spoon, the one that hangs above the stove usually, and starts stirring the water, creating a murky, purple-colored concoction. He takes a small bottle from the side of the tub, pours some of the liquid in, and continues stirring. “This will fix you up,” he says.

“Huh?” I whisper, trying to figure out what he’s doing.

“The wolfsbane will help neutralize the toxins in the water and your blood,” he tells me. I gape at him, wondering what the heck he is talking about.

“Why is it necessary? I am not a Lycan.”

“It’s for the infection, kid. I’ve seen grown men turn rabid with infection. Surprised you haven’t fazed. Most people turn rabid before it kills them. “However, this will quickly fix it,” my uncle calmly explains.

I try to remember what I know about Lycan infections; however, the buzzing from the light is extremely distracting. Lycan infections are caused by the toxin that attacks the body, causing severe pain and weakness, then usually kills the host. The virus is spread from the poison in the Lycan’s claws, making it extremely difficult to fight off without help, but this is the first I’ve heard of it causing people to go rabid. It is sometimes possible to cure an infection with wolfsbane. Though infrequent, accounts exist detailing its success. It makes me wonder if there is any chance for me since an ordinary Lycan didn’t scratch me; I was scratched by the prince.

“That’ll rid you of the poison long enough for him to collect you. I don’t give a fuck if you die or kill him once the trade papers are signed.” My uncle tells me.

No sooner than that, my skin burns as he tells me, “I can’t hand you over like this.” I try to jump out of the water, wondering what is happening, only to find chains strapped to my ankles which are attached to the wall, preventing me.

My scream is deafening as my skin begins to sizzle and burn. He has doused me in a wolfsbane concoction that is designed to temporarily block the effects of any poison from entering my system. The pain is intense, as if I’m ablaze.

All this will do is give him a window of opportunity to make the trade and for Mal to collect me, ensuring I am not dead by the time he returns me to the prince.

My uncle grabs a face washer, jamming it in my mouth. I try to spit it out when he punches me, my head whipping to the side and smacking the tiles. I see darkness for a moment only for him to duct-tape the face washer in my mouth. I try to reach for it with my chained hand when he yanks on the chains held with a bolt to the wall.

I am forced back under the water, my feet being dragged higher and forced on my back. I scream as the wolfsbane burns me, and I thrash when he yanks on the other chains, suspending my hands in the air.

“Quiet, you’ll ruin the game!” he spits at me while I try to breathe around the duct tape. He then walks out, leaving me in agony as I scream in pain. I’m not a Lycan. Why is this stuff burning me?

Time escapes me as minutes seem like hours as the poison in my system writhes through me. My skin is blistered and bleeding in places, and the wound on my arm seems to be slowly closing over. I don’t know what that means, nor do I care. I long for death. It would be better than this pain. I sense my life ebbing, my vision blurring, senses dulling, and I can barely move. Then darkness descends, and I am no more.

I have no idea how long I have been in here when the door opens and my uncle enters. He presses a clammy hand on my head and curses. “Fuck, I can’t hold him off any longer. He’s been calling for three days! He stopped by and checked your room to ensure you weren’t here,” my uncle Sven informs me.

Three days? I’ve been submerged in this tub for three days. My heart races as my uncle hurriedly pulls my limp body out of the tub. He wraps me in a towel and leads me out of the room. As I am led away, I can still feel the cold lingering on my skin.

He tosses me into my room, shutting the door, and I fall onto my mattress. I glance around the room, my eyes adjusting to the dim light.

Everything seems to have stayed the way I left it. The same posters are on the wall. My clothes are strewn everywhere. The furniture is upturned still. I shiver as I drag the blanket over the top of me. Some part of me is urging myself to remember something crucial. My memory fails me; I only recall the bitter cold sinking into my bones until it turns into blistering heat.

My breathing becomes harsher, my vision blurs, and I can hear my uncle on the phone downstairs. The more I focus on his voice, the clearer it gets. “I got her, Mal, I put her in her room,” I hear him tell him. His voice shouldn’t reach me; he is too distant. How is that possible? My senses are heightened, which is when I taste the coppery scent of blood on my tongue. My teeth, cutting into my tongue and cheeks, are sharper than usual.

I need to get out of here!

No sooner than I think it, I am standing upright. Confused, I blink around my room, trying to figure out how I moved so quickly when the door opens.

“Mal’s on his way. Get some dry clothes on,” my uncle tells me. His voice sounds different, and I stare at him. He even looks different. I can see every pore on his face; his skin appears yellower than normal, thanks to jaundice from his drinking.

“Did you not hear me?” he bellows at me before stalking over. He raises his hand to backhand me. I watch it move toward my face like it’s in slow motion when I grab it. I blink at his wrist clutched in my hand, seeing it shake as he tries to break out of my grasp.

His strength‌ is no match for me when a strange sound tears out of me. His eyes widen in horror when suddenly I hear a snap, and he screams a blood-curdling scream. I let him go, wondering why he made such a noise, and he staggers back, clutching his wrist. I stare at my hands in confusion when the scent of blood reaches my nose. When I look at my uncle, I sniff the air.

His wrist is bleeding, with the bone jutting out of his arm he attacks me. Only when he does, it’s like time slows. With every move he makes, I anticipate and see it coming. The next thing I see is his crumpled form on the ground, my hand inside his chest, my fingers wrapped around his heart when I jerk it, just as a loud bang follows. In shock, I blink at what I did and what I am holding.

I killed him.

I killed my uncle.

With his heart in my grasp, I release it, horrified and sickened. His heart hits the floorboard with a loud squelch sound. That’s when I hear a deep, husky voice behind me, making me spin to see the intruder.

“She’s magnificent,” comes a voice from the door. I take in the stranger, realizing he is in fact Prince Xandros. I stare at him, absorbing his features to memory, his dark features, his strong jawline, and plump lips when my gaze is drawn to his golden eyes. He puts his hands up, and I watch him, wondering where he came from and how he got in my house.

“I’m not here to hurt you; I’m here to help,” he tells me, and I get up, backing away from him, finally coming to my senses as I remember he is the reason I am sick, the reason I got infected. No, he wants to buy me. He’s here to take me. A rumbling noise fills the air, and I jump at the sound while the prince smiles wickedly. Then I realize the growling sound is coming from me.

So I run, grabbing the door handle, and bursting out into fresh air, the coldness of it blasting my face. I stagger forward, enjoying the cooling sensation, when I hear the king’s voice.

“Find out everything you can about her,” he tells the man. I peer over my shoulder, and he seems unfazed by me, trying to escape as he talks with ease. Something tells me that should worry me, but I have a one-track mind, and that is to get out of here.

Running down the steps, the fourth one is covered in snow, and by the time I reach the bottom, the snow is up to my knees. Ignoring the cold numbing feeling of it melting against my blistering hot skin, I make a run for the trees. I dive into the safety of the trees, my heart pounding, the snow crunching beneath my feet. I take a moment to catch my breath and glance back.

My footprints are the only thing that proves I was ever here. As I glance back toward my house, the king slowly creeps down the steps. He sniffs the air before turning in my direction, moseying along like he is merely enjoying a stroll through the park. Not waiting around, I disappear into the dense forest.

The farther I go, the weaker I become, the blistering heat of the fever returning with a vengeance. My vision blurs, and I clutch a nearby tree, trying to catch my breath. As I make my way through the forest, vertigo washes through me, the snow making my toes numb.

Nausea kicks in, and I retch; an empty stomach results in dry heaves. The urge is so much more excruciating than the action itself as my body heats up overwhelmingly. My eyes roll into the back of my head, and the next minute I am falling. I welcome the ice-cold snow as it seeps into my skin, cooling the raging inferno bubbling inside me and threatening to boil me from the inside out.

The crunch of shoes makes me twist and peer between the trees to see a dark figure. The figure steps closer. His face is shrouded in darkness when his aura rushes over me.

He pauses, smirking down at me.

“What’s happening to me,” I mumble.

“Well, if you hadn’t run, I would have explained. You are quite intent on escaping me.”

I peer up at him, waiting for the effects to wear off. “You poisoned me,” I mutter as I blink, trying to clear my vision. He nods and purses his lips.

“That wasn’t intentional; considering your condition, your time is limited,” he says.

“I’m dying?” I murmur.

Now completely immobile, my body paralyzed, he nods, confirming my suspicions. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, accepting my fate. As I come to terms with my impending death, I can feel my body slowly shutting down, unable to move or respond to my commands. I know this is it, and I can only accept the inevitable.

“Not that I will allow that to happen,” comes the king’s voice.

“You didn’t notice how the effects of my venom coursing through you eased in my presence? There is no doubt you will die if I leave you here. Your body is calling for me. Now, my venom is in your system; the only one who can save you is me. It is a safety mechanism to prevent our prey from escaping and to prevent our mates, who will eventually be forced back to us. It eases off in my presence because your DNA has changed. You can sense me,” he explains. I try to understand what he’s telling me, but my mind is drifting.

“My body senses you?” I mutter as his arms scoop me up, and he cradles me to his chest.

“Hmm,” he hums. “Yes, the farther you get away from me, the sicker you’ll get. The closer you are, the more you’ll crave me, and the more your discomfort will ease until I mark you.”

I try to ask what he means; my words make no sense to my own ears, and my tongue feels thick in my mouth. He laughs softly.

“Yes, I’ll mark you, make you mine. Then you’ll crave me; additionally, you’ll never want to leave me, and I can never let you go,” he chuckles darkly, and the next second I feel his teeth pierce my neck. Pain sears through my skin, his teeth tearing through and sinking in deeply. My scream is ear-piercing, and black dots steal my vision as I thrash in his arms. When he pulls his teeth from my skin, a hot trickle of blood runs down my collarbone and chest. His tongue runs over the mark, and I fight to remain conscious.

“Shh, the worst part is over until you shift. You’re mine now,” he whispers before the darkness that stole my vision steals my thoughts, too. His voice is somewhere far in the background, soothing, and I feel the hot waves that have been tormenting me abate, and I lose consciousness.