Greymoor Academy: I Accidentally Bonded With Four Lycan Royals! novel Chapter 137

Chapter 137: 137. Act Five

Maisie

Jericho grabbed the body and threw it over his shoulder, like he’d done this a thousand times. He was getting rid of the body.

My body seized.

"Y- you killed him," I stammered, feeling the blood slide all the way down my breasts, soaking my chest. "He was the Queen’s—"

"He was supposed to be," came Soren’s voice from over Quinlan’s shoulder as he sneered at the body. "They haven’t performed the mating ceremony yet. But there will be a price to pay for this."

His violet eyes met mine. "Do you never do as you’re told?"

It wasn’t a yell. But it sounded like one.

He was reprimanding me?

Anger flared hot in my chest, displacing the terror and fear that had paralyzed me for a second, and I rose to my feet. "You think this is my fault?! Ever since you came into my life, I have been hunted, kidnapped, beaten within an inch of my life, experience multiple concerning assaults, and am currently undergoing an identity crisis. So fucking excuse me for deciding to take a walk after you all decided to abandon me for one freaking hour!"

I started to stump out of the booth when Quinlan caught my wrist roughly. He hadn’t spoken a word since he casually tore out a man’s freaking heart for touching me—hell, I was still trying not to panic about that bit—but when he spoke, a chill ran down my spine.

"You wanted to watch?"

It was rough with his accent. It also sounded like the rumble before an earthquake.

"That’s not—" My face caught on fire. "I didn’t—I was just—"

"Snooping," he finished.

I didn’t like his tone. He was scaring me. He didn’t sound like Quinlan at all.

His grip on my wrist felt like a manacle. "There is an obvious lesson to be learned here in obedience, and learn, you will."

My stomach cramped with fear. And a sick anticipation. Which was an odd thing to feel right after getting pressed up on and having a man’s dead body on me. I knew it then that I didn’t need a therapist, but a psychiatrist.

"Quinlan, let me go," I demanded, but my voice cracked.

He tugged me forward and licked the blood off my neck with an animal rattle that made my bladder suddenly feel full. "Let’s sate that curiosity of yours, shall we?"

My mouth opened on a small, alarmed cry as he threw me over his shoulder and dragged me out of the booth.

I was seriously sick of being treated like this.

"Put me down!" I cried.

Heads turned our way as he made a beeline up the stairs, where the only black booth in the entire theater sat. He waved two guards over, muttering something about cleaning up seven, ignoring my assault on his back.

The familiar dark and electric scent of him was all over the place as he drew back the black drapes and dumped me on a plush, cushioned seat.

I vaguely noticed this booth was significantly larger than the others, with more comfortable furniture and an array of ’instruments’ laid out on the table that made fear cripple me.

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