Greymoor Academy: I Accidentally Bonded With Four Lycan Royals! novel Chapter 29

Chapter 29: 29. The Butterfly Effect I

Mercer

It was not often that I found myself in a state of utter befuddlement–my lips parting, breath stuttering, nostrils flaring and blood pressure spiking unreasonably high.

Usually, control was easier.

But my senses took leave of me the moment Maisie Adams stepped into the hall.

The crowd parted for her instantly, making way for her. Her chin was tilted high, her spine straight, and her steps sure. Confidential. Like she knew she was the moment.

She was a monument.

I refused to accept that what I was seeing was reality and not a figment of my imagination, until every head in the room turned to acknowledge her. And so the question tumbled out of every mouth.

Who is that?

But I recognized her, even through the laced mask. Those full lips that never quite knew when to stay shut, coated in such sinful, deep red, I felt all the blood rush to my groin at once. Those eyes that pierced yours and expressed everything she felt. That slender neck I’d imagined wrapping my fingers around too many times.

To snap it. Or to mark it. I could no longer tell.

That damning body, voluptuous, and yet petite in a way that made a man hunger for things he should not. Dressed in clothes that wrapped around her body like liquid red, I felt the thing in my chest rattle viciously. My pulse pounded harshly.

And I could tell I wasn’t the only one Ms. Adams’ entrance had that effect on. The waltz had stopped to acknowledge her. The engagement was suddenly forgotten. Nothing else mattered, but the seductive sway of those hips.

Or that face. Those eyes. That mouth.

My skin flushed.

The feelings of my brothers rushed in through the bond we all shared, and one word went through the collective.

Fuck .

***

Soren

Walk to her. Take her hand. Dance with her , my Lycan told me.

I stepped away from the raven haired woman I was dancing with, with an absentminded apology tumbling off my lips. My legs moved of their own volition, a sudden desperation swelling in my chest to close the distance.

I didn’t think I’d ever be sane again if I didn’t dance with this woman. She had stolen my breath and thoughts, moving like something out of a dream. And when she reached the bottom of the stairs, I was there.

She gripped her dress, and in the high fashion of a Waltz, curtsied perfectly. "Your Highness."

My lips parted. "Adams?" I whispered, unsure I wasn’t hallucinating.

"Yes?"

I jolted in place for the second time in five minutes. I frowned. Searched her face. There were no giveaways. No vulnerabilities. Even her voice had changed from what I had witnessed earlier in that receiving hall.

It lacked the usual hesitation. It sounded sultry. I felt my skin prickle. With need. With awe. With the need to possess.

I offered her my hand, with more flourish and reverence than I’d ever offered a woman a dance. "May I?"

Rejection.

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