Greymoor Academy: I Accidentally Bonded With Four Lycan Royals! novel Chapter 54

Chapter 54: 54. The Spiral

Maisie

I woke up sobbing, drenched in sweat, raw pain and grief twisting in my stomach, with one word reverberating in my skull.

Malyshka.

And I had to know. Had to know if it was real. If I had simply conjured a terrifying nightmare, so vivid, it contested solidly against reality.

I had never seen Dad’s body. Mom didn’t let us. He died peacefully in his sleep. Heart failure, she said. The doctor said. Every one said.

And yet, it felt so real, I could still smell the blood, could still hear the sound of choking and gurgling. And there was also the little coincedence of having four of them inserted yet into another memory in my life.

Jericho’s bedroom was on the south wing of the second floor, and by the time I reached the huge oak door, I had begun to convince myself that the dream was absurd.

What would they have been doing within the borders of the Night Shade Pack six years ago? And how old were they at the time? Fifteen? Sixteen?

It was completely bonkers.

I started to turn away when I heard the sound of glass shattering inside. And a grunt. Then, a man’s pained gasp.

I should’ve hesitated. Should have remembered what he—they—did to me yesterday. But I was already grabbing the doorknob when I heard another soft noise that sounded like Jericho pleading.

I’d never been into Jericho’s room before and I was struck by how much different it was from mine and Quinlan’s. It resembled a cavern, but with modernities attached to it. Roughly strewn like Jericho was.

At the centre of the bedroom was a circular large bed, and Jericho was writhing atop of it, sweat wetting his body, his face stuck in pain.

I shuffled over as he twisted on his side. The rise and fall of his chest was too fast, and I saw that the sheets were ripped, his fingers lengthened into claws.

"Jericho?" I whispered.

He didn’t hear me. He arched off the bed, releasing a pain exhale. His eyelashes fluttered, but his eyes were glazed over, like he wasn’t really here, but stuck in some horror that would make a man like Jericho terrified.

"Jericho!"

No answer.

I clutched his shoulder to snap him out of it.

And yelped when I found myself trapped beneath Jericho. My heart leaped rapidly as my trapped hands pressed against the pillows above my head painfully, a knee digging into my stomach.

I stared into black emptiness as Jericho peered down at me. "Jer?"

There was no recognition, just his harsh breaths and a killing calm as his nails dug into my pulse, his eyes dark and unblinking. I yanked against his hold but his grip was made of steel, impossible to break free of.

He leaned over until his chest pressed against mine and his knee left my stomach, straddling me instead. I was suddenly aware of the fact that he was naked and I gasped when he ran his nose along my neck. "Stop wiggling so much. It excites him."

His voice was harsh and raspy against my neck. Almost unrecognizable, and I tried to relax, but I found I couldn’t.

My body hums with tension and fear, and I began trying to throw him off. It brought our groins flushed together and Jericho hissed.

Something hard poked against my thigh and I felt his teeth dig into my neck, just shy of my frantic pulse, and it wasn’t only fear that pooled in my stomach.

"Why are you in my bedroom, Adams?" he rasped. "Do you always take selfish pride in breaking all the rules and torturing us?"

My heartbeat echoed off his chest. "I—I heard you—you sounded like you were in pain—"

"And you thought yourself insolent enough to relieve me of it?" I felt his grip tighten on my wrists. "Did you think you would come in here, dressed in close to nothing, touch me like that and get out without consequences?"

My nostrils flared and my eyes stung again. "I was only trying to help." The coldness in his eyes didn’t change and I blurted, "What changed, Jericho? Why do you suddenly loathe me? I thought..." I swallowed. "I thought you cared about me. As a person, at least."

He laughed hoarsely. His fingers left my wrist and caught my hair, lifting me by the strands so that our chests were touching. My eye level came up to his sweaty torso and he had to yank my head all the way back to meet his gaze.

"Maisie Adams," Jericho said my full name in a sardonic, condescending voice, and his unwavering amber eyes were like ice shards cutting into me. "Whatever it is you think we hold in regards to you—whatever sentiment or weakness that you have so absurdly mistaken our pity for—it does not exist."

Pity.

"You matter," he said softly now. "Only if you get through the transition. Right now, you are neither here nor there. One foot in, one foot out. That makes you something. Or simply nothing at all. Our protection heavily depends on which point the scale tips, so do not reduce us to your fickle level of imaginations and useless emotions."

I gaped at him, stunned and wounded in an odd, surprising way. Something inside me cringed and curled up, feeling dumb for thinking I knew him.

But I said, "You claim not to care but shove your fingers up my vagina at the slightest inkling that I’ve had someone else between my legs."

I leaned up into him. I must have lost my sense of self preservation somewhere as I said hotly, anger overshadowing fear. "You want to know what it smells like in here? Bullshit."

His thick length twitched and bobbed to my insult. He played his fingers in my hair. "That smart, fucking mouth."

Jericho inched lower, his lips grazing mine slightly. I thought he might kiss me and my body tingled with anticipation, the traitor.

"Have you been reading the book I gave you, malyshka?"

I nodded, breathing labored.

"Then you know that we are deeply territorial of one another. That doesn’t make you different. Or special." He paused, kissing the spot under my ear. "Do you always cling to men who treat you like shit, or do you just lack self respect?"

I flinched away from him.

Pity.

Charity.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify