Greymoor Academy: I Accidentally Bonded With Four Lycan Royals! novel Chapter 87

Chapter 87: 87. Transitioning IV

Maisie

I’d die for him.

No, wait a minute . . . that’s not where this was supposed to begin.

But left to my own devices, I’d have preferred to skim over the events of the next few weeks, and whisk you through those days with glossed-over details that casted me in a more flattering light.

Nobody looks good in their darkest hour. But it’s those hours that make us what we are. We stand strong, or we cower. We emerge victorious, tempered by our trials, or fractured by a permanent, damning fault line.

Or maybe I was just making up excuses to justify the shit my Lycan made me do.

Either way. Let’s get scarred for life together.

***

I charred, my skin blistered, bones fused from sexual heat no human, no wolf could’ve endured.

Lust consumed me. It was killing me slowly. Tearing apart my soul.

Helpmesomeonepleasehelpmemakeitstop.

Before, I thought I understood what the word ’mindless’ meant.

But I was wrong.

It started slowly. I began forgetting things. Important things. From the earliest things. Like Dad and Mom. The heat was in my mind, turning it all to mush, pushing it all so far out of reach that I could no longer tell why and what a Mom and Dad was.

All I knew was the word, BreedBreedBreed.

Sister? Not important. Memory gone.

School? Too much effort. Gone.

Friend. Friends. What were their names? Couldn’t remember.

Mate? I knew the word. It was interchangeable with breeding, wasn’t it? Or was it a person? Did he have blonde hair and green eyes? I suddenly felt anger.Why did he reject me?

No. Not mate. Douche. What did Douche mean? Unimportant. Gone.

Soon, all that was left of me, was that bedroom.

The black sheets teased my oversensitive skin. My wrists were raw from yanking at the cuffs, healing, then tearing open again. I didn’t care.

A babbling stream of incoherent noise poured from my mouth. Grunts, snarls, pleas in languages that didn’t exist as I kept rolling my hips in desperate, filthy circles, thrusting back and forth in a primal dance, clenching around nothing but air.

It felt right. It felt necessary. I could feel my own slickness begin to trace a hot path down my inner thighs. The whole room smelled like desperate, needy sex.

All my blood had pooled between my thighs, making my clit pound with a relentless, aching rhythm. A low, pathetic whine slipped out of me as another orgasm ripped through my body, sharp, painful and unsatisfying.

And still, it didn’t stop.

Skin was all I was. Skin that was alive that hungered, that ached, that needed to be touched to endure. I was hollow. I was barren. I was empty. So empty...

The lock clicked.

His scent crashed over me like a drug. Dark, electric, masculine. My body reacted instantly, back arching violently off the bed, thighs spreading wide, nipples tight and throbbing.

He loomed over me. He was beautiful, powerful. He was lust. He was mine. One of mine.

I jerked frantically at the chains.

Yes, yes, yes, you are what I need!

He leaned over me and brushed damp strands of hair from my forehead. The small touch sent electricity racing across my skin. I whimpered in relief, pressing into his hand like a desperate animal.

"More," I begged, voice wrecked as I arched my chest towards him. "Touch me. Please."

His violet-blue eyes darkened with heat and he inhaled sharply, but he shook his head. "You have to eat something, Adams."

Food? The word felt foreign. Disgusting. I spread my legs wider instead, rolling my hips in the air. "You. Want you. Inside. Now."

He sat on the edge of the bed, eyes scalding hot as they dragged over my dripping, flushed body. "And who am I, Adams?"

Adams? Something buzzed in the back of my mind. A name, but it was gone in that instant, along with everything else.

I licked my lips. "Mate?"

He laughed softly, eyes twinkling. "My name. If you get it right, I’ll give you something. But if you don’t, you will eat. And until you get it right, there will be no touching."

Thinking felt like trying to swim through molasses.

I didn’t want to think. I bumped up and down the mattress and sank my teeth—fangs—into my bottom lip. His eyes latched onto my bouncing breasts and I said again, "Mate?"

He lifted the tray. "Wrong answer."

At the word fuck, my core clenched violently and fresh wetness pooled between my thighs. I moaned loudly.

"Yes," I gasped, hips jerking. "Me and you? Fuck? Now? Please? I ache."

Lycan? The word floated through my mind and vanished.

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