Chapter 10

Chapter

Ten

HARPER

I picked at my lunch and tried not to think about lycan princes who commissioned magical mazes for supernaturals in need of a safe place to live.

The chair next to my bed wasn't the most comfortable spot to eat. For one thing, I had to balance my plate on the upholstered arm and then hope I didn't spill food down my shirt. Also, I'd spent so much time in the chair I was beginning to worry I might become one with it.

Maybe for dinner, I'd try the sitting room sofa. Chewing, I eyed the low coffee table through the opening that connected the two rooms in my suite.

No, it wouldn't work. I'd have to hunch over too far. The chair was better.

I sighed and went back to pushing my food around my plate.

My eyes itched from the sleepless night I'd endured after Einar left. So what if he saved Goliath and the others from discrimination and death? Einar's good deeds didn't change the fact that he'd bullied my father. His generosity didn't erase the bad things he'd done to me. Leander, Keir, and Adina were lovely, but maybe they never saw the side of Einar that was perfectly okay uprooting a human from her life and locking her in a bedroom far from home.

Maybe that was it. Einar didn't consider me an equal. The lycan lifespan was five hundred years. He'd made sure to point out his superior sense of smell. He could transform into a powerful and dangerous animal. Undoubtedly, he had other magical gifts.

By contrast, I was a twenty-two-year-old undergrad. Everything I owned in the world fit into a few packing boxes. For someone like Einar, I was merely a commodity—something he could maneuver around like a chess piece until he got his way. And when he finally got what he wanted, he would discard me and move on with his very long life.

The food Arlo had delivered suddenly tasted like ash in my mouth. I put my fork down and placed my plate on the table next to the chair. In a half hour, Arlo would come fetch it. Probably, he would bring a new book or two. He'd ask if I needed anything else and if I had any special requests for dinner. Then he would leave, and I'd be alone again.

And tomorrow, the pattern would repeat. How long before my sanity started to unravel?

I stood, a strange energy thrumming through me. I'd felt it from the moment I opened my eyes after finally falling into a fitful doze in the early hours of the morning. I was jittery and restless, like I couldn't escape my own skin. Despite the chilly wind gusting down the chimney, I'd been warm since I woke. My face was flushed, and sweat gathered at my temples. The next time Arlo showed up, I had to ask if he could adjust the temperature in the room.

On impulse, I pulled my sweater over my head, leaving me in nothing but yoga pants and a thin camisole with spaghetti straps. Stuck in my bedroom, I'd forgone a bra. I finger combed my hair back from my face and lifted it off my neck. Cool air teased my nape.

Whatever was wrong with me, it didn't bode well for?—

A loud, sharp screech sounded from outside. Myrna? I rushed to the window and looked down. The sight in front of the maze was so outlandish, I almost rubbed my eyes like a cartoon character.

Two horses—one black and one Palomino gold— battled on the lawn. They grappled and pawed at each other, their hooves flying. The Palomino spun, its pale mane swinging, and kicked out with both back hooves. The black danced sideways to evade the blow. The Palomino kicked again, and this time it nailed the black horse in the ribs.

The black horse gave a high-pitched, angry-sounding neigh as it retreated. The Palomino pressed its advantage, galloping to the other horse and biting at its neck.

The black retaliated, head-butting the Palomino hard enough to send it crashing to the ground. It flailed on its side, tossing its head as it struggled. The black horse darted forward and ripped a chunk of flesh from the Palomino's flank. Blood spurted. The Palomino writhed in obvious agony, its eyes rolling. The black horse struck again, opening another nasty gash in the Palomino's side.

I moved without thinking, sprinting from the bedroom and hurrying downstairs. The foyer whipped past, and then I was through the kitchen and out the patio door.

The Palomino was on its feet. Blood streamed down its side, but it continued to fight, pawing and biting at the darker horse. They were massive animals, the muscles in their hindquarters bunching and flexing as they grappled. Foam flecked their mouths. Anger burned in their eyes.

Wait. That couldn't be right. They were horses. Animals lashed out when they were frightened or in pain. They didn't fight to vent human emotions.

I hovered on the edge of the lawn, an eerie awareness lifting the hair on my nape. Without warning, the horses stopped attacking each other. As one, they swung their heads toward me. Their nostrils flared. The look in their eyes shifted from fury to…interest.

My throat went dry. Some deep, primitive instinct screamed at me to run.

"You little fool," Einar growled behind me. Before I could spin, a powerful arm gripped me around the waist and jerked me off my feet. Einar sprinted toward the house with me dangling from his arm like a ragdoll.

The horses charged, galloping after us.

A strangled scream caught in my throat. A second later, the world went sideways as Einar flipped me around and slung me over his shoulder. Pain exploded in my ribs. Einar didn't slow, just clamped an arm over the backs of my thighs and kept running.

The thunder of hooves filled my ears. Hair hung in my face, obscuring my vision. Sputtering, I flung enough hair out of my eyes to see the grass turn into the patio's concrete.

"Open the door!" Einar shouted, his voice sending vibrations through my chest. Seconds later, a zipping sound reached me, and then my body went weightless as Einar launched himself over the kitchen's threshold. He landed hard, and more pain stabbed at my ribs.

"Put me down!" I gasped, rearing up just in time to see Arlo slam the slider into place. On the other side, the horses reared.

Einar stopped, his shoulders heaving. He placed me on my feet, but I barely registered my newfound freedom. Because the horses were no longer horses. Not completely. Their bodies were still equine, but their torsos were human.

So were their faces. Two brutish-looking men stared through the window, their gazes locked on me. Intense emotion burned in their narrowed eyes. It was almost like…possession. My instincts fired again, urging me to flee the males who stared me down like they meant to hunt and claim me.

A shiver trembled through me. "Can they get in?" I asked hoarsely.

"No," Einar said, his shoulders heaving as he caught his breath. "The house is warded."

Relief loosened my knees, and I dared to break the horse-men's stares so I could focus on Einar. "Why are they looking at me like that?"

"They're centaurs. It's their breeding season. You tried to get between them during a dominance contest, and you smell like—" He snapped his jaw shut. He stared at me, tension rolling off him. The tendons in his neck stood out like he was holding himself in check.

"What?" I asked, my heart pumping faster. "What do I smell like?"

Arousal slammed into me, the juncture of my thighs throbbing so fiercely I doubled over. My vision blurred as moisture flooded my panties.

"Oh my god," I gasped, going to my knees on the kitchen floor. Outside, one of the centaurs roared. The sound vibrated the glass.

"Sir," Arlo said sharply. "You have to get Miss Ward upstairs. If this glass breaks?—"

"I'm aware of the danger," Einar growled.

Another wave of arousal crashed through me. My nipples tightened, the tips throbbing in sync with the ache between my legs.

"I don't…" I croaked. "I don't understand." What the hell was happening to me?

Another roar rattled the glass.

Arlo's footsteps rushed across the kitchen. "Prince Einar, you have to get Miss Ward out of sight!"

With a savage curse, Einar scooped me from the floor and rushed me from the kitchen. Another wave of need struck, and I cried out as I clung to his chest. The waves of arousal kept coming, each one climbing higher and crashing harder. More hot moisture dampened my panties.

"Fuck," Einar said, moving faster. He ran through the house and up the stairs, not slowing until he barreled into my bedroom and kicked the door shut behind us.

My body was a live wire, every nerve ending buzzing with an intensity that stole my breath. In some dim, rational corner of my mind, I knew something was very, very wrong. This wasn't normal, and I should most definitely be mortified. But I couldn't summon the will to care. Not with lust searing me from the inside out. As Einar deposited me in the center of the bed, I couldn't stifle my whimper.

Einar's gaze met mine, concern and frustration in his silver eyes. But there was something else too—an emotion I couldn't decipher. He braced a hand on the bed, his shoulders rigid. A delicious scent teased my nose. Pine, leather, and something indelibly masculine.

Him.

The ache between my legs pulsed harder. My panties were soaked, the fabric clinging to my most private places. I squirmed on the bed, a flush spreading down my chest. My heartbeat pounded in my clit, every beat accompanied by more moisture trickling from my pussy.

Einar sucked in a breath. Gold flickered over his eyes. And it should have been terrifying. Instead, it was captivating .

"What's happening to me?" I choked out, clutching at the bedsheets as another wave of desire threatened to rip me apart. Sweat beaded my skin. My breasts throbbed, my nipples tingling. A glance down confirmed they thrust against my camisole like tiny arrow points.

For a moment, Einar just stared, a muscle in his jaw twitching as if he struggled to control himself. When he spoke at last, his voice was deeper than I'd ever heard it. "Centaurs are highly sexual creatures. Their lust must have affected you." He hesitated, the muscle twitching again. "Are you ovulating?"

"What?" I gasped.

"Something must have set them off. If you're fertile and…needy, they must have sensed it."

"I—" Another wave smacked into me, snatching my breath and tossing me into a turbulent sea of raw desire. My hips rolled of their own accord. The ache between my legs swelled to the point of pain. My vision blurred. I clung to the sheets, helpless to do anything but thrust my aching pussy into the air, desperate for friction. For anything. Fear rose along with my lust. The arousal was too much, the waves too high for me to endure.

"Help me," I gasped, tears burning my eyes. "Please, Einar, make it stop."

Einar's mouth tightened. He straightened, then stepped back.

"No! Please, don't go. Please. It hurts so bad." I was begging, but I didn't care. Nothing mattered but getting relief.

Einar rubbed a hand over his mouth. "Touch yourself," he muttered around his fingers.

I fumbled for my waistband, but my hands shook too badly. A cry of frustration broke from me as I failed to slide my yoga pants down my hips.

Cursing under his breath, Einar returned to the bed and brushed my hands away. He stripped the soft material down my legs and flung my yoga pants aside. After a moment's hesitation, he gave my panties the same treatment, leaving me nude except for the flimsy camisole.

Cool air hit my sodden pussy, the faint caress wrenching another cry from me as I spread my legs and reached for my clit.

"Fuck," Einar muttered, staggering back from the bed. The backs of his knees hit the edge of the chair, and he stumbled and caught himself. Gaze on me, he gripped the chair's arm and dragged the massive piece of furniture to the foot of the bed. He sat, his amber stare pinned between my thighs. Then he started giving orders.

"Use your juices," he rasped. "Slick yourself. Get your clit nice and wet."

I moaned as I complied, running my fingers down my folds and collecting the silky moisture before stroking back to my clit and rubbing in tight, fast circles. My thighs fell wide, and my hips rocked as my release hovered just out of reach.

"Harder," Einar said. "You're almost there."

Desire climbed, rushing me toward an apex. But just as I reached the summit, relief flitted away. "I can't come," I gasped, fear mounting.

"Yes, you can," Einar said, resting one hand on the top of his thigh. He curled his fingers into a fist, his knuckles instantly white. His eyes were a bright, eerie gold as he fixed his stare between my legs. I continued rubbing, my fingers almost too slick against my feverish flesh.

Einar growled long and low in his throat, the sound vibrating through me. "Use both hands. Open yourself."

My breathing grew ragged as I struggled to obey, my fingers slipping as I used my thumb and forefinger to part my labia. His stare was like a brand, his gaze burning from my clit to my opening, which gaped lewdly now that I held it open. The scent of my arousal teased my nostrils, mixing with Einar's addictive essence. I dug my teeth into my bottom lip to keep from begging for him to pull the chair closer so I could drown in the leather and forest that clung to him.

"There you go," he growled, his deep voice yanking me from my runaway thoughts. "Spread your legs more. Knees flat on the bed. That's it. Now slide two fingers into your pussy. Go as deep as you can."

The barked rush of orders was like a lit match dropped onto the dry kindling of my desire. My back bowed, and my lips parted on a breathy moan. I obeyed, thrusting two fingers deep into my core.

"That's it," he said, approval thick in his voice. "All the way inside. Now fuck yourself with your fingers, Harper. In and out. All the way to the third knuckle. Don't stop until I say."

My face heated, but I didn't hesitate. Legs splayed wide, I pumped my fingers into my pussy, fucking my own hand. Thick, wet smacks lifted around the bed, the scandalous sounds mingling with my low whimpers.

Einar leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his golden gaze locked on my sex. "Good girl. That is one soaking wet pussy, sweetheart. Your fingers are glistening. Keep fucking yourself."

My cries turned to moans. My hips bucked. But it wasn't enough. "Please," I rasped, finding Einar's gaze.

His eyes burned like twin suns as he held my stare. "Please, what?"

"Let me touch my clit. Please." Somehow, I knew I needed to ask. The game we played had unwritten rules, and that was one of them.

Einar stayed silent for a moment, his expression neutral as I continued plunging my fingers in and out of my opening. Then, in a voice like gravel, he asked, "Have you earned it?"

I moaned, my hips bucking harder. My orgasm was right there , my release within reach. It coiled inside me like a snake. "Yes," I said through clenched teeth, my whole body flushed and wanting. "Yes. I have to come. Please let me come."

Einar ran his eyes down my body, his otherworldly gaze taking in every trembling inch of skin between my neck and my toes. "Show me, then. Be a good girl and make yourself come."

With a wild cry, I moved my fingers to my clit. Two quick, furious circles and I was done, my orgasm breaking over me in a kaleidoscope of sensation and color. White-hot lust struck like a whip, lifting my hips from the mattress as I screamed my release. My vision dimmed, the world narrowing to the blurry pair of golden eyes observing me from the foot of the bed.

On and on my release went, delicious warmth sweeping me. One orgasm slid into the next. Through it all, the golden eyes never left me.

Eventually, the frenzy faded. Reality intruded, and I sprawled on my back, my body sheened with sweat and my heart thumping as I tried to catch my breath. Everything between my legs was swollen and hot. Little aftershocks rippled through me. The overwhelming lust was gone, my need satiated. Chilly air coasted over my body, raising goosebumps on my skin. My bare skin.

And Einar sat at the foot of the bed, observing everything like he'd bought a front-row ticket to a private show.

I scrambled upright, jerking the rumpled comforter over my lower half as I went. Embarrassment crashed through me like someone dumping a bucket of ice water over my head.

Einar stood, his eyebrows pulling together. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I said, my voice hoarse from screaming the ceiling down. Oh god, oh god, oh god. Blood rushed in my ears as I tightened my grip on the comforter and clambered from the bed. I wrapped the heavy fabric around me like a toga and stood on shaky legs. My hair fell over my shoulders in a tangled mess —because I'd just writhed half-naked on the bed while Einar talked me through an orgasm.

He gave me an inscrutable look, his eyes silver once more. An aura of impatience huddled around him, as if he'd been roped into an unpleasant task and couldn't wait to finish. "The desire went away?" he asked.

"Yes. It's gone." I waited for a hole to open in the floor and swallow me. When it didn't, I tightened my grip on the comforter. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. Whatever it was, I certainly didn't welcome it."

The temperature in the room plunged, filling the space between us with brittle currents. I glanced at the fireplace, but the dead leaves didn't stir. Weird. The draft must have come from the windows.

Einar's frown deepened. "The centaurs' magic is strong, especially when they're looking to mate. You shouldn't have been outside in the first place. I ordered you to stay in your room."

For a second, I was speechless. Then outrage rushed forth. "You're blaming me for what happened? Something I couldn't control?"

"You're responsible for your own actions. Unless you want me to believe someone forced you to open the door and run to the maze?"

My hand itched to slap the arrogant expression off his face. "I saw horses trying to kill each other."

"Centaurs, Miss Ward. How many times do I have to tell you that Draithmere isn't an ordinary house?"

"Are you serious? You don't tell me anything!" I bit back the urge to confess I knew all about the maze and the people within it. If Einar discovered I'd met Goliath and the others, he'd stop me from talking to them. And I'd lose my only opportunity to escape.

"I've told you what you need to know," Einar said. "I've kept it simple, Miss Ward. Until I'm satisfied your father has returned every shred of evidence he possesses about my true nature, you're my guest. And as long as you're here, you'll remain in your room. If you can't remember that single instruction, perhaps you should write it in your notebook."

Humiliation, hurt, and anger swirled in my chest, the noxious combination threatening to choke me. The notebook was more than paper and cardboard. More than a convenient place to write reminders. It was the only real connection I had to my mother.

"I want you to leave," I told Einar through clenched teeth. "And I hope I never see you again."

The chill in the air intensified. Einar's eyes seemed paler, the silver like chips of ice. "I'll have Arlo bring your dinner."

I didn't want it. But whatever. I forced myself to hold Einar's stare, my fingers aching as I gripped the comforter under my chin.

For a second, Einar seemed like he might say something else. But he just turned and walked out. Leaving me alone, my body as cold as the October air outside.