When Tables Turn

LUCY

My heart pounded so hard I was sure it was going to burst out of my chest.

A million thoughts whirled around in my head. What was he planning to do to me? What did he mean when he said my time in the kitchen was over? Was he planning to kill me?

I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t even notice we’d entered a large office. It was a stark contrast to the rest of the castle, modern and sleek.

Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with what must have been hundreds of books. A grand oak desk sat in the center of the room, accompanied by a gray leather chair fit for a king. Behind it, a large window revealed a breathtaking view of lush green valleys and a winding river.

“Sit,” a voice commanded from behind me, startling me. I turned to see a couch and a coffee table in the center of the room.

He moved to stand in front of me, his gaze heavy and intimidating. “What’s your name?” he asked.

A shiver ran down my spine.

His voice was deep, authoritative.

“I’m Lucy Jameson,” I blurted out.

“Lucy…Lucy…Lucy…” He repeated my name, pacing back and forth. “We seem to have a problem.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair—a sign of frustration, I noted.

“My wolf is restless when you’re around,” he explained, his voice eerily calm. “If I were a regular wolf, I could block him out. But I’m a lycan. My primal side can’t be tamed. To appease my wolf, I need to keep you safe…” His words trailed off, more to himself than to me.

A flood of questions filled my mind, but I remained silent.

“You’re my mate, Lucy,” he said, his voice strained. “I’m doing everything I can to control myself. It’s tearing me apart.”

I didn’t fully understand what being his mate meant, and I was too afraid to ask.

He terrified me.

I was still his captive, after all.

I watched him as he rubbed his jaw, deep in thought. Suddenly, his gaze snapped to mine. The moment our eyes met, a chill ran down my spine. I collapsed onto my side, as if a powerful gust of wind had knocked me over.

I felt weak, unable to move.

In an instant, he was beside me, propping me up.

His body supported mine.

The feel of his skin against mine sent a jolt of electricity through me.

I wondered if he felt it too.

He pulled me closer.

Our faces were just inches apart.

His grip on my waist tightened.

His eyes flickered gray, then darkened.

Suddenly, he pushed himself away from me, as if fighting an overwhelming urge.

He seemed lost in a trance, snapping out of it only when a guard entered the room.

“Take her to my room. Guard the door and don’t move until I arrive,” he ordered.

The king wanted me confined to his room. This was bad, really bad.

I was terrified of what might happen if we were alone again.

Could he control himself if he kept me close?