Greymoor Academy: I Accidentally Bonded With Four Lycan Royals!

Chapter 247: 247. Examination

Maisie

If they ran my bloodwork they would find everything. And everything else I hadn’t told anyone, or let myself think about just yet.

I had already been cut open, hurt, paralyzed, stripped bare for the world to see. I couldn’t do it all over again. Couldn’t have them know all the ways I had been... ruined.

And maybe that made me a coward, maybe I should be thinking more about their lives being in danger by finding out even a single grain of truth, but the panic came first and I couldn’t quell it.

Words tumbled out of my mouth frantically as I tried to get him to see reason. Curses. Pleas. More curses. Apologies for the curses. More hateful curses.

Soren hardly responded, kicking open the door to his bedroom and walked straight through into the bathroom.

The massive shower was already running. Steam billowed around us as he set me down inside. Soren shut the glass door behind him.

I scrambled back until my shoulders hit the wall. Warm water ran down my head, making me hiss a breath. "Don’t–"

He reached down, hooked his finger in the waistband of my shorts, and ripped it off me like it was paper. It hit the ground on a wet thud, and the shock of it, of standing half naked in front of him while his eyes ran down my body carnally, hit me so hard, I reacted without thinking.

I slapped him across the face.

His head snapped left with the force of it. For a second, he stayed like that, jaw clenched so tight a muscle jumped in his cheek. Water ran down the print my hand had left. Then he looked back at me, the violet-blue of his eyes so dark, it almost looked black.

"You finished?"

I bared my teeth at him. "Fuck you."

He yanked me down and my ass hit the marble bench. Then he dropped to one knee in front of me.

He kept my thigh pinned against the bench with his knee and gripped my calf to keep my injured leg still as he unwrapped the tourniquet.

There was a mix of disgusting black blood and dirt and red blood on the skin. It looked puffy and swollen.

Soren turned his face into the spray, filled his mouth with clean water and spat it over the bullet wound.

The sting made me hiss, and I really should’ve expected it, since Soren had a weird habit of tasting me, but I still jerked when he dragged his tongue over the wound.

Lycan and wolf saliva had healing properties. Accelerated clotting. Reduced infection. I knew that. Everyone knew that. But knowing it didn’t stop the raw, electric intimacy of feeling his tongue inside my skin, tasting my blood, my skin, me, his eyes never leaving mine.

A hot exhale escaped me.

The act was so wrong, so right, so intimate yet invasive, filthy and possessive, that a whimper escaped me before I could swallow it.

My thighs tried to close on instinct, but his shoulders kept them open. For every flick of his tongue, sharp pain trembled my thigh, and my heart traveled to my clit, pulsing, beating hard, clenching.

I had no idea what he did next because my eyes never left his, but I jumped at the sound of the bullet hitting the ground.

I realized then how hard I was breathing. How beautiful he was, hair matted to his skin, water gathering on lashes long enough to make a woman jealous. Lips slightly red with my blood. Eyes were as they tracked mine.

He remained there, crouched before me, his hands holding my thighs apart. Water poured over us. I felt the tingle of the wound closing. We didn’t move.

Tension rolled in his shoulders.

Then his hand slid up, hooking in the collar on my neck, and dragged my mouth down to his.

He hesitated one inch away, our lips brushing. "That is not what repulsion looks like, Adams. Keep looking at me like you want me to fuck you and I will."

I flinched back from him, hiding my shaking hands from him. "Get out."

I didn’t expect him to, but he pulled away and rose to his feet. "Fresh clothes will be waiting for you after your bath, after which you will be examined by each physician. I have it on their word that they will make it easy, with your comfort in mind. But in the event that you do not cooperate, they have my orders to sedate you."

"Bastard," I spat at him.

His eyes crinkled with mirth. "And don’t even think about running. There are guards stationed around every window, every entrance and exit. They have been briefed on what you’re capable of and are armed with tranquilizers. You will be shot down the second you are spotted."

I took the first thing I could find–a shampoo–and chucked it at his head with maddening speed.

He plucked it out of thin air before it could smack into his stupid face. Then he had a contemplative look as he looked from the shampoo to the collar around my neck.

"Interesting," he said, and left.

***

It took hours.

Blood was drawn from different parts of me. Scar tissue was collected from my skin. A woman in a white coat who I was pretty sure was a psychiatrist asked me three dozens of questions that I didn’t respond to.

I was plugged up to a machine. And the second I realized that he’d had them transport an ultrasound machine to the mansion for this, I began fighting again. Didn’t matter. I was tied down and examined.

They checked my reflexes, my weight, my heart, the other scars that weren’t lined with ash. They even collected my fucking pee and swabbed me.

By the time they were done, the sun was low in the sky and I was a wreck.

I lay back in the bed, too tired and drain to move or even cry, and I watched the sun get taken by the clouds.

I hated the lovely scent on his sheets. Hated that it comforted me enough to lull me to sleep.

A soft knock on the door woke me, and I blinked tiredly as Corazon walked in. "It is time for dinner."

I brought the pillow over my head. "I’m not hungry."

"’Tis not a request," she said. "He said to tell you if he had to come get you himself, he wouldn’t be gentle about it."

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