Greymoor Academy: I Accidentally Bonded With Four Lycan Royals!

Chapter 249: 249. Dinner From Hell II

Maisie

Mercer glared at Soren. "Those creatures attack everywhere else but avoid Greymoor like the fucking plague. There have been no attacks on the Ridge, either. Those students are safer at the Academy, and you know it."

I paused, listening more closely now.

"The Council is considering marking the Ridge a second safe zone," Soren changed the topic, twirling his glass of wine. "But trying to figure out why it’s a safe zone to create more safe zones has been futile. History texts are being drawn from all over. The scholars can’t find a single thing. Or what ties the Ridge to the school."

I choked on the juice as it hit me. They were both sacred grounds!

Every head on the table snapped my way.

"Care to add to our speculations, Adams?" Mercer asked.

I opened my mouth. Thought about all the things I could say. How to say it right. Realized I couldn’t. I had a theory, but I couldn’t let them in on it, not without spilling why and how I knew.

I needed to help them figure it out... indirectly.

"No. Nothing," I said quickly.

"It is curious that on your first day back here, we get the first wave of attack so close to the Academy," Jericho murmured.

"What? You think I used some kind of voodoo to summon it there?" I asked with as much incredulity as I could, and Jericho contemplated it for a second before shaking his head and dismissing it, like the thought was too crazy to dwell on.

Soren straightened in his seat, setting down his wine glass. "On a much brighter note," his eyes found mine. "We made you something. A present befitting the occasion."

I paused. "What occasion?"

Quinlan’s chin rested on his fist, and something about his smile gave me the creeps. "It’s our wedding anniversary, cherie."

My stomach dropped. It was? How could I have forgotten about that? Shit. I felt like shit. Absolute, fucking shit.

Soren waved a man I hadn’t noticed before by the door over. "We had plans for something grander months ago, but we figured since you didn’t like being leashed to us, it would make you uncomfortable. So, we got you something we’re sure you’ll appreciate a lot more."

The man was a human, tall and wiry looking. In his hand was a red cushion and a small velvet box sat on it.

Soren nodded once at him, and the man lowered the cushion.

"This is Arthur," Soren said. "A permanent jewelry specialist."

My brows furrowed in confusion. What did that mean?

The specialist, Arthur, lifted the velvet box and opened it in front of me. And I gasped at the sight of it, tears brimming in my eyes.

One of the first things I’d looked for when I woke up at the hospital was the ring Soren had given me. When I found out I’d lost it too, another part of me broke.

But there it sat in the box. It looked a little different, with the engraved initials on it S. J. M. Q and the tiny space in the band, but I recognized it. I would with my eyes closed, the number of times I ran my thumb over it to calm myself in the days I was half-convinced I was losing my mind.

"This is..." My voice cracked.

"My mother’s ring," Soren said.

He was standing behind me now. I hadn’t noticed him getting up. His hands rested on my shoulder and his voice was dark and smooth as silk against my ear. "We had it refashioned, love, just for you."

Only then did I notice the small black case the specialist was setting up on the table. My mind began spinning, trying to make sense of what was happening.

"W-what are you..."

The specialist lifted a strange tool, the size of a thick pen connected by a thin cord to a compact black unit on the table.

At its tip was a fine metal point.

Jericho took my left wrist gently and my stomach flipped when Quinlan lifted the ring out of the box.

It still hadn’t connected.

Quinlan’s eyes were a startling, beautiful blue as he slipped the cold ring onto my finger.

I shivered when he lowered his mouth to my knuckle and kissed me so softly, I felt it like a feather traced along my clit.

Jericho’s thumb stroked my pulse. Soren’s hand tightened on my shoulder while his breath caressed the curve of my ear. Mercer watched with dark eyes.

It felt like something was happening, but I hadn’t yet connected the significance of it. I felt... flustered, and confused, and... my mouth had gone dry with a thirst for something I couldn’t name.

"Do it," Soren breathed against my ear, and I arched my neck, unable to help the urge to.

The specialist brought the tip of the metal point to the gap in the wedding band. A red spark flared from the contact.

And it dawned on me then.

They were welding it shut on my finger.

I jerked back hard, but Soren’s hold on me was hard as iron, Jericho’s grip unyielding.

"No–stop!" I shouted, my voice raw with sudden panic. My brain didn’t register that I wasn’t being hurt, nor was there an immediate danger on my life. All my brain knew was that there was something so damned insane about this.

The second spark came. The faint scent of hot metal rose between us.

"You were rather careless with my previous gift," Soren purred against my ear, completely unmoved by my struggling. "We thought we’d make it impossible for you to lose this one. Not without cutting off your finger, of course."

A sound of rage and genuine fear escaped me, and I didn’t understand why. I’d always known they were like this. Bat-shit crazy, fucking insane, unhinged when they wanted to be. And I was attracted to them all the more for it.

Even now, at the sound of my anger and fear, something dark and hungry flickered in Mercer’s eyes. Lust. Pure, undiluted want. He didn’t look away. He watched me like my struggling was the most arousing thing he’d ever seen.

Another spark came from the tool, and then a soft click followed. Then, it was done.

The gap was gone from the band and it sat on my finger, warmer now and very permanent.

Soren lifted my hand and examined the ring with a quiet exhale of satisfaction, as if he had simply corrected a minor inconvenience.

I snatched my hand out of his, shooting to my feet, and for the second time in one day, I raised my hand to hit him, punch him, I wasn’t even sure.

He caught my wrist and twisted it behind my back, and I gasped when my stomach hit the table, his other hand wrapping around my neck above the collar.

"Is that anyway to express your undying gratitude? Clearly, we need to work on your manners," he murmured against my ear.

He was hard. I felt him against my ass. He was so hard, it had to hurt.

My insides warmed, even as rage filled my chest. "Let me go. You’ve made your point."

"Two magic words, Adams," he said, his fingers choking me a little harder.

Quinlan leaned back in his seat, chuckling.

The sound of it made my nipples pebble.

Both Mercer and Quinlan noticed, their gazes lowering to the hard peaks peeking through the shirt.

I clamped my thighs together at the attention that felt like a brand. I was wet. Their collective effect on me hadn’t changed. It had only worsened.

Jericho inhaled sharply, and I knew he could smell my arousal.

My eyes watered with shame. "Thank you," I whispered, lips quivering.

Soren let me go and I fled the scene, Quinlan’s laughter following me up until I shut the door behind me. And screamed into the nearest pillow I could find.

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