Lorcan & Evette

Chapter Thirty

The night was the worst torture Lorcan had ever faced. He'd been knifed and punched and starved and drowned various times throughout his life. But this night? It took the cake.

Through the walls, he could hear her crying and screaming as the night-time visions returned to torture her. He could hear her frantic mutterings and short breaths as she cried out for someone to help her. This time, there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it. She didn't want him in there. Just this once, he would listen.

Even as his hands twitched to grab her and brush those tears away, he kept his distance and stayed in his own room. He paced up and down doing everything in his power to distract himself from the sounds. His entire body recognised it as wrong.

She needed him. How was he supposed to stay away when everything about this was wrong?

Somehow, he'd have to get her to stay with him by choice. If he forced her, it would make for a miserable eternity. She was his mate. Her leaving him was not an option. But if Annaliese came for her, she'd leave at the first chance. And God help him, after what the witch had told him, he didn't think he'd be able to kill the Queen. Unfortunately, that hesitancy didn't go both ways. If she had the chance, Annaliese would skivvy him. His instinct told him to go check the communication book, so that was what he did.

He'd left it in his bag by the door. He paused outside his mate's room on the way, his fingers hovering over the wood. Whether it was to knock or to push it open, he wasn't sure.

He could hear her mumbling in her sleep. Names, places, events.

He took a deep breath and kept walking. When he had the book, he returned to his room and tried not to hear the things she was saying. She'd told him about them. He wondered if she now regretted it.

Gods. He'd mark the first werewolf to have ever made their mate hate them.

When he opened the book, he understood the need to open it. Annaliese had penned a new entry, addressed to him directly.

Werewolf,

It has come to my attention that you've recognised Evette as your mate. It's a shame you're about to get euthanized.

This war has gone on for long enough. In taking Evette, you've struck a punch and left your flank open. A grave mistake you can't defend. Trust that the witches will exploit that.

Release Evette before we make keyrings out of your wolfy bollocks.

Sincerest regards,

Annaliese, Queen of the witches.

He'd officially fucked it. Those vampires who escaped had known what she was to him. Evie was telling the truth when she said they were working with Annaliese. Word of this wasn't supposed to get back to Annaliese. He'd been so careful with the hunters- he hadn't seen the vampires coming. He doubted the word would get out. Annaliese would want to keep something like this private, lest people believe the dogs were encroaching.

He searched around for a pen to reply.

Lorcan could give back just as much as he received. And as he thought of the witch who tossed and turned in her sleep, he knew there was nothing Annaliese could throw his way to make him topple. He'd take everything she had to throw his way if it meant he got to keep his mate.

Annaliese,

How would his mate phrase it? Ah, yes.

Bring it.

Lorcan, King of the Lupine armies.

He'd done wrong and messed things up, but he'd be damned if he didn't make things right with her. He'd find his way back into her good graces, even if it killed him.