Babysitting The Amnesiac Lycan King

Don't fucking breathe.

Dust coats my throat, clogging my lungs as I press my lips together, trying not to cough. I'm crammed under the antique desk like a damn contortionist, my body wedged into a position that's making my muscles scream. But I don't move. Can't.

Footsteps. Slow. Calculated.

They know this room.

The door creaks as it swings open, a low groan slicing through the suffocating silence. My pulse pounds against my eardrums, each beat louder than the last. My eyes sting from holding back the tears that threaten to spill, and my chest heaves with the effort of staying fucking silent.

I peek through the tiny gap between the desk and the floor. Just enough to see.

Boots. Polished to a fucking shine. Black. Expensive.

Not a servant. Definitely not.

The figure moves deeper into the room, their presence dominating the space. Whoever the fuck this is, they're dangerous. I don't need to see their face to know

that.

Shit.

My body's frozen, but my mind's racing a mile a minute. Did I leave the damn drawer slightly open? I swear I shoved the file back in before hiding, but fuck... I was panicking. My hands were shaking.

What if they see it?

A bead of sweat rolls down the side of my temple, trailing along my cheek. I ignore the prickle of discomfort as the figure lingers by the desk-right fucking above me.

My eyes track every movement. A hand. Large. Calloused. Familiar. It brushes against the edge of the drawer I just pried open, and my stomach clenches so hard I might puke.

Fuck. Did I close it all the way?

Seconds drag into eternity.

One.

Two.

Three.

My body is on high alert, heart slamming against my ribcage. My knees ache from pressing into the marble, and my fingers dig into the cold floor to keep me grounded.

The hand pauses. Hovers. Then...

It retreats.

Oh, thank fuck.

I don't breathe. Not yet.

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Then, just when I think I'm about to be yanked out from under this goddamn desk and dragged into a nightmare I am not prepared for-

He moves away.

Not fast. Not urgent. Just a slow, almost calculated retreat toward the far side of the room.

The moment his back is turned, I act.

I inch forward, my body screaming at me to run, but I can't afford to be sloppy. One wrong move, one stupidly loud breath, and this all goes to shit.

My fingers brush against the smooth wood of the desk as I push myself out from under it, my movements painstakingly careful. My feet find the floor. I straighten, pivoting toward the door.

Almost there.

Three steps. Two. One-

The door slams shut,

I fucking jump.

The sound echoes like a gunshot, rattling the walls, reverberating through my goddamn soul. My breath catches, my body locking up as an icy wave of dread slams into me.

No. No, no, no, no-

A voice, low and dangerous, slithers through the silence.

"I was hoping I was wrong."

A chill spreads down my spine. I don't turn immediately. I can't. My fingers twitch

at my sides, nails biting into my palms, and I focus on the sting, on the way it grounds me.

Then, finally, I turn.

And there he is.

My blood runs cold.

No.

No.

No.

That voice.

Deep. Commanding. Dark and unforgiving.

Enoch.

I turn slowly, my body locking up as I meet his gaze.

He's standing by the shelves now, his broad frame cloaked in shadow, but there's

no mistaking that face. Those fucking eyes. I've seen them haunt my dreams and torment my waking hours.

The Lycan King.

Alive. Powerful. And pissed the fuck off.

His expression is unreadable. But his eyes... they flicker to the broken lock on the

drawer.

Shit.

"Enoch," I whisper, barely able to get the word out.

He doesn't move. Doesn't blink.

"Care to explain what the fuck you're doing in my archives, Sinclair?"

My throat is so dry I can barely swallow.

Think, Taryn. Think.

"1-"I start, but the words lodge in my throat when he steps closer.

"Don't." His voice drops lower. Dangerous. "Lie to me."

My brain's screaming at me to say something. Anything. But my mouth refuses to

cooperate.

His eyes narrow, flickering between my face and the drawer."

Fuck. He knows.

"Why do you care?" I bite out, trying

force some fucking defiance into my voice. But it's weak. Even I can hear it.

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His jaw clenches. "Because you're walking into shit that's going to get you killed."

His words hangs heavy in the air. His body is close now-too close-and the heat radiating off him is suffocating.

"And I can't let that happen."

My throat tightens.

"Why?" I whisper.

His eyes darken, his jaw ticking as he stares at me. His chest rises and falls, the tension between us so thick it's like a living, breathing thing.

"Because I fucking said so."

My heart lurches. His words slam into me, but not for the reasons they should.

It's the way he says it. It's not a command.

Like it's a plea.

But I can't let myself fall for that shit again. Not now. Not after everything.

He's looking for another girl, for fuck's sake.

I grit my teeth, shoving down the chaos swirling in my chest.

"That's not a fucking answer, Enoch."

Silence.

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But his eyes... they betray him.

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"You shouldn't be here, Taryn." His voice is softer now.

For a second-just one-l see the man I used to know. The one who looked at me

like I was his whole fucking world.

But that man's gone.

The dim light from the hallway casts sharp shadows across his face, carving his features into something almost inhuman. His jaw is clenched, the muscle there ticking, but his expression is blank.

I hate him for it.

force my chin up, fighting against the weight pressing down on my

His eyes flick to the broken lock, then back to me.

The sheer audacity of the question almost makes me laugh.

chest.

I cross my arms, mirroring his stance, even though my insides are tangled up in a

mess of nerves and resentment. "Didn't realize I needed permission to breathe in your kingdom."

A muscle in his jaw jumps. "That's not what I asked."

"And I don't owe you an answer."

His nostrils flare slightly, and it's in that moment I realize-he can hear my

heartbeat. The way it's thrumming, erratic and

uneven.

Goddamn him and his stupid fucking Lycan senses.

Enoch takes a step forward, slow and measured, and instinctively, I take one

back.

His lips curl, just slightly, but it's not a smile. It's something darker. Something that sends my pulse skyrocketing.

"Funny," he murmurs, voice deceptively smooth. "You weren't running the last

time we were this close."

My blood turns molten.

"Oh, fuck you."

He tilts his head. "You already did, sweetheart."

I swear to everything-I almost throw something at him. But there's literally nothing

within reach except a stack of books, and knowing my luck, I'd just embarrass

myself by missing.

So instead, I glare. Hard.

"You have, no right," I grit out, voice shaking despite my best efforts. "None. Not

after what you did."

His expression doesn't flicker. "What I did?"

Oh, he's serious.

Something inside me snaps.

"You left me, you arrogant son of a bitch," I spit. "You walked away as if I was

fucking nothing. I saved you-in that stupuid forest and you lied. You pretended!

And now you're standing here like you have any right to question me?"

He doesn't respond. Doesn't react.noveldrama

And that-that-makes me want to fucking break something.

I shake my head, forcing down the burn in my throat. "Why are you even back

here, Enoch?"

A beat of silence. Then-

"I could ask you the same thing."

God, I hate him. I hate how steady he sounds. How controlled. Like this is just a

conversation and not the wreckage of whatever we used to be.

But then his gaze drops-to my chest.

Not in a way that's lewd, but to the necklace hanging there.

The one he gave

1. me.

The one I never took off.

His expression darkens, his fingers twitching at his sides, but he doesn't say

anything.

I do.

"Yeah," I mutter. "Still wearing it."

His throat bobs. His shoulders go rigid.

And for the first time since walking into this room, he looks like the one who's

barely holding on.

Good.

Maybe now we're fucking even.

I look down at his hand and the glint of the bracelet I also bought him was still

there.

Goddamit, I'm leaving.

I try to push past him, but his hand slams against the wall beside my head, caging

me

in.

"You're not going anywhere." He orders. The heat of his body presses into mine,

and my traitorous skin tingles from the contact. Fucking traitor.

"Get out of my way." My voice is barely above a whisper, but he hears it. I know

he does.

His jaw clenches tighter, but he doesn't move.

"Not until, you tell me what you took."

My lips part, but I can't fucking think. Not when he's this close. Not when his scent

is making my head swim-like rain on Scorched earth, wild and untamed.

"You think I'm stupid?" His voice is low, dangerous, and way too fucking close. “I

know you didn't come here just to take a walk down memory lane."

I swallow hard, trying to keep my shit together, but he's making it impossible.

"Tell me."

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His breath brushes against my cheek, and I hate the way my body reacts. My

pulse jumps, my skin tingling where he's too

damn close.

"I didn't-"

"Lying to me again?" His tone drops lower. "Now?"

Shit.

I hate that I feel so goddamn small under his gaze.

"I should drag you out of here and throw your ass back to the city," he growls, his

body radiating heat that seeps into mine. "Maybe then you'd stop fucking poking

around."

"Do it." I lift my chin, forcing myself to meet his eyes. "Go ahead."

A muscle ticks in his jaw, his eyes flickering between anger and... something

else.

"You don't mean that."

"Try me."

The air thickens. His eyes drop to my lips, and my heart pounds harder.

"Fuck." His curse is barely a whisper, but I feel it like a punch to the gut.

No.

I shove against his chest, but he doesn't budge.

"Get. Off."

"You don't want that," he murmurs, his voice rough.

"The fuck I don't."

My fists press against his chest, but he's a goddamn wall.

His lips are so close I can feel his breath fan against mine.

"Then stop me."

I don't.

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