Babysitting The Amnesiac Lycan King

Chapter 94

Chapter 94

I don't blink.

Can't.

His eyes are locked on me like I've crawled straight out of hell and dragged the devil's pitchfork with me.

And maybe I have.

Because standing here, in the Grand Dowager's room, her porcelain teacup halfway to her lips, while Enoch Blackwell- King of the fucking Lycans-glares at me like I just pissed in his holy water.

Yeah. This might actually be hell.

"Come in," she repeats, deceptively warm.

I step in. One foot, then the other. My heels click warning shots on the polished marble, all of last night still stitched into the seams of my blazer. The one I ironed this morning. As though I didn't sob for twenty straight minutes before pulling on my pantyhose:

But appearances, right?

I keep my chin up. It's not much, but it's all I've got.

"Grandmother," Enoch says, low and flat. That voice. It doesn't rumble anymore. It cuts. Cold and sharp, like winter air sliding down the back of your neck.

"Taryn," the Dowager croons, still smiling. "I'm so pleased you accepted my offer. The palace could use some fresh air, wouldn't you say?"

I don't miss the way her eyes flick toward Enoch. She's goading him. And I'm the bait she wrapped in satin and ribbon.

"Thrilled to be here," I say sweetly, glancing at the King as though he didn't throw me out just days ago. "Can't wait to get started."

Enoch's jaw ticks.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

His voice is pure gravel.

Okay, this is it.

I turn to him slowly, savoring the venom. "Aw. Miss me already?"

He takes one step forward. Big. Broad. Stupidly regal. Like the hallway bent itself to his will the moment he walked in.

"Did you break in again," he grits out, "or did someone finally lose their mind and let you through the front door?"

I raise my brows, smiling like a cat with a dead mouse in its mouth. "Neither. Turns out saving your grandmother's life buys you a seat at the palace table. Who knew?"

He opens his mouth, and the Dowager cuts him off with a clap of her hands.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic, Enoch. She's not here as a guest. I've decided she'll be my personal aide."

I blink.

Wait-what the fuck?

"I'm sorry-what?" Enoch and I say at the same time.

She just sips her tea like this is her goddamn telenovela and we're her favorite characters.

"She'll assist me with my correspondence, join me in meetings, and accompany me to my treatments. After what she did for me, I want her close."

Close.

Great.

I feel Enoch's stare boiling through my skin.

"She's a liar," he snaps, turning fully to face her. His voice is low but lethal. "She's

not here for you. She's here for information. For a story."

My throat burns, but I smile wider.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Do you own your grandmother now too? Or are you just mad I'm still breathing the same air as your royal ego?"

His nostrils flare.

"Taryn," the Dowager says, dabbing her lips with a napkin, "would you be a dear and take a short tour of the new wing? Your quarters have been prepared. Enoch will show you the way."

"What?" he growls.

My jaw drops. "Wait, hold up-what?"

She waves a dismissive hand. "You know it better than anyone, darling. And you could both use the time. I'm sure you've missed each other terribly."

I make a choking sound. Enoch just looks as though he's seconds from calling in a hit.

Still, when she stands and begins chatting with her head maid, I know better than to argue.

She's the Dowager. This is her game. And I just became her new pawn.

I follow, heels sharp, back straighter than ever, even

if I'm carrying

Maybe I am.

us says anything until we're a good fifty paces from the room. I count every step just to stop myself from

corner. I turn

"But I get it.

doesn't look at me. Doesn't even

is bigger than your ego, which is honestly impressive. I didn't think

Still nothing.

spy through your keyhole or anything. I'm more of a

stops so suddenly I almost slam into his

turns, his face

is funny?" he asks, voice low

waltz back in here like

him. At the man I've hated, loved,

"But I'm

And for a second, I thought he might

real. Something that burns.

opens the

it,"

I step inside.

second I do,

across

it fucking

Enoch's little

seated two seconds on the absurdly plush couch before Brooke decides

queen on her throne-of-a- chair, sipping tea while chatting up her

And in walks Brooke.

smirk and her sharp-ass heels clicking

marble.

she says, her voice like someone trying to sound sweet

the kind you give someone right before kicking

trying to make

just slightly. But she recovers fast-too fast-and strolls in as though she's got a permanent residency

I sure hope not.

straight for him.

He's mine, you bitch.

clench, nails biting into my

flinch. I just watch her like she's a roach

wineglass.

a wise appointment, Your Grace?" Brooke says, tilting her head toward the Dowager. Her hand stays on Enoch like

of wine halfway to her lips. "So is my grandson. Yet here we all

Mic. Fucking. Drop.

stiffens. I swear her eye twitches, but

composure.

word. He doesn't even react. His face is stone, but his jaw ticks once, and I

Good. Let him

Lingers as a fart in

excuse about

My ass.

one last

and is waiting

corridor, muttering under my

my wrist and yanks me into a side

The air's thick. My back hits the wall, and he's there.

Way too close.

into me like a drug I swore I'd quit. Fuck. I hate that I still react this way to

His eyes are black.

wolf is

want back in my palace," he

fingers twitch

touching me, but close enough that I can

warning. "But I see you near my secrets-and I

treat you like every other enemy

My chin lifts, my voice sharp. "You

I'm just too fucking stubborn to

Pain. Guilt. Rage.

backs up as if I just slapped

Good.

***

Dinner is war.

yelling and throwing

Worse.

cutlery's too loud

screams louder than bombs.

looks like

a rage

sitting beside him-of

the Dowager's having the

it romantic?" she says, motioning between me and Enoch like

and Ken. "Childhood sweethearts reunited