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.

as a man headed to execution. I follow, heels sharp, back straighter than ever, even if my

as if I'm carrying a bomb

Maybe I am.

says anything until we're a good fifty paces from the room. I count every

corner.

"But I get it. You've missed my

at me. Doesn't even

"This place is bigger than your ego, which is honestly impressive. I

Still nothing.

anything. I'm more of

I almost slam into his

he turns, his face is inches

this is funny?" he asks, voice

waltz back in here like

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

I'm not walking

for a second,

real. Something that burns.

turns and opens the door

is it,"

I step inside.

second I do,

across from

course it fucking

back after Enoch's little tour back to the living

even seated two seconds on the absurdly plush couch before Brooke decides it's her fucking cue to ruin the air

tea while chatting up her maid about gods know what, when

And in walks Brooke.

knock. No hesitation. Just... a smirk and her sharp-ass

marble.

says, her voice like someone trying to sound sweet

but it's the kind you give someone right before kicking

trying to make fetch happen,

she recovers fast-too fast-and strolls in as though she's got a permanent

I sure hope not.

goes straight for him. Claiming him. Marking

He's mine, you bitch.

clench, nails biting into my

move. I don't flinch. I just watch her

wineglass.

Grace?" Brooke says, tilting her head toward the Dowager. Her hand stays on Enoch like it's glued. "She's...

one brow, a glass of wine halfway to her lips. "So is my

Mic. Fucking. Drop.

her eye twitches, but she's too polished

composure.

is stone, but his jaw ticks

pissed. Good.

long. Lingers as a fart in a

with some made-up excuse about wardrobe arrangements

My ass.

throws one last

a bomb and is waiting

down the corridor, muttering under

my wrist and yanks

are dim. The air's thick. My back hits

Way too close.

I'd quit. Fuck. I hate that I still react this way

His eyes are black.

His wolf is

he growls. Voice

swallow. My fingers twitch

leans closer, not touching me, but close enough that I can

a warning. "But I see you near my secrets-and I won't

my mate. I'll treat you like every other enemy I've

him dead in the eye. My chin lifts, my voice sharp. "You already

just too fucking stubborn to stay

Pain. Guilt. Rage.

up as if I just slapped

Good.

***

Dinner is war.

like yelling and throwing

Worse.

the cutlery's too loud and

screams louder than bombs.

across from Enoch, who looks like he's one snarky

into a rage

sitting beside him-of

the Dowager's having the time of her

it romantic?" she says, motioning between

and Ken. "Childhood sweethearts