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.

a man headed to execution. I follow, heels

corridor stare as if I'm carrying a bomb strapped

Maybe I am.

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

a corner.

could've just sent a guard, Your Majesty," I say lightly. "But I get it. You've missed

at me. Doesn't even

is bigger than your ego, which is honestly impressive. I

Still nothing.

worry, I won't spy through your keyhole or anything. I'm more of a

suddenly I

face is inches from

funny?" he asks, voice low and dangerous. "You think you

waltz back in here

the man I've hated, loved, missed,

"But I'm not walking away

for a second, I thought he might say

real. Something that burns.

opens the door

is it," he

I step inside.

second I do, I realize something

across

course it fucking

to go back after Enoch's little

seconds on the absurdly plush couch before Brooke decides it's

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

And in walks Brooke.

No hesitation. Just... a smirk and her sharp-ass heels clicking

marble.

her voice like someone trying to sound sweet but choking on bile. "You're still here? How resilient

kind you give someone right before kicking their ass off

make

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

I sure hope not.

for him. Claiming him.

He's mine, you bitch.

clench, nails biting into my

I don't flinch. I just watch her like she's

wineglass.

really a wise appointment, Your Grace?" Brooke says, tilting her head toward the Dowager.

wine halfway

Mic. Fucking. Drop.

stiffens. I swear her eye twitches, but she's too polished to

composure.

stone, but his jaw ticks once, and I catch the subtle shift of

Good.

long. Lingers as a fart in

excuse about wardrobe arrangements and

My ass.

don't miss the way she throws one last glance at me before walking out-like

and is

corridor, muttering under

hand grabs my wrist and yanks me into a side

thick. My back hits

Way too close.

drug I swore I'd quit. Fuck. I hate that I still react this way to him. I hate it

His eyes are black.

wolf is

in my palace," he

fingers twitch at

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

warning. "But I see you near my

my mate. I'll treat you

him dead in the eye. My chin lifts, my voice

too fucking stubborn

his eyes. Pain.

up as if I just

Good.

***

Dinner is war.

yelling and throwing

Worse.

of war where the cutlery's too loud and the silence

screams louder than bombs.

who looks like he's one

into a

beside

having the time

she says, motioning between me

"Childhood sweethearts reunited by fate and