Pregnant After One Night With The Lycan

Chapter 89

Pregnant After One Night With The Lycan By Kellie Brown

Chapter 89 Marco Comes

Tanya’s POV:

Dorian’s sinister smile prickles my skin with a sense of unease and discomfort. To once again face the man who was first sent to k*il*l me unearths a primal fear within me. He’s like a predator, and I’m the prey, a wide-eyed doe, helpless and alone, away from my herd.

“Don’t be afraid darling. I’m not here to hurt you,” his remark is sly, and he knows that his statement barely lessens the panic he’s induced, but he continues speaking anyways. “I only asked Eric to invite you here.” I scoff breathlessly. “Invite isn’t the word I’d use.”

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His lips upturn into a smirk. “But I’ve been so desperate to meet you. I need a favour,” I remain silent as he explains his request. “I would like you to make a bottle of perfume for me. It’s all I ask for, nothing more and nothing less. And you won’t be harmed.”

It’s his final sentence that sticks out the most. Either way, something in my gut tells me that this simple perfume -knowing Dorian- must be something destructive. I can’t imagine him asking for anything else other than something that can inflict pain or harm another. And I will not be involved in that.

“And if I refuse?”

The hybrid quirks a brow, almost as if expecting my refusal to grant him his wishes. He slowly steps towards me with a patient smile. I flinch as his hand moves, but he only reaches up to stroke strands of my hair away from my face, before lightly caressing my chin. My skin shivers at his predatory touch, and he tilts my head back to look up at his towering figure as he changes the topic entirely.

“You are as beautiful as I remember. And I can imagine that gorgeous face of yours has charmed many onlookers. I’m sure even Marco is drawn to your grace and beauty,” my body stills into frigidness as he stares into my eyes. “What would happen if I took that away? Hmm? What if I carved a scar across this untouched beauty?” he places a finger at the right corner of my forehead and draws a single long line down to the bottom of my chin. “Would Marco still love you? Would he still want an ugly wife with a face covered in scars? Scars that would forever remind him that he failed to protect you?”

I stare up at him with frightened eyes, and I watch this arouse confidence and smugness in his expression. “I will count down from three to one. And at the end, if you still refuse to make me the perfume, I will carve my claws down your face,” but he doesn’t stop there. “And even after that, if you still don’t agree, I will continue to count, and after every three counts I will make another slash across your face.”

He chuckles darkly. “So much skin, so much beautiful, gorgeous skin for me to mutilate. Show me if you really cherish it.”

And just like that, Dorian starts counting down. His intentionally long pauses give me seconds to decide. But I knew already, from the moment he threatened me, I had already decided. Marco would love me no matter what, and I couldn’t aid evil. I would sacrifice everything if it meant I was stifling Dorian’s plans. Whatever they may be.

And so, when Dorian reaches one, his eyes unnaturally widen when only my body trembles in apprehension, while my lips still remain tightly sealed. And I can’t help but sense some form of anger and frustration as he laughs at me. “Fine. Then we will see how willing you’ll be once your face is littered in scars.”

I shrink back and close my eyes as Dorian raises his hand, I feel the slight draft as his arm swings forward. But instead of pain, all I hear is a loud ‘ding’. Instinctively I open my eyes to find something

glowing on my chest through the fabric of my jacket. Whatever it is has blocked Dorian’s magic and protected me from harm. That’s when I remember the badge Mr. Barlow gave to me before he died!

If the hybrid was angry before, his nostrils flare with rage now, glaring at the glowing object. “Take off the jacket!” he snaps but doesn’t give me time to react. Harshly he pulls off my jacket, before roughly snatching the badge, snapping it off my sweater. “Barlow gave this to you?!”

He looks at me with disbelief and snorts. “That old man even cast a protection against black magic on this badge for you?” is it jealousy I’m hearing? I can’t really tell. All I know is that Dorian isn’t happy that I have Barlow’s badge.

Of course, his displaced appearance is quickly masked. He breathes in deeply and returns to having a guarded expression, and asks me way too casually. “What sort of wretched corner of the world is the old guy hiding in anyway?”

I can’t help the incredulous look on my face as tears spring from my eyes. “You were responsible for poisoning the water, weren’t you? Shouldn’t you already know that Barlow died protecting us?” is he just trying to hurt me by bringing Barlow up?

But something shifts in his expression completely. No longer does he have on a relaxed fagade. Dorian appears shocked, as if Barlow’s passing is news to him. He mutters coldly beneath his breath. “That old guy is so powerful, how could he have died so easily?”

His gaze snaps to me. “You must be lying to me. Yes! You must be lying!” I’m completely stunned, but Dorian doesn’t give me a chance to speak. Obviously wanting to verify the truth, he fiercely throws my badge to the ground and storms towards the door.

But just before he leaves, he turns back towards me, saying coldly. “Even if you’re unwilling to make the perfume for me, I still have ways of getting what I want. I always get what I want in the end,” the hybrid then slams the door shut, leaving me locked up and alone once more.

I’m left feeling terrified, wondering what his last words mean. And my fears are only confirmed over the next couple of days. Not only am I locked up, but I’m barely given any food to eat or any water to drink. But that isn’t even the worst of it.

The day after my confrontation with Dorian, and every day after that, a person would come into my room, silent, ignoring my pleas, not conversing with me, barely baring me a glance. And I’m either ordered or f*orc*ed to provide them my arm, using a syringe, they extract a tube of blood from my veins.

Days past and I grow weaker and weaker. My throat dries, leaving my voice croaky and scratchy as I’m parched for water. My body gets to the point where it no longer growls for food as its cries have been continuously ignored, choosing instead to eat away at my muscle and fat as a last resort. And even Freya, who usually converses with me with her lively joyous att*itude, fails to surface. And it makes me wonder if I am close to dying.

As more blood is taken every day, I feel my will to live grow less and less. And now I barely even lift my head as the door to my room opens. Although my werewolf senses have been nearly erased, something awakens my sense of smell. Content provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

Something familiar.

I weakly lift my head, my eyes widening as Marco quietly enters the room, shutting the door before rushing to my side. His eyes look drained and tired, but nevertheless grateful to see me.

“Oh Tanya, my beloved Tanya…”

He cradles me in his arms, and like you would with a baby, he rocks me back and forth to soothe me. “What have they done to you?” he kisses my dry and cracked lips in desperate longing, whilst my glossy eyes peer up at him. I smile.

“You found me,” I whisper.

“I looked everywhere. I’m so sorry I didn’t find you sooner.”

I shake my head, patting his arm to comfort him. “You’ve found me now. And that’s all that matters.”

We sit huddled together for what feels like decades. Marco caresses me softly, whilst I hold his hand in mine, cherishing his touch. If only we were not in this retched place. If only we were far away, back home, with my sweet little Claire.

If only.

But reality eventually hits us like a ton of bricks. I can barely stand on my own two feet, and Marco is trying to pick me up so he can carry me and help me escape. But those few short minutes of joy are inevitably shattered as the door to the room opens once more. And Dorian, Eric and Lily stand on the other side.