Pregnant After One Night With The Lycan

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.

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

at the end, if you still refuse to make me the perfume, I will carve my claws down your

chuckles darkly. “So much skin, so much beautiful, gorgeous skin for

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.

still remain tightly sealed. And I can’t help but sense some form

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

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

for you?” is it jealousy I’m hearing? I can’t really tell. All I know

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

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

as if Barlow’s passing is news to him. He mutters coldly beneath his breath. “That old guy is so

Yes! You must be lying!” I’m completely stunned, but Dorian doesn’t give me a chance to speak. Obviously wanting to verify the

me, I still have ways of getting what I want. I always get what I want in the end,” the

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

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

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