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.

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

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.

much beautiful, gorgeous skin for me to mutilate. Show me if

to decide. But I knew already, from the moment he threatened me, I had already decided. Marco would love me

And I can’t help but sense some form of anger and frustration as he laughs at me.

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

glowing object. “Take off the jacket!” he snaps but doesn’t give me time to react.

you?”

course, his displaced appearance is quickly masked. He breathes in deeply and returns to having a guarded expression, and asks me way

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

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

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

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

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

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

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