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.”

Title of the document

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.

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

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

chuckles darkly. “So much skin, so much beautiful, gorgeous skin for me to mutilate. Show me if you

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

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

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.

give me time to

black magic on this badge for you?” is it jealousy I’m hearing? I can’t really tell. All I

is quickly masked. He breathes in deeply and returns to having a guarded expression, and asks

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

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

me a chance to speak. Obviously wanting to verify the truth, he fiercely throws my

make the perfume for me, I still have ways of getting what I want.

my fears are only confirmed over the next couple of days. Not only am I locked up, but I’m barely

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

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.