The Lycan Kingpin's Captive: A Baby For The Beast novel Chapter 54

The sunlight seems harsher than before as my eyelids flutter open, and my head feels like I drank four bottles of dirt-cheap wine. What happened to me last night? Am I coming down with a cold or something?

Must be; I’m smelling sandalwood when I should be smelling mold.

Well, something is making this motel’s bed and sheets feel extra soft, and I groan while stretching. Only when I inhale deeply and open my eyes, do I realize that I am, in fact, not back at my shitty motel.

¿Qué m****a?

I’m in an expensive-looking bedroom; a four-poster bed including lush velvet draping, warm browns, soft reds, and decadent creams. This would be how I’d decorate my room if my Papa didn’t want everything in sterile black and white.

But that awe soon gets replaced with terror, because I don’t know where the hell I am.

I jump from the bed, throwing off something heavy and gasping when I look down at my ripped t-shirt. Damn it, I don’t remember what happened last night! Did someone…was I raped?

I lift up my shirt and when I catch a faint whiff of wolfsbane, my memories slowly return. Three guys surrounded me, ripping my clothes off, taking my money - but why would they bring me here afterward? ¡Dios mío! Are they keeping me as a sex slave?!

Panic rises in my throat and I pull the shirt from my body, including the damaged bra, before I start pacing the floor. But on my second walk in front of the bed, something black catches my eye. Frowning, I slowly bend over to pick it up, only for the sandalwood scent to hit me again.

It’s a thick leather jacket, the good kind too. But whose is it?

I throw the jacket down and sigh, marching over to the bathroom to do my business and splash my face while formulating a plan to escape. There has to be a way out of here, right? When I’m done in the bathroom, I walk over to the window only for my stomach to drop.

I’m on a massive estate; grass, a forest, houses, and buildings as far as I can see. My eyes fall on the guards patrolling two at a time at random intervals, but I’m sure I’ll be able to escape them. I’ve done it before.

With my mind made up, I’m about to sneak out of the room when I spot the clothes laid out on my bed. I frown, certain they weren’t there when I woke up and had my little meltdown. When I approach the t-shirt, undies, and jeans, I notice they’re all in my exact size.

Dread creeps into my heart when the thought comes to me that someone might have undressed me to see my size. I still don’t know where I am or how I got here, but when I went to the bathroom, I couldn’t see any blood on me, nor am I hurting down there.

Did this person maybe try to help me?

Swallowing deeply, I strip the ruined clothing off and begrudgingly get into a shower (which I secretly loved but will never admit) before putting the clean clothes on. Then I take a deep breath and tiptoe out of the bedroom.

The scent of sandalwood is even more potent here, and when I tiptoe downstairs, the smell of bacon wafts through the air and the sound of my stomach rumbling immediately gives me away. Damn it all to hell.

I follow the smell and when I walk into the kitchen area, my mouth falls open at the sight in front of me.

There’s a blonde man at the stove top; he’s wearing a pair of black cargo pants and a black t-shirt stretched tightly over his obviously muscular body. He’s tall, way taller than me and I’m 5 foot nine and it looks disgustingly sinful the way he’s standing there even as he’s just cooking.

Who is this man?

“Good morning, Xiomara,” he says my name in a purr and it causes goosebumps to form all over my skin. Then he turns his head and looks at me with vacant blue eyes and a knowing smirk that has my mouth going dry. “Did you sleep well?”

Did I sleep well? I slept without a worry for the first time in almost two weeks! But I am not about to tell this stranger that - but wait, he knows my name? I walk around to the other side of the kitchen island to face him directly, spying the knife block in the corner.