Greymoor Academy: I Accidentally Bonded With Four Lycan Royals! novel Chapter 36

Chapter 36: 36. Mon animol

By the time I made it out of the bath, my eye color had settled back to their usual blue, but the rest was still... alarmingly present.

I tugged on the baggy sweats and Oxford team shirt, jamming my foot into a pair of sneakers that were two sizes larger, and I ran downstairs.

The house was mostly silent, and Quinn wasn’t down, either. I couldn’t find anyone else at home and went straight to the kitchen, finding Corazon shoving a week’s supply of food into the fridge. "Where’s everyone?"

Without looking, she mumbled, "Masters Soren and Mercer have left for Court and won’t be back till tomorrow. Master Jericho never tells anyone where he goes. Master Quinn is in his bedroom, on the West wing, though, I’d highly suggest waiting a moment before barging—"

I was already running out of the kitchen and jogging up the stairs, up the glamorous West wing that I vaguely remember from the last time.

I couldn’t wait.

I had to know if this was normal. If I was changing so quickly, did it mean the transition was happening quicker than it should? And did that mean I had even less time before I possibly died?

Upon reaching Quinn’s bedroom, I didn’t find him in there. There was one other door on the West wing and I went straight for it.

I had barely pushed the door open when the muffled noises hit me.

"Are you mad at me?" a female voice asked.

I blinked. I hadn’t known Quinlan had a guest.

I should’ve turned away. I began to turn away. But Quinlan’s voice halted me. It was uncharacteristically cold as he responded, "No."

The woman didn’t seem to notice. "You haven’t returned a single one of my calls or texts. Is this about the suggestion I made, Q?"

Another "No" was growled into the space.

Something rustled. Like the sound of clothes against skin. "I thought so. Everyone talks about it, you know. They say it is common tradition between the Lycans to share the women they really care about. I know we’ve been seeing each other on and off for years, but it upsets me that you haven’t made the suggestion to them yet. On some days, I feel like you really don’t care about me."

"Manon, when a man tells you he no longer wants to fuck you, your instinctive reaction shouldn’t be to offer yourself up to his brothers for a fivesome. I do think you should consider therapy, which says a lot, coming from me."

I blinked rapidly, unsure of what the hell I was hearing.

My fingers tightened on the door knob. I told myself I had no business listening in on what was clearly a lovers spat.

But I couldn’t move. There was a sense of unease spreading through my chest and a foul taste in my mouth. And against my better judgement, I glanced through the crack in the door, obliterating any sense of privacy I should’ve given them.

I caught Quinlan’s side profile. He was leaning back against the edge of his desk and there was a woman pressed against him, her hand running down his crotch.

She was a ginger, beautiful in a way that was both unnerving and surreal. She smelled distinctively of a mix between Lycan and wolf, though, predominantly wolf. And I placed her as a hybrid.

There have been cases in past history where the Lycans, in a bid to try repopulating their race, crossbred with wolves and humans. For some reason that no one truly knows, it was deemed a failed experiment. Though there were infants born from said failure, they were never fully Lycans. Not even close. They were watered down versions that never came even halfway close to the original. The Lycan gene during crossbreeding was always recessive and in an elite community like the Lycans, they were outcasts, abominations, and mistakes. They were just as rare as the Lycans themselves and dwindled in number with every passing decade.

The woman chuckled, pressing her lips to Quinn’s neck. "You sound jealous, mon animol. Does the thought that I might become their favorite little plaything piss you off? Feeling a little territorial?"

Her hand teased his belt and slipped into it.

I knew what was coming next. I should’ve left, walked away and headed to my room. But my legs would not function. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t blink. Couldn’t shut my eyes. Couldn’t stop staring at Quinlan. Couldn’t stop the confusing feelings building up inside.

The ginger dropped to her knees in front of him, hazel eyes blown wide as she undid his belt buckle.

And for a moment, it wasn’t someone else kneeling between his legs. It was me, gripping his toned ass, jaw opened as wide as it could go for the constant defiling of my mouth.

In and out, hard and slow and steady.

It was his fingers tangling in my hair and forming knots. It was his nails raking along my scalp.

Wetness pooled between my legs as ice blue eyes seared into me, mocking me as I started to sweat and thirst for the taste of him in my mouth, filling me up in ways I didn’t understand.

The woman’s eyes stayed shut, but her moans were so deep and guttural, neither of them heard when the moan finally escaped me.

Quinlan’s eyes were hard, something animalistic slithering behind them, as he closed his fingers around his cock and stroked, catching his bottom lip between his teeth in a sharp hiss that I felt so deep inside, places I didn’t know existed began to quiver.

Pleasure curled around me like a fist and my fingers twitched at my side as my gaze travelled from his unhinged expression to the control with which he stroked himself slowly.

I began to pant, my stomach and insides cramping with hunger for things I was too ashamed to admit. As if reading my thoughts, Quinlan’s lips curved into a dark smile.

And then, he did the filthiest thing ever.

He pulled out of her mouth and spilled down her neck in thick, controlled bursts. He stroked rhythmically, pouring down her breasts until they glistened, never once looking away from me.

It became too much to bear and my legs regained motor function again, sending me fleeing down the hallways, down the stairs and I didn’t stop until I had the door shut behind me.

My body trembled. My knees were weak and entirely made out of marshmallows.

I shouldn’t have done that. Why did I do that? How will I ever look at Quinn again after this?