Chapter Forty-Three

Claire

The rough feel of Axel's hands slid over her skin, down beneath the top of her thighs, holstering her up onto his hips. Trapped right where she wanted to be forever. She'd fallen into the bliss of his mouth, his taste, everything that made them so perfect for each other filled her at once.

Claire swam in the warmth of his scent—then it hit her.

That wasn't his scent.

Reality slapped her, knocking her off her dream wave, and she sat up. It took several seconds for her eyes to adjust from sleep, but she knew instantly that she wasn't in Axel's bed.

Or any familiar room.

The high vaulted ceiling was engraved with detailed crowns and swords in the marbled stone. Everything about the room screamed royalty—the four-post bed with a sheer canopy above her, the satin sheets, and the deep wood furniture. Even the window that led toward the balcony was beautiful stained glass.

Claire remembered being taken once, and Axel saving her, but after that, everything was fuzzy. She rubbed her forehead, trying to scrub away the fog when the bedroom door opened.

A small woman, in her late fifties, with gray hair and a maid's outfit walked in, pushing a cart that made Claire's mouth water.

"You're up," she said in a deep southern accent. "Tristan wanted me to have this here for you when you woke, so you wouldn't wonder the halls and get lost," she said with a chuckle.

Tristan? Who the hell was Tristan?

Claire pulled the satin sheets from her legs and stood up, looking down at a long t-shirt that she didn't recognize. "What's going on?" she asked, pushing her blonde hair from her face. "Where am I? Why am I here?"

The maid stopped unloading the food and turned to look at her. "Are you okay, dear? You seem confused."

Claire glanced around again, trying to piece together something she was obviously missing. "I don't know where I am," Claire said. "I woke up here, and I don't know how I got here."

The maid's eyes opened in shock, and she began to hurry and unload the food before pushing the cart toward the door. Clair panicked and walked over, grabbing the edge of the cart. "Please don’t leave me. Tell me where I am. Tell me why I'm here. What's your name?"

The maid tugged harder on the cart, giving Claire a pleading look. "Stop before you get us both in trouble."

Claire pulled harder. "Where. Am. I?"

She groaned and looked over her shoulder down a long hallway with numerous doors on each side. "My name is Libby, and you're at Phillips Castle."

"What the—Phillips Castle. What is that?"

Libby gnawed on her bottom lip. "The Lycan King. King Tristian Phillips," she mumbled. "Now, let me go before I get fired," she said, tugging one final time before slamming the door in Claire's face.

Claire pushed her hair back against her head and took a deep breath. The Lycan King. He'd taken her. All the memories from the night before came back. After Axel went to meet with Mark, she'd sat with Grace, and someone come in and hurt Grace.

All Claire remembered after that was being taken and waking up here. Hot tears threatened her eyes, but she wasn't going to cry. It didn't look like they hurt Grace too badly, and she was a shewolf—she would heal, wouldn't she?

Claire ran over toward the balcony doors, swinging open the stained glass, she stalled. She was high—really high. Like Rapunzel in a tower high, which explained why they didn't bother locking the doors.

Because she couldn't get down if she wanted to. Panic began to climb her throat and strangle her. What was she going to do? She needed to get out. Maybe Libby would have pity, or some other worker, and help her escape.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Claire spun around, and her mouth dropped open in surprise. Jaxon Phillips stood at the foot of her bed, tracing the four-post bed with his fingertips. She didn't know much about him, other than he was Axel's dorm mate and on the football team, but it all made sense now.

Tristan Phillips. Jaxton Phillips.

"What am I doing here?" Claire asked. "Where is Axel?"

Jaxton eyed Claire with a soft smile. "I'm sure they are advising a plan to attack," he said, walking closer with his hands in his pockets. "To no avail. He can't get you here."

"Why … why am I here, Jaxton? I don't understand. Are you the lycan king? Are you Tristan?"

He chuckled humorlessly. "No. Tristan is my brother. Come now, he wants to see you. Sarah will help you get dressed," he said, gesturing toward his left. Claire stepped inside and noticed a petite young girl standing by a huge wardrobe.

Claire pressed her mouth into a thin line and curled her fingers into fist. "I'm not getting dress for some psycho lycan king that thinks he can just come in and kidnap me. I want my mate. I want Axel."

Jaxton didn't blink. "You'll do as he says, or you'll be tossed in the cells. You can go ahead and forget about Axel. We'll take care of the mark later. We have ways of removing it."

Claire palmed her neck, her tears turning into rage. "I don't want to remove my mark, you arrogant—"

Jaxton put up his finger. "Claire. I know you're new to this, so let me inform you of the rules, okay? You do what Tristan says, or he'll make your life hell. Do you understand? Axel is no longer in your life. He forfeited that right when he failed to protect you at the pack house. Get your ass dressed or you'll regret it."

He turned on his heel and disappeared through the giant wooden doors.

Claire let out a hushed cry and covered her mouth.

"It'll be easier if you just do what he says. He'll treat you right. He's been waiting a long time for you," Sarah whispered.

Claire glanced over at her petite body and young face. She wore a smile that actually reached her eyes, and to be honest, every she'd met had worn one. Whether they were true or not was up for debate.

But they seemed happy.

But Claire would never be happy with Axel. Things had gone too far—she'd fallen in love with him; he'd marked her, molded with her. Tristan wouldn't get away with this.

Sarah gestured her over with her hand and ushered her inside a closet, next to a wardrobe that put Claire's to shame in her apartment. What she would do to move back into her apartment with Axel.

To have her dad know where she was staying and know the truth. For Aunt D to serve her some crappy vegetarian food that she hated.

"Don't cry," Sarah said, sliding her palms down her shoulders. "Look at the gown he wants you to wear. It's stunning."

Sarah walked over, wearing a similar outfit as Libby, and pulled out an aqua sequined gown with thin straps and a long train. "Come now. We have to get you ready."

An hour later, Claire stepped out of the room wearing the gown and a fancy braided hairstyle that took too long for her liking. She eyed every door as they passed it, hoping one of them would be an exit for her unprepared escape plan.

Sarah led her down a grand staircase, over marbled floors, and high ceilings. The artwork and décor screamed old money. It was antique and beautiful but not flashy and modern.

They walked downstairs and toward a giant room with what looked like a red carpet that led toward another set of double doors. Staff lined the walls—some butlers and others guards. It all looked like it'd been plucked from a historical novel and tossed in page by page.

Sarah stopped in front of another set of doors and nodded at the guard. He gave her a small nod and opened the door, letting them inside. Claire felt everyone's eyes on her as she walked through the doors and into a grand room with a throne sitting at the other side.

Who she assumed was Tristan stood from the throne when she walked in, descended the steps, and walked toward her. His stride was easygoing, determined and quick. The closer he got to her, the more she noticed the resemblance to Jaxton. The dark hair and light eyes.

When he stopped, he smiled a picture-perfect magazine-worthy smile. "Claire Summers," he said in a deep voice. "I've been waiting for you, my queen."