008: The King's Prisoner

HANNAH’S POV

I woke up with a sharp gasp, my heart pounding in my chest, momentarily confused. The white ceiling above me was anything but familiar. I clenched my eyes shut, the memory of my escape and that Lycan’s claw squeezing at the back of my neck flashing through my mind.

My hand shot up to my neck, fingers trembling as they brushed against my skin, half-expecting a jolt of pain where that brutal strike had landed. But instead of the searing agony I anticipated, there was only a dull soreness.

"Savage bastard," I muttered under my breath, the words tinged with anger and fear. But beneath the anger was a surprising wave of relief. I was alive. Not dead, not rotting away in some cold, dark dungeon. I exhaled a shaky breath, trying to calm the frantic beating of my heart. I needed to focus, to figure out where I was.

The bed beneath me was soft—too soft—like sinking into a cloud. A king-sized bed, I noted, with silken sheets that brushed against my skin with a delicate, almost too-