All Chapters of Kidnapped By The Lycan Prince : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The sound of my boots echoing down the long halls makes me uneasy. Every step I take feels heavier than the last, my nerves crackling beneath my skin. I turn left, remembering the directions the lead house staff gave me earlier. East wing, second floor, third door on the right. That’s where I’m headed. That’s where Prince Caspian's quarters are.When he said my duties where going to be revised, I thought maybe a permanent spot at the kitchens. Doing the dishes or something mundane.But heck no. That's definitely not what I got.I was assigned to his room instead...to be his wait-on maid?Who the hell thought of that? Heck...It feels strange. Strange because I don’t know why they’d pick me of all people. Strange because I don’t know what to think of it.I’m not sure if I should feel insulted, honored, or just plain confused. One thing I do know is the tension sitting in my chest. It’s an uncomfortable knot, pulling tighter with every step closer I take.And yet, deep down, beneath

The door clicks softly behind me as I step out of the room, letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. It feels like a small victory to finally leave his space in one piece. The air in there is thick, suffocating, and undeniably charged—though I refuse to dwell on the reason why. My duties in the prince’s quarters are done, and I tell myself I won’t think about him for the rest of the day.The east wing is quieter than the rest of the pack house, but as I move further away from its walls, the sound of activity grows louder. I glance around, noticing the steady stream of movement. Omegas rush by, their arms laden with trays, linens, and various supplies. A few court members I rarely see linger in the corridors, their voices a hushed mix of excitement and urgency.The atmosphere hums with an energy I can’t quite place, and my curiosity starts to stir.I head to the kitchen, suddenly feeling hungry and by the time I step through the threshold, the buzz is intensified. The

The grand hall is packed, the buzz of conversation filling the air as Cassidy and I slip in among the gathered crowd. My eyes immediately seek out the raised dais at the far end, where the king and queen are seated.I catch my breath when I see King Damon.His face is a mirror image of Caspian’s, down to the sharp jawline and high cheekbones. For a moment, I think it is Caspian until he shifts slightly, and the softer brown eyes meet mine. I let out a breath.Not Caspian. The king.“That’s his dad?” I whisper to Cassidy, nudging her lightly with my elbow.She nods, her lips curving into a wry smile. “Spitting image, isn’t he?”“Almost. The eyes give it away,” I murmur, glancing at the queen beside him. Her strawberry-blonde hair catches the light, and her icy gray eyes survey the room with a cold detachment. It hits me like a brick—Caspian may look like his father, but his aura, those sharp gray eyes that seem to glow in the dark… they’re all his mother.“Isn't she scary?” Cassidy

My eyes peel open slowly and I take in my environment. White walls... purple curtains...really high ceiling with a cute butterfly chandelier hanging over head, and the faint smell of vanilla...where am I?For a split second, I think I’ve been kidnapped—again. But then, the memory hits me. Cassidy’s house. I’m in Cassidy’s bed.She’s lying beside me, her breathing slow and even. Her hair fans across the pillow, catching the faint light from the digital clock on the bedside table. It’s a few minutes to six, and the sky outside is still cloaked in darkness.Careful not to disturb her, I climb out of the bed, the floor cool beneath my bare feet. I scribble a quick note, leaving it on the pillow next to her: Gone for my duties. Thanks for everything.As I tiptoe out of the room, the creak of the wooden floorboards feels louder than it should. I pause at the door, glancing back to make sure she’s still asleep. She doesn’t stir.Downstairs, the scent of coffee brewing greets me. The kitchen

When I return with his dinner, he’s perched at his desk, a pen twirling lazily between his fingers. His head is slightly bowed as he reads through a stack of documents, the dim light from the desk lamp casting sharp shadows on his chiseled features. There’s a dark elegance to him, a commanding presence that makes the air in the room feel heavier. It’s unsettling how effortlessly intimidating he is, even when he’s doing something as mundane as reading.I clear my throat softly as I set the tray on the table in the corner. He doesn’t look up, doesn’t acknowledge me, as if I’m invisible. That’s fine by me. The less interaction I have with him, the better.With the tray set, I straighten up and move toward the door.“Wait,” he says abruptly, his voice slicing through the silence.I stop in my tracks, glancing over my shoulder. His gaze finally lifts from the papers, sharp and assessing as it lands on me.“This is too much food,” he states, gesturing toward the tray with a flick of his