Page 40 of His Found Lycan Luna
He rips the bag outof my hand.
“I knew you were acting up! For fuck’s sake, you shouldn’t eat candy. The sugar goes to your head.” He winds the window down, tossing the bag before I can try to grab it. “You’re so talkative and loud whenever you eat that shit he gives you!” he snaps and I shrink in my chair.
“Seriously, Abbie, think of your health. And my sanity. It drives me up the wall when you’re blubbering and bouncing on your feet!” he scolds.
He never complained before, and Gannon never said I talk too much. That sinking feeling returns, and I turn my gaze out the window.
Wiping a stray tear with my fingers. “You’re not seriously crying over candy?” he huffs, and I feel myself slip into a mask I had learned at a young age. A mask Mrs. Daley earned from us. One of emptiness. Tears won’t help you, no, they would get us beat back at the orphanage. Kade mutters something under his breath.
I turn my thoughts inward, blocking out the world and everyone in it. Going to a place no one can touch me. Going to a place I only visit in my dreams. Grandma’s house. Where my childhood was good before it all got taken away from me when we had to go on the run.
Chapter Thirty
Damian panics the moment he sees me step into the foyer with her in my arms. Her blood runs down my arms, although it has slowed considerably. Ivy infuriated me; I wasn’t supposed to mark her, but when she refused to submit, I lost control.
She hasn’t shifted yet, but she did partially shift when she slashed me, so she must be close to shifting, and now I could have put everything at risk.
Damian’s eyes fly wide open when he notices the blood trailing down my arms, and he tries to rip her away from me. I pull her closer, and his arms drop as his eyes take her in searching for any injury.
“I marked her; she is fine,” I spit through gritted teeth, annoyed at how he goes straight for her as if I have fatally hurt her. He exhales, and his shoulders sag with his obvious relief.
“Not ideal, but we can work with that. Just means changing her will be harder and require a few attempts,” Damian sighs. Ivy looks like a ragdoll in my arms. Looking at her, it almost looks like she is dead with how floppy her body. Movingher around, I pull her closer, so her head rests on my shoulder instead of craning back awkwardly.
“Help me get her upstairs,” I command, and he walks ahead, opening the doors for me before finally opening the bedroom door. I stop, peering around my room before walking back out.
“What is it?” Damian asks, and I look down the hall toward the other wing.
“I can’t stay in there with her; I don’t trust myself,” I tell him.
“Kyson, you can’t just mark her and lock her away in her room and leave her there,” Damian says, and I gaze down at her in my arms.
“Just have them move my stuff tomorrow to hers, just not... It’s Claire’s old room; I can’t,” I tell him before walking off toward her room.
“But you will stay with her. You will move back to your old quarters?” Damian asks.
“I said I would. I know I can’t leave her now; I fucking marked her.”
“And you do not seem the least bit happy about that,” Damian states.
“Damian, stop. Just leave it be.”
He chuckles and shakes his head.
“Whatever you say, My King,” he adds as I step through the threshold, tugging Ivy closer. Damian moves toward the fire, throwing another log in it before going into the bathroom. I hear the bath running. I glance at him as he emerges, and he shrugs.
“What, do you plan on putting her to bed filthy and covered in blood and dirt?” he asks.
“I know what you’re doing,” I growl at him.
“And what is that, My King?” Damian smirks, and I narrow my eyes at him, his lips tugging into a smirk. He knows exactly what he is doing, trying to force me to break down the walls of the bond. He knows the more time spent with her would awaken the bond, awaken her shift.
“Don’t play dumb,” I snap at him before staring down at her. She’s filthy, mud matted in her hair, and her porcelain skin is now stained red. Blood also drenches my chest, neck, and face from her claw marks, and I sigh.
“I will have some clothes sent over for you,” Damian says before turning and leaving.
Biting the inside of my lip, I sigh. I move toward the bathroom before sitting on the edge of the giant bathtub with Ivy on my lap. Quickly stripping her bare, I look away from her naked body. My urges tempt me to taste her flesh and smother her in my scent.
The bond may be weak for her, but it has never been stronger for me, especially as I feel her essence weave through mine. Reaching over, I shut the taps off before stepping into the bath and settling her on my lap, keeping her head above water. Her back rests against my chest. Reaching for a cloth, I begin to wash her.
