Page 29 of His Loved Lycan Luna
“Worry about that later. It is because you were angry. See, these healed just fine,” he says, pointing to the love bites I gave him. It makes no sense why they would heal so unevenly. They all should have healed. I pinch my brows together when his calling slips out once more.
“That’s it, just focus on something else.”
I blink. Clarity washes through me like a tidal wave as I remember I am waiting for Abbie’s call, Kade slipping into my thoughts.
“What time is it?”
“Just after 10 AM, so she should be calling any minute,” Kyson says, lifting his hips and pulling his phone from his back pocket, handing it to me.
“Do you remember how to answer it?”
I nod, unlocking the phone and climbing off him. The moment I do, I immediately feel pulled back to him. I look at the phone in my hand and at Kyson on the bed. It’s like a war in my head between what the bond wants and what I need, and that is to ensure Abbie was okay.
“Focus, think of Abbie.”
I nod. It is difficult to keep a coherent thought. However, I’m glad Kyson ignored his instincts to let me mark him, knowing I will regret it if I miss Abbie’s call. Then the phone rings in my hand, and Kyson, seeing me struggle, moves quickly, answering it, and her face pops up on the screen, snapping me out of my inner battle.
“Abbie!”
“Hey, Kade said you wanted me to call; I dropped my phone in the sink. You know I’m clumsy,” she chuckles.
I furrow my brows. Abbie isn’t clumsy.
“Have you got makeup on?” I ask her, staring at her face, trying to figure out why it looks different. The urges coursing through me instantly stifle as I scrutinize her appearance. Abbie is far from girly, so her wearing a thick coat of makeup is beyond strange. Something feels off.
“Yep, do you like it? Cassandra helped me,” she says, turning the phone, and I see a woman who looks like she just stepped out of some magazine. Her face is made up perfectly and she looks immaculate. The woman smiles and waves enthusiastically before Abbie turns the phone back to herself.
“How have you been?” she asks, and I don’t miss how her eyes move to someone past the phone. Kyson walks into the bathroom, and I move to the couch.
“Cassandra, that is—” I ask.
“Kade’s wife, they have three kids,” Abbie says, cutting me off and smiling, yet something doesn’t feel right; her eyes aren’t lighting up the way they usually do.
“And you’re okay with that?” I ask her.
“Well, I can’t punish him for marrying before he found me,” she says. I squint at her, and Abbie then changes the topic of conversation, asking me questions this time. Eager to hear more about what’s going on with her, I ask about the packhouse, but get only vague answers in response. Kyson comes up behind me and into the camera view.
“Hi Abbie, you look nice,” Kyson says, sending her a wave. She smiles and waves, saying hello. At face value, she seems like her normal, bubbly self. But something is off. Kade says a quick hello over Abbie’s shoulder.
“Well, my King and Queen, Abbie and Cassandra are about to go shopping,” he says.
I nod, and he moves away from the camera’s view. I can hear himtalking to someone but can’t quite make out what he’s saying. Kyson has turned his attention to the tablet I was using last night, checking my writing.
“Well, I will try to call you again soon,” Abbie says.
“I was going to ask if you wanted to come up on the weekend?” I ask her, and I see Kyson look at me out of the corner of my eye.
“That would be wonderful; I have missed you,” Abbie says, her eyes lighting up for the first time.
“Not this weekend, Abbie. A driver won’t be available,” I hear Kade say somewhere off the side.
“It’s fine. I will send Dustin to come to get her and your wife, be a girl’s weekend,” I tell him. Not that I want to see his wife, but I know it might seem suspicious if I don’t invite her too.
“The kids have a soccer match, and it’s Abbie’s first one. She doesn’t want to miss it,” Kade says, and Abbie nods before rubbing behind her ear.
“Yes, I promised the kids I would go; I forgot. Maybe the one after,” she smiles, yet my focus was on her hand rubbing behind her left ear. My neck itches, and I instinctively rub the scar on the back of my neck where my hairline is as I nod. Something in the pit of my stomach tells me something is amiss. I cannot ignore it.
“Sounds great,” I tell them, plastering a fake smile on my face. Abbie’s smile waivers slightly.
