His Lost Lycan Luna (Kyson and Ivy)

Kyson POV

The carpet had been paced so many times by my feet I was wearing it down. My fingers throbbed and

ached, and I growled. My entire being vibrated with the urge to track her down, knowing she was just on

the other side of the castle and the cause of my pain. It had been two days since I last laid eyes on her,

and the bond was dulling.

I wanted it gone, busying myself with work, but it was near impossible when my f*****g hand wouldn’t

stop throbbing. Annoyed, I growled, reaching for the bottle, my vice, when I felt like I was losing what

control I had. We should be investigating the recent deaths, but the bridge remained closed. So relief

flooded me when Gannon stepped into the room to report it was now open. I needed to get out of this

place and away from Damian. He had been incessantly annoying me to go see her.

“Bridge has reopened, my King,” I nod, pouring some whiskey into my glass before downing it. “Get the

cars ready; we are leaving,” I told him without looking over at him as I poured another drink.

“Yes, my King, but Ivy,” he started to say.

“Do not speak her name,” I bellowed, tossing m glass across the room. It exploded, smashing against

the brickwork around the fireplace, the glass shattering everywhere. Gannon was unflinching in my anger

used to it. However, I was on the verge of exploding. He would run then; they all did.

“As I was saying, she has not left the closet in two days. No one can get into her room or near her, not

even Abbie. She hasn’t eaten, and her fretting is getting worse.” Gannon said, ignoring me.

“Not my problem. I let her back into the castle. Tell Damian to deal with her.” I snapped, annoyed at their

worry for her. She was a traitor’s daughter.

“My King, your Queen,”

“She is not your Queen; she never will be,” I snarled. Gannon growled before turning and walking out.

My shoulders sagged as he left, and I clenched my hand, my fingers aching before opening the mind-

link.

“Dustin, have the car ready. You drive with me today,” I tell him.

“My King, Beta Damian usually.”

“I said you drive with me, send a maid in to clean up the glass in my room,” I tell him, cutting his words

off.

“Yes, my King,” he says, and I cut off the link. After retrieving my wallet and phone, I grabbed my jacket

before leaving the room and heading downstairs. I chuck my jacket to Dustin, who catches it by placing it

over his arm. Clarice and Abbie were excitedly talking about something, and Abbie was glowing vibrantly

and nearly bouncing on the spot. The groceries in her arms nearly toppled out of the basket she carried.

Clarice tried to get her to contain her excitement over whatever it was that had her bouncing with joy.

They cut off abruptly, noticing me, and Abbie bowed respectably, bearing her neck to me. Gannon stood

off near the doors glaring angrily at the wall, and I would have to ask him later what he was so angry

about in such a brief span of time, Surely, his anger wasn’t because of our tiff earlier.

Stepping past them, I went to leave. The sun was setting, and I wanted to get to the town before nightfall,

Eager to put a stop to those k*****g all these rogue children and their families. Gannon followed me

silently; his anger I could feel brewing behind me only made the throbbing in my hand worse. Bringing

the pulse in my hand back to the forefront of my mind and emblazoning my anger more.

Clarice caught up to me with a duffle bag, obviously having escaped the gushing Abbie. “For f**k’s sake,

can someone send a doctor to look at her f*****g hand?” I roared before twisting and punching the stone

wall.

Pain flared up my arm, and Clarice dropped the bag in her hands. My anger diffused, and my burning

hatred dissolved as my Lycan side settled. It was becoming too much. Gannon’s mood also changed,

and Clarice stood quivering beside me, and I sighed, dropping my aura. Unsure of what came over me.

“No one can get close to her. We have tried, my King,” Clarice murmured. Her voice trembled, and l

glanced at the woman. Her face was pale from the fright I had just given her.

My knuckles bled, and I balled my hand into a fist. The dull throbbing was sending me insane. The fact

she wasn’t allowing anyone in was pissing me off. Does she not know I can f*****g feel it? Days I had

been complaining and asking them to tend to her. With a snarl, I turned and stalked off toward my old

chambers when Gannon’s hand fell on my shoulder, and I stopped, turned my head, and glared at him.

“Mind your place, Gannon,” I warned him.

“Your intentions first, my King,” he said, clenching his jaw. The man was tempting my rage to come forth

again. They all were pushing me to my limits.

“They knew they were no match but would d*e trying, and for her, their rogue f*****g Queen I haven’t

even marked. Complete idiocy on my part, making them swear to that pact it would override me every

d**n time, but they would never be a match for the beast that lived in me. No one was a match for the

Lycan King. They knew it too, but I knew they would d*e for her, no matter who brought them their d****e.

I kept walking, his hand falling from my shoulder as I stalked toward the castle entrance.

“My King,” Gannon called.

“Kyson,” He bellowed, but l ignored him, stalking up the steps before turning in the opposite direction of

my quarters to go to my old room.

Gannon jogged to keep up with my long strides as I hunted her down before approaching the double

doors leading into the room. I shoved them open, and Gannon tried to grab me. I turned and growled, my

aura slamming into him and stunning him.

“Out!” I ordered. The command gripped him instantly. They may have the pact to uphold, but they

couldn’t fight a direct command. I slammed the doors as he stood stunned, unable to cross the threshold.

Turning around to face the room, it was dark. The c******s closed, and I reached over and flicked on the

light. Shocked at the state of the room. The mattress was torn to shreds; the linens shredded. Plates sat

by the door, still full like they merely slid the trays through the gap. The stench was horrendous from the

rotting food, and I gagged before picking up the trays and opening the door. I thrust them toward

Gannon, who gripped them.

“Get rid of it,” I snapped, shutting the door.

Wandering through the room, I checked the bathroom, but there was no sign of her. Her scent was

everywhere, stuffing from the mattress scattered all over the floor when I heard the remnants of low

muffled growl. Turning, I faced the closet. The door was closed, yet her scent was most potent in this

corner. Crouching down, I gripped the door handle, opening the door to find two blue sapphire eyes

illuminated in the darkness. Her canines protruded as she lifted her head from amongst the stuffing and

shredded clothes. My clothes and the linens from the room covered the floor where she built her little

nest.

I was a trespasser in her den, a threat to her area. She still hadn’t recognized me. Her instincts feral and

guilt tried to strangle me for what I let become of her. She moved from beneath the linens, her hand

falling on the carpet in front of me. Clawed nails sliced through it as she calculated her a****k. Ivy may

not have shifted or been able to, but She-wolves were just as dangerous when they felt threatened.

Wild gleaming eyes peered back at me before a feral snarl was cut off as she sniffed the air. She

honestly looked more animal than the Ivy I was used to. I did this to her, made her this way. The guilt

flooding through me ate me.

I had destroyed her. Yet I pushed it aside, remembering why I came up here. I crawled a little into her

space, and she growled my body’s own reaction to settle her reacting without my say as I purred, calling

her out of her den.

Briefly, I wondered if it would work because it was clear to me she had been left to fret about the bond I

had denied her. Her whimper told me the bond wasn’t completely lost as she launched forward before

halting at my command before she could touch me. She fell forward onto the carpet, belly down,

submissive. I looked away; it was essentially what the calling was for making them submissive, yet it

pained me seeing her this way, using it against her this way.

My heart jolted seeing her completely submissive by the bond, a slave to it any way she could have it.

Moving closer, I reached for her hand. The sparks were weak but still there as I lifted her hand to my

mouth. A few days and I had managed to wipe out everything that I loved about her just by denying her

the bond.

Her breath hitched, and her other hand reached for me gripped my knee as I sucked on her fingers,

healing each one before setting it down while trying to ignore her hand on my leg, her nails slicing my

pants and skin. I pried her claws from my leg and dropped the calling, allowing her up. I looked away

from her. She was completely naked. Claw marks raked down her soft flesh, maring her skin.

“I need to leave,” I told her. My voice held no emotion though my urge to bundle her in my arms and

soothe was near impossible to hold back. Reaching my hand over my head, I gripped my shirt, tugging it

off before pulling it over her head.

“You eat; you don’t stay in here. You need time outside. I will be back in two days,” I told her before

walking out.