Filed To Story: Traded To The Lycan King Novel (Colette & Merikh) by MG Wattsons
“These burns…” she muses. “They are from a dragon Elm said.”
“Yeah, Giselle shot a ball of fire at Colette and he took the hit,” Elm says walking over. My face turns pink, my heart racing at the terrible memory.
“But this is not a dragon’s flame. This is…this is magical, Elm.” She whispers, her words frantic as she slides a worried glance in my direction.
“What the hell does that mean?” I ask.
“That’s not possible. Dragons, even in human form, shoot the same flame, Cinth.” Elm argues with her.
“This is a purely, magically wound.” She argues back. “I don’t know what to tell you, other than this is not a dragon’s flame.
“What does that mean!?” I yell, finally getting their attention.
“It means I can’t heal him. Not completely.” She whispers, and I look at Elm who drags his hands through his hair cursing.
“And that Giselle is not what she claims to be. She is not a dragon.” Elm says as the thought comes to him.
“Then what the hell is she?” Merikh asks.
“I don’t know.” Elm says with a forlorn look on his face. “But she isn’t what she claimed to be and somehow, we all missed it.”
“Merikh Elm’s words ring in my ears. The severity of what is unraveling before us is astounding. How the hell we all missed it, how I dismissed the signs and blamed someone else for the red–eyed wolves? It was so easy for them to use my blatant hatred for Johannes and the vampires against me.
Giselle, the person who has been on the council for many years longer than I have, isn’t the species she said she was? Then what the is she? Species can sense their own kind, so we would all have known if she was one of us. How could she get away with this for so long! How could not a single person know!
“This is a joke. It has to be.” I say, looking between Elm and the woman he claims is his sister, hoping they tell me it is. Elm averts his eyes and clears his throat. “Are you serious right now? How the hell does something like this even happen? Someone can just pretend to be a species?”
“You didn’t notice anything off about her or her scent.” He asks me like I am the one who is at fault. I scoff, shaking my head.
“I have only ever met her as a dragon representative. It is how she was introduced to me. Lycans and wolves use our scent to determine species and if she has been the only so–called dragon I have met, then how the am I supposed to know it is wrong?” I snap at him. Elm places his hands on his head, breathing deeply.
“None of this matters right now,” Colette says softly, touching my arm as she pulls me toward her.
“It most certainly matters.” I scoff, looking down at her. She shakes her head. “What could be more important?”
“What matters right now, at this moment, is getting you better.” She says, a command in her eyes that only adds to the burning irritation in my gut.
“My injuries are nothing in the face of everything happening. At this point, we should head back to our pack and heal there, where we are safer.” I tell her. Colette ignores me as she turns away and moves toward Elm’s sister.
“You said you can’t heal his injury. Are you completely sure?” She asks, sounding desperate. “There is absolutely nothing you can do?”
Hyacinth frowns and looks at me “Would you mind letting me look once more?” She asks, and I chuckle dryly. This is such a crock of shit, these empty promises of getting fixed when my lycan is already working overtime to do just that.
“This is useless,” I tell everyone, looking around the room at all three of them. “You have already established there is nothing to do with magical injuries like this. What is the point of trying when you will only fail?”
“I don’t want to try. I just want to be sure there is nothing I can offer to help.” She frowns.
I grit my teeth, looking at Colette who begs with her big puppy eyes, and I groan in frustration. What I want is to rest, with my mate actually staying by my side. What I need is for people to stop acting like I am on my deathbed and not getting better every little by little.
“Fine,” I say through a clenched jaw, once again turning my back so she can see it.
Colette slides onto the side table, sitting on it with my hands gripping the sides to her waist. She places her hands on my shoulders, those addictive and familiar sparks drawing out a sigh of content as my pain lessens significantly.
“This may hurt as I poke and prod around your injury” Hyacinth says, her footsteps padding across the floor toward me.
Her fingers are warm, exploring the singed skin on the outside of the wound. She hums in question once or twice, a sharp pain radiating through my spine as she presses on the most tender area at the upper part near my shoulder. Again she hums in thought and I sigh heavily, Ready to be done.
Colette’s hands slide up my neck, finding either side of my jaw as she cups my face and makes me look at her. Her all seeing brown eyes meet mine and she frowns before pressing her forehead to mine.
“Are you okay?” She whispers.
“Fine.” I mutter, not wanting to unload on her how I really am. Because right now I am far from fine.
I am livid, and in pain and murderous and…well..I’m very mad about everything My mate’s father wants to steal her away. There is an unknown species who took out a chunk off my back and is leading a war against half of the council. Ex Council, actually. And there are random people coming and going in a partially demolished mansion.
We are not safe here, we are exposed. Our location is known to our enemies. Even with the help of our allies, who I am not even sure we can trust, we are sitting and waiting for disaster to strike. And to top it all off, my brother, and beta, has lost his ever–loving mind over a mate he keeps insisting he wants to reject.
“Then let me in,” Colette whispers, and I exhale deeply.
“I can’t.” I tell her honestly. She can’t know what I am feeling. I already look like a weak asshole in my current state. I don’t need her knowing my mental state is just as messy.
“Fuuuuck,” I groan, pain racing up my spine as my whole body shivers and I squeeze my eyes closed tight.
“Sorry,” she whispers, sounding distracted.
“Hyacinth…” Elm says, his voice one full of pain.