Filed To Story: Traded To The Lycan King Novel (Colette & Merikh) by MG Wattsons
“I got you, Ky.” I murmur, dragging her closer to my body, praying the mate bond will do what it can to ease some of her pain while I try to come up with a plan. What the hell would Marcos do in this situation? Probably something stupid that would seem like he is making a pass at Kyra.
I need to suck it out. That is exactly the weird ass shit Marcos would try to pull. If it was poison or venom, he would just stick his mouth on her soft skin and suck on her. Just the thought of him doing it makes me want to punch a tree, but then, ever so slowly, it dawns on me. I will have to be the one who sucks it out. Poison or not, the least I can do is try. It seems a better option than just holding her and hoping a mate bond will make her feel better.
“Please don’t accuse me of doing something weird to you while you are out of it.” I mutter more to myself. The last thing I need is for her to come to and look at me like I’m some crazed maniac who can’t get enough of her.
I clear my throat, easing her into a flatter position as I suck in a deep breath, trying to ready myself for this. Then, with mild hesitation, I lower my head and press my lips to her heated flesh. The sparks explode and I have to squeeze my eyes shut, reminding myself I am saving her life. This is not the moment for my lycan to go crazy or for my body to assume things that would be offensive to her.
My tongue gently feels for the scratch, finding it before I suck deeply, her skin lifting into my mouth. At first there is nothing, no liquid, or blood, so I open my lips a little wider, gazing up at her as she seems to grow conscious and lift her head to watch me. I suck deeper, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion before a gentle pop vibrates under my lips and I can feel a burning liquid as it rushes into my mouth.
I release her, spitting to the side before stooping back down again, sucking harder, faster in fear I am too slow to save her. Thin fingers wrap into my hair, gripping a tight as her soft painful cries turn to a moan as she arches her back, her stomach lifting from the ground. I release my mouth again, spitting a black liquid mixed with blood as I furrow my brows and assess her wound. Her fingers pull my head back, my chin rising as I slide a look in her direction.
The haze is gone, the one that made et it so easy to see that she was not herself. We lock eyes, my heart racing a try to gauge what sheds thinking. Her bottom lip quivers before she traps it between her teeth, closes her eyes, and looks away.
“Does it feel better?” I ask her, my voice husky as I try to control my erratic breathing.
“I-I think so.” She croaks, pressing her head back into the dirt. “What the hell was that?”
“I am not entirely sure yet.” I admit and she seems confused.
“But you sucked it out of me, anyway?” She asks.
“Of course.” I glare at her. “Have I not made it clear I will do everything to make sure you are safe?”
“Where is the baby?” She asks, jolting straight up with a groan as she looks to the side. Kyra exhales, dragging a hand over her face in exhaustion. “Can we sleep here tonight?”
“Yeah, you two sleep. I will do watch duty.” I say, pushing away from her, then spitting out the strange taste in my mouth.
Her hand reaches out, catching me as she strokes her thumb over the top of my hand. I feel my heart skip a beat as I gaze down at her touch.
“Yes?” I ask her, lifting my eyes after a moment to meet hers. There is sorrow and confusion in them. A woman falling apart while still somehow managing to stay put together.
“Could you…could you stay with us?” She whispers, and I chuckle.
“I won’t go far, I promise.” I tell her, but she squeezes my hand tighter, her face flashing pale as she shakes her head no.
“Could you…..hold us.” She whispers, her cheeks growing pink as I gape at her.
“H-h-hold you?” I stutter out and she nods her head.
“Just this once?”
Kyra’s lips purse as she breathes softly through them, her hair still caked to her forehead and cheeks from where she was sweating. I want nothing more than to sweep the strands from her face, caressing her still flushed skin. But I hold back, refusing to allow myself these small stolen moments.
Then again, if stolen moments are the only moments we are destined for, is it wrong to act on them? She mumbles as she adjusts her position with my arm up, allowing her to move as she twists her body toward me. Her chin tilts up, putting the full force of her spectacular freckles on display.
There is no force strong enough in the world to stop me as my fingers gently brush over her brow, freeing her face of the sweat dried hair. Heavens, she is so perfect. More so than when she left. Kyra would have worn me down in a week had she stayed. My ability to tell her no, to see her in pain, would have seen me rejecting any mate that came my way.
I don’t know if I did the right thing by rejecting her and ignoring her. I was trying to protect her from the hurt of knowing she wasn’t fated to be mine. That little voice in the back of her head saying there is someone else better for me than her. And I was trying to save myself from the fear of finding someone else while I was with her.
“You stayed,” she whispers, startling me as I yank my hand back and clear my throat.
“I thought you wanted me to?” I ask, a nervousness causing me to swallow a growing lump in my throat. What if she asked only because she was poisoned and she doesn’t remember?
“No, I know it’s just that…” She frowns, and looks down at the baby in her arms. “I just figured you would run off after we fell asleep.”
“You were shivering.” I lie, clearing my throat yet again, and I sit up and look away. Why am I feeling like I need to lie to her? Kyra is well aware that we are mates, I have told her as much and it seems a mately duty to do as she asks.
“I must have been cold.” She whispers, but I can hear the doubt in her voice. When I turn to look at her, she is sporting a ghost of a smile. Her eyes watch me closely, peering through me as if she can read my every thought. Kyra knows why I stayed, and she knows why I lied.
“Probably.” I mutter, pushing myself up to stand as I turn and look for something to do, anything to do.
“What do you think was used to poison me?” She asks, sitting up as the baby fusses, flailing his little arms.
“That is a good question.” I mutter, moving around the trees to find the dead wizard we had discarded earlier. I squat down, pushing the leaves around, looking for any sign of foul play. There is nothing, not a vial or even a familiar scent to the one on him. Until I move closer, leaning down near his head. A thick ooze leaks from the back of his skull.
“What the hell?” I mutter to myself, gripping his rigid shoulders and pushing him over. He has been dead for far too long for something to be bleeding out of him. The memory of the zombie wolves comes to mind, and I wonder if there is now a similar situation with the wizards. The fae have divided, so it is not impossible.
A strong scent slams into me, causing me to fall back on my ass and gag as I drop him and scramble away. The putrid smell is worse than death, but that of a carcass used to grow spores and attract bugs for mating. And yet, there is a floral hint, one I know but struggle to place as I reach out and hesitantly touch it.
It burns on contact; the ooze sizzling my skin as I hiss and wipe it on the grass, shaking my hand. I look at it with care, my nose scrunched in disbelief as I inspect not only my injured finger, but the smell one more time.
“What is that?” Kyra asks. She is now standing, watching me from behind a tree, the baby in her arms.
I pull my brows together in deep thought. I almost think it is wolfsbane in some form or another, but why does it burn now and not before when I sucked it from her wound? Fuck, why does nothing make sense anymore?
“I’m not sure,” I huff, my frustration only growing as I stand and storm over to her. Kyra’s eyes flare as she takes a cautious step back before I reach out and take the baby into my arms. The infant boy fusses, the tiniest pout on his little lips before his dark eyes close, and he lets out a screech of dislike.
“What are you doing?” Kyra panics, reaching for me as I spin away from her.
“I am looking him over to see if he is hurt, Ky. To make sure he doesn’t have any of this shit on him.” I mutter, peeling back the fabric wrapped around him. His little fists fly up as if he is ready to fight, which only makes me smirk. This little guy came into this world the center of a war and is ready to swing at his foes.
“He is fine,” Kyra assures me, her hand on my back as she hobbles closer, trying to peek around my arm. “I have checked him over numerous times already. Just give him back to me. Please.”
The panic in her voice, the way it quivers as she clenches onto my arm, has me turning to look at her. I take a step back, giving us space as I sigh and try like hell not to give her a look of pity.
“I think it is best for me to take him for a little while.”
“No, I am fine. Now give him back. What if you drop him, or you are too rough, or maybe your scars will scare him?” She seems frantic, like she had been before, back when she was in her daze and convinced I was her dead mate and this was her own child. My heart breaks as tilt my head and exhale, my lip curling down in distress.
“Kyra.” I say softly and she looks at me, taking her eyes off the baby for a moment and she blinks.
“Shit. I’m sorry about saying that about your scars. It’s just that…”
I take a step closer to her, then another, then I reach out and cup her cheek with my deformed hand.
“Look at me.” I say, demanding her undivided attention. “This is not your baby. He has a family, one he belongs with, and when we unite them, it will end this war.”