Page 22 of His Lost Lycan Luna

"We will catch those responsible for your sister's death," Damian assures me.

The liquor reduces my searing anger to a simmer as it burns through my system. I try to forget; nothing good comes from dragging the past to the present.

"Now, how is your mate?" Damian asks, changing the subject.

"We don't know if she is," I tell him, and he raises an eyebrow at me. "Well, we don't know, not for sure anyway."

"Are you trying to convince yourself or me that she isn't your mate? You have never shown so much interest in any other woman. But her? I have seen how you look at her; I know she is your mate. And I have seen your reaction to her. Almost like you are about to jump out of your skin and mate with her on the spot," Damian states.

I roll my eyes at my Beta; the man is too observant for his own good.

"I know you, Kyson, so where is she?" he asks with a smirk plastered on his face, and I groan.

"In the room across from me," I tell him, my lips tugging up. Fuck. He’s right. It is the only thing that explains the strange pull toward her.

"And you say she is not your mate, yet you have her sleeping in your quarters. Not even Ester could stay up here, hmm?"

"Fine, let's say she is. We don't have any info on her. She is a common werewolf and—"

"And you are the King. No one will say shit to you about her being a werewolf and not a Lycan. You could always change her anyway. If she is your mate, and I know she is, she is now in danger. The rebels are back, and if they find out she is your mate, Ivy will have a target on her back," Damian tells me.

"So, what are you saying? Spit it out," I tell him.

"I'm saying keep her close. She needs the training to protect herself. Ivy needs you near to help forge the bond quicker. She may not know who you are to her. But the more time you spend with her, the stronger the bond will solidify to ensure she survives you changing her. It will also strengthen you; Lycans aren't supposed to go without their mates once found. You know this, Kyson.”

"Yeah, I know. She's across the hall, yet even that feels too far away," I tell him, and he laughs softly.

"Don't say it," I warn him, admitting what is right in front of me. Ivy is my mate. I just don’t want to believe it. Knowing she will become my weakness and share the same knife hanging above my head, knowing it will now be above hers as well, frightens me. They will come for her to reach me if she is, in fact, my mate.

"I won't say a word. Gannon figured it out, but I told him to keep it to himself."

"Yes, keep it that way. I want her to find out on her own."

"Gannon and I have canceled all your appointments this week and next. You have the next two weeks off. None of us are comfortable knowing the rebels and hunters are back, and we want to ensure your - and potentially our queen’s - safety. We don't advise you to leave the castle, my King."

"Keep my local appointments. They can visit the castle instead. I will go crazy not working; I always need a distraction this time of the year," I tell him.

"You have just the right distraction in the room across from you, but as you wish. We can't afford risks; early morning meetings and that is it, my King. Advisors agree, the risk is too high for you to be out and about."

"Yes, and I also don't want to leave her alone," I admit.

Damian smiles but adds nothing to my obsession with my mate. "I will have a guard stationed on this floor at all times and one on Ivy when you aren't with her," Damian explains, and I nod.

"I want her watched at all times. All times, Damian. I won't risk her getting hurt."

"As you wish, my King."

ChapterFifteen

ABBIE

Two days have passed, and I have hardly been able to talk to Ivy. I’ve only seen here in small intervals, here and there when we pass each other in the corridors. The King kept her ridiculously busy and spending so much time in these quarters by myself is incredibly boring. The men on this floor are hardly here, and I find myself wishing they were so that I would have something to clean. My days are becoming repetitive and blurring into one. Mopping floors that are never dirty or wiping non-existent dust from chandeliers and lamps. There is only so much one can tolerate and looking at the walls while listening to the emptiness of the place is beginning to bother me.

Filling my mop bucket, I drop in some cleaning chemicals and grab my mop. I struggle under the weight of the sloshing water as I make my way from the laundry, passing Clarice in the kitchens, who is busy making lunches, and out to the foyer. Water sloshes over the sides, spilling onto the floors. I curse as I set the bucket down and use the mop to clean up the mess I just made on the steps.

With a groan, I reach for the bucket, but only a hand grabs it for me; I have no idea where he came from and didn't even hear him sneak up the steps behind me. He grabs the bucket without a word and starts walking up the steps. He says nothing, and I glance at Gannon, who doesn't even look back and continues carrying the heavy bucket to his quarters. Once we step inside the guard quarters he sets it down on the top step and keeps walking.

"Thank you," I call after him, but he doesn't even acknowledge me, instead just keeps walking toward his bedroom. I watch him slip into his room and close the door. With a sigh, I start scrubbing the clean floors. I don't see him come back out of his room, and the floor is so quiet I am sure he must have slipped past at some point. Clarice eventually sends lunch up with Ester. She has blonde hair, and her servant's uniform is far too tight. Sometimes when she bends over, I can see her ass cheeks poking out from the bottom. I think it is a little inappropriate given how many men lurk around here, though they don't seem to mind her half-clad body and her boobs busting out her uniform.

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