Page 24 of His Lost Lycan Luna

"I am off for a few hours. I will come with you," Gannon says with a shrug, and Clarice looks at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. She lifts a finger, pointing it at him accusingly.

"You want to grocery shop with us?" Clarice asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Or you can give me the list, and I will take her," Gannon says, finishing the last bite of his sandwich before taking his plate to the sink. Clarice watches him for a second, then shrugs. "Works for me. I wanted to send Ester, but seeing as she is now preoccupied and you're willing, you can go with Abbie."

I watch as she retrieves a pen and paper; she scribbles on it and hands it to me before handing me a keycard. I have seen one before but never used one. Mrs. Daley usually sent us with a list into town but never gave us money. The townspeople would just take the list and bill her at the end of the month.

"Just grab these things. They weren't on the delivery," Clarice says with a sigh. She holds the list out to me, and I take the list and glance at her cursive writing, and gulp. I chew my lip, wondering if I should tell her I can't read it, yet I don't want to embarrass myself either. So I remain quiet, and I figure I can just ask the clerk at the store. I put the list in my apron pocket as Gannon walks off toward the doors then stops, waiting for me.

"Are you sure I can leave?" I whisper to Clarice, not wanting to get into trouble with the King.

"Gannon is with you. And as I said, you're not a prisoner here, Abbie. If you want to go to town, you only have to ask," Clarice says, confusing me further. Ask? Is it possible for me to request to leave too?

"Abbie," Gannon says, and I hurry over to him, not wanting to anger him. Gannon leads me out of the castle, and I follow a few steps behind him so I don't get in his way.

"I'm not walking. Come on. I will drive us," he says, gripping my arm and leading me to some garages at the back of the stables. He rummages in a small cupboard full of keys, finding the ones he is after and shutting it.

I pause, watching as he moves toward a car. It makes me nervous about getting into the car with him. Not that he has given me any reason to fear him. He’s just… powerful and imposing. And Clarice knows where I am and who I am with, yet unease creeps over me at the thought of being in a confined space with the intimidating man.

He opens the driver's side door before glancing at me. "Abbie?" he says, and I chew my lip glancing at the doors we came through. He sighs, walking over to me.

"I don't bite," he says, grabbing my hand, but I pull away from him. His brows furrow. I know these sorts of niceties, and they always lead to some repayment or expectation.

I know that better than anyone. The butcher was kind at first, then he started stealing touches, then forcibly taking them. Until one day I refused to help him unload his truck. Mrs. Daley told me if I didn't assist him in the basement, she wouldn't let us eat. She promised us food if I just helped him. Panic courses through me. Is that why he is being nice? Clarice said to steer clear of him, so I find it odd that he is trying to be near me. What are his intentions?

"I won't hurt you, come on," he says, stepping away and toward his car. He walks around the other side and opens the passenger door.

"Abbie, please get in the car," he says, and I glance at the roller doors leading in. My mind wandered to what my chances of escape were. Yet even I knew it would be pointless. If I upset him, what if that got Ivy in trouble? So I reluctantly did as he asked.

Gannon shuts the door behind me, and I jump at the bang. He walks around the other side of the car and climbs in.

I glance around his car to notice duct tape, rope, and some other equipment that makes my heart race faster.You idiot Abbie, I should have run.My fingers tremble as I reach for the door handle as he starts the car. My movement does not go unmissed by the man, who quickly looks at me before following my gaze to the things on the floor. Gannon leans over, grabbing the crowbar from the footwell just as I click the door handle.

His hand falls on my knee, and my lip quivers as I look at him to find him staring at me.

"Sorry, I should have checked the car beforehand," he says, leaning down and snatching up the rest of the stuff in the footwell.

My hands tremble as he gathers the things in his arms before opening his door. "Just work equipment," he says, getting out and moving toward another car where he opens the back door. He tosses the stuff on the back floor while I try to calm my racing heart.

What kind of work did he do that requires duct tape, rope, and a bloody crowbar? Gannon climbs back into the car. Yet my hand is still on the door handle when he leans over, pulling my hand away that has a death grip on it. He sets my hand on my lap and quickly leans over closing my door properly.

"You spook easily," he mutters more to himself. I watch him as he clips in his seat belt and turns his attention back to the front. I fiddle with my fingers as he pulls out of the garage while playing with the radio.

"Do you like music?" he asks, and I nod, chewing on my fingernails. I know it is a terrible habit, but I find comfort in it while he finds a station he likes.

I stare out at the scenery as he drives. The drive to town is awkward and silent, and I hadn't noticed I had chewed one cuticle from my fingertip with my nervousness until Gannon stops the car and snatches the hand I am chewing on, which makes me jump. The man curses under his breath.

He growls, holding my hand up and examining it while I gasp at what I mindlessly have done, not realizing I had chewed it entirely down to the flesh beneath. He clicks his tongue and curses and reaches into the glove box, where he pulls out a tissue. Gannon wraps it around my fingertip, firmly pressing down on it.

"You didn't feel that you had bitten it off?" he asks. Disapproval is evident on his face. I don't answer. I hardly feel pain, especially mediocre pain like that. It is merely a flesh wound, and it will heal quick enough.

He checks my finger, and it has stopped bleeding. So he pockets the bloody tissue and shakes his head. I watch as he glares out the window and goes to speak but then climbs out of the car. We’ve pulled up at some kind of general store. I quickly climb out of the car just as Gannon reaches my door. I step away from him immediately, and put some space between us.

"Have you got your list?" he asks, and I nod, pulling the folded piece of paper from my apron. He nods, walking ahead and opening the glass shop door. A bell sounds as we enter, and I see aisles of stock lining the store and a friendly enough-looking woman behind the counter. The woman says hello to Gannon and quickly waves him over.

"Hey, Leisha," he says, nudging me toward the aisles and passing me a basket. I take it while he wanders off to speak with the friendly clerk he seems to know. She is an older woman about Clarice's age.

I open the note Clarice had given me, glancing between the paper and the things on the shelves. I try to match the cursive writing to what is written on the products. However, after a few minutes, I still haven't found a single thing that matches her handwriting when I feel a presence behind me. The warmth of his chest seeps into my back as he leans down behind me and peers over my shoulder at my empty basket.

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