Page 34 of His Lost Lycan Luna

The children at the orphanage are allowed in the classes that are taught; they aren't rogues. Rogues are not allowed the privilege of an education. They tried to help teach us, but they weren't the best teachers.

So, listening to the story as he reads it paints a picture in my head so vivid, I could listen to him speak all day; I finally understand his fascination with his books.

He stops when I start yawning, gently placing the book down and rubbing my thigh.

"We can read more tomorrow. You are tired," he states, and I nod against his shoulder before climbing off his lap. I walk toward his door, heading for my room.

I miss Abbie. I haven't seen even a glimpse of her today. She must be worried about me; she always used to worry.

"Ivy, where are you going?" he asks, and I freeze, puzzled by his question, before cursing under my breath. I turn away, realizing he hadn't dismissed me.

"I'm sorry, I thought you meant…" I didn't know what he meant; I was too tired and walked off without permission. Did he ask me to do something? My thoughts are plagued with how Abbie is doing that I’m hardly paying attention to my surroundings.

The King watches me for a second, turning his head to the side, looking me up and down.

"You may go. I will see you at breakfast."

I bow slightly before taking my leave. I rush back to my tiny room, relieved that I am now on my own and don't have to worry about being watched.

Only when I lay down did I realize something– the King's blanket is gone, the one I always found placed in my room whenever I tried to return it. At least, I had assumed it was his. It saddens me. I had grown attached to it for some reason, and the King's lingering scent comforted me.

I sigh and lay down, trying to find a comfortable position when the door opens, and I sit upright. The King walks in with the blanket, and I stand up immediately.

"Remain where you are," he says. What is he doing here? "I had it washed for you," he says, placing the blanket over me. My brows furrow as the floral scent of the soap wafts to my nose. I sniff the blanket and instantly realize it smells different. I shouldn't find that disappointing, but I do.

"You seem upset," he states while observing me, making me realize I forgot he was in the room.

"No, My King. It just smells different–the soap."

He chuckles as if what I said had amused him.

"Different, how?" he asks, stepping further into my tiny room.

"Just different," I lie, not wanting to admit that it doesn't smell like him.

"Hmm, and that is all?" He smiles. I feel my face heat with embarrassment when he suddenly walks out before returning with a pillow.

"I will swap you," he says, making my brows furrow, confused by what he means. He points to the pillow behind me.

"Pardon, sir?"

"Hand me your pillow, Ivy."

Oh gosh, what was he up to now? He could be so bizarre sometimes.

"Ivy?"

I glance at my pillow before grabbing it and holding it to me. I sniff it. Surely, he doesn't want to swap pillows? Mine will stink with the scent of a rogue. I know my smell repulses most wolves. It is what helps separate us, to help identify pack wolves from rogues.

However, for me, everyone just has their own unique scent. I can't differentiate between rogue and pack wolf; to me, everyone just smells different. Abbie always said something was wrong with me because everyone smelled the same to her back at the orphanage, while we were the odd ones that didn't have a pack scent.

"May I?" the King asks before reaching for my pillow tucked in my arms. He takes it before handing me his.

I sniff it involuntarily, only stopping when I hear him laugh softly, and the blood runs to my face at what I did in front of him.

"Don't be embarrassed, Ivy. You have been sleeping with my scent all week," he says as he tugs the corner of my blanket—well, his blanket.

"You knew?" I ask him, confused.

---