Page 50 of His Lost Lycan Luna

"Kyson..." My lips quiver. How does he not see this is wrong?

Kyson turns around slowly, his eyes going to me, then the clothes sitting on the bed, and his jaw clenches. "1..."

"I'll go, but can I wear my uniform?" I plead.

"2..." he says, buttoning up his shirt. When I don't move, he slowly walks toward me, buttoning up his shirt as he does.

"Don't make me say it, Ivy."

"But..." his eyes lift to mine, and the anger I see in his gaze makes me flinch.

"But what? Because you want to remain a servant?" he asks, moving closer, and I step back. "Because you're worried I am using you for your body, as a sex slave?" he snaps at me. Another few steps which I match, stepping back only for my knees to hit the back of the bed.

"Because you're a rogue, and I am King?" he growls, and I fall back when he towers over me. Kyson leans over my body, forcing me on my back with his hands on either side of my face.

"Any more excuses?" he asks, and I shake my head, my hands trembling against his chest.

"Your King said to get dressed, so you get dressed and put the clothes on."

I gulp and quickly nod... When his eyes go to my hands, clutching his shirt in my shaky grip.

"No more excuses. Put the clothes on," he says softly, pressing his lips to mine briefly before pushing off the bed and allowing me to get up. I snatch the clothes and start slipping them on.

For now, there is nothing I can do but play his strange game and accept it, so I nod and reach for them with a sigh.

ChapterThirty-One

KYSON

Her awkwardness is adorable, though also slightly annoying when it persists. I can tell how uncomfortable she is doing everyday, mundane things that should be normal to anybody. It shows me just how damaged her life has been.

Ivy always stands like she's waiting for orders or waiting for me to ask her to do something. Unless I force her to sit, she'll remain standing. Simple things no one would even question doing; she has to be told to do. It's irritating and infuriating to me. At least she put the clothes on, but now she's standing at the door with her eyes straight ahead, hands behind her back.

We just bathed together, yet she is still trying to be my servant. She acts like it's uncomfortable for her to be herself, or maybe she just isn't used to being herself–only used to the version of what everyone wants her to be. It's like watching someone who is institutionalized. She can't function outside of the routine she is used to, the script others wrote for her, or her brain will short-circuit.

When another knock raps on the door, I know the car is ready. I watch her move to open it before standing back in her corner as if she can blend into the bookcase. I growl and shake my head. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other as my Beta walks in, noticing her and looking her over.

He knows she is my mate. He also knows my struggle with her to be a person and not a damn slave that answers my every whim. I so much as mutter about something, and she is going to clean it or fix it! I rub my temples feeling a headache building. I want to scream and break something. She is driving me crazy and I feel like I am walking on eggshells trying not to scare her.

As soon Ivy got dressed, she raced around cleaning up the mess I had made the night before, even after I told her not to. She muttered about it being her job to clean. When I tried to help, she would get to it before I could. It got to the point where I was trying to race her. I managed a few things – being quicker on my feet than her – yet I could see it bothered her that I was doing tasks that had originally been assigned to her. It's almost as though she thought she would get in trouble if someone walked in on me cleaning my own room. Eventually, I just shake my head and let her continue whatever she was doing.

"Morning, Ivy," Damian says to her, and she bows respectfully, showing her neck to him.

"Morning, Beta," she answers politely.

Damian scratches his neck awkwardly while looking at me as I try to suppress a growl. I know it also irritates him that she uses his title, especially since she will outrank him once she figures out that I am her mate. Shit, she will probably outrank me! I don't think I could deny her anything. However, the chances of her actually ever asking for anything, I am realizing, are very slim.

Damian drops his backpack on the ground by the door, and Ivy moves to pick it up. In response, I growl, and she jumps, not expecting it. "Leave it!" I tell her, my words coming off harsher than intended. I don't want her picking up after me, let alone anyone else. Her eyes immediately fell to the floor. I click my tongue and purse my lips before Damian's voice flits through my head as he mind-links me.

"I thought you two were on the same page?"he says.

"So did I, but she still insists on being my servant. She has been standing there for ten minutes now."

"But I could have sworn you were in the bath with her this morning."

"I was," I answer flatly, and his brows furrow.

"Did you have a fight?"

---