Page 72 of His Lost Lycan Luna

"Never, my King. We just worry about our King and future Queen’s safety in this hotel… too many people and too many hiding spots; and with the anniversary tomorrow, we want to keep moving," Damian answers.

"The driver?" I ask.

"Also ready to go," he replies and I nod.

"Give me an hour," I answer, glancing at the clock. It's a little after 2 am. My head turns back to them; they're both getting to their feet.

"I want to heal her first; at least then she may sleep in the car."

"Do you want me to stay?" Damian asks. I glance at Ivy before looking back at him.

"Won't be necessary," I tell him. He nods and both of them take their leave. Placing the glass down, I strip off my shorts before shifting. I twist and crack my neck as my bones readjust and snap swiftly with my shift. My vision and sense of smell adjust, my senses intensifying as I walk toward the bed and climb onto it.

Ivy’s back is rising and falling as she breathes in and out, and I gently tug the blankets off her. My claws slice through the thin sheets as I peel them away.

Ivy moves in her sleep, and goosebumps rise on her delicate skin, now exposed to the night air. I sniff the back of her neck while my clawed hand trails up her side, and she stirs. I don't want her to wake startled, so I move slowly as I bury my face in her neck, inhaling her scent.

She continues to stir, and I can feel the orgasmic tingling sensation that contact with her skin causes to rush over my hands. Something stirs within me as I watch her—some desire to claim what belongs to me—and before I can stop myself, I nip her.

She jumps in her sleep, then tenses, freezing. Her senses warn her a predator is near, something more dangerous than her. I hear her heart thumping in her chest like a hummingbird's wings. So I run my tongue over my bite, licking up the blood that trails down her shoulder blade.

"Kyson?" Her voice is barely a whisper, and I press my nose against her cheek. She trembles beneath me as I push my chest to her back and start purring. Her tremors stop, and she sighs as I press my weight against her.

"You're safe with me, always," I purr, releasing her from my calling. She remains still, and I can tell she is scared, but it shows she trusts me enough not to hurt her when she doesn't try to escape me.

I sniff her neck, and when she turns her face slightly, I press my nose against hers. Her giggle makes me chuckle, then lick her lips.

"That was gross, like a dog's tongue," she chuckles.

"Well then, I guess I am your pet," I snicker. I lift my weight slightly off her and she rolls beneath me, looking up at me curiously, warily.

Her hands move shakily to my face before her thumb runs over one of my teeth. She jerks her hand away when it slices the pad of her thumb and she sucks on it.

"What did you expect? For them not to be sharp?" I chuckle.

She pulls her thumb from her mouth and examines the slice. I quickly lick it, letting her watch it heal. She seems in awe as she studies the now non-existent cut.

"How?" she mutters. I don't answer, not wanting to tell her it's because I am her mate. I want that to be a surprise for her to find out on her own.

"Roll over," I whisper to her, and her eyes dart to mine. She sucks in a breath, and I nudge her.

ChapterForty-Three

IVY

Kyson hovers above me. Despite staring right into the eyes of the true Lycan King, despite his weight pressing down on me and his scary exterior, I somehow know he would never harm me.

His hands are gentle, and his tone of voice is calm, though also sounds rougher; it reassures everything in me that made me fear him. My life could end at any time, but I don't fear death from the man-turned-beast above me.

No, I can't see myself ever fearing him; I know it's because he doesn't want me to. He allows me to have that trust in him because he could ideally end me.

Some instinctual part of me calls out to him, to ruin or to love, yet the tenderness of his touch assures me it is just that: tenderness and love. It seems impossible to feel so much for someone after such a short time, or maybe I am naïve in thinking it is love and I'm not merely an object to him.

Yet he calms my anxiety, and the content feeling of finally being home when around him made me roll onto my stomach when he asked.

King Kyson is home. In whatever way I could have him, I want him. Whether it's at his feet or by his side, I would take it. Home is something I had never felt. Even with my parents, it never existed.

A sense of safety and belonging was never felt with them, either. I am a stranger to my own existence and place in this world.

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