Page 20 of His Found Lycan Luna

“He had her near the castle,” I snap, my words laced with venom.

Clarice sighs heavily, her disappointment palpable.

Why the heck is everyone taking her side? She isn’t even the queen! I haven’t marked her. Have they forgotten Claire already?

“She is picking oranges, Kyson,” Clarice tries to reason, but my glare turns to fix on Ivy. However, when I turn to confront her, I find she’s already gone. Damian curses under his breath and moves to chase after her, but my growl halts him in his tracks.

“No, Gannon can watch her. We need to go over the rogue murders and the information Kade gave us,” I command, my voice leaving no room for argument.

Damian freezes, his frustration with me reaching a boiling point. “Was it necessary to be such a prick? She’s having a hard enough time as it is, and you just keep hurting her. You’re digging yourself a grave, Kyson. You’re risking everything!” he yells.

“No, her mother ruined everything,” I counter coldly.

“Exactly, her mother, not her. But still, you punish her for it, punish yourself,” Damian retorts.

“I am not punishing myself,” I snarl, but the words ring hollow even to my ears because I’ve felt nothing but agony without her. Yet she does not deserve my love.

“Really? Then how do you explain getting so fucking drunk that you lost control last night?” Damian challenges.

I growl, ignoring him and storming inside the castle, trying to escape Damian’s accusations. The kitchen staff scatter as I enter, sensing my foul mood, and I keep moving toward the foyer.

“Are you seriously going to continue ignoring the bond? This is your only chance at having a mate, but you can’t see past your hate,” Damian continues.

“Damian, enough. I have a headache,” I snap, heading toward my office.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of Ivy walking across the lawns. Through the windows, Peter chases after her before stopping her. I watch her for a second as she talks to Peter. She looks longingly at the castle, making a pang of guilt wash over me. Peter wanders off, leaving her alone, her figure deflated in defeat, while Peter looks at her with worry. She has everyone convinced she is not a monster, but I know otherwise.

“Can you at least fucking try to talk to her? She frets without you,” Damian’s voice rings in my ears and he grabs my arm. I snarl, but he doesn’t back off when Gannon opens the foyer doors and steps inside.

“You can still fix things, it’s not too late, Kyson,” Damian pleads but I shake my head.

Ignoring him, I brush past Gannon, who steps into my path witha glare. “What’s happened now? What did you do?” he instantly accuses me.

I’m at the end of my tether. Do they have any idea how it feels knowing you’re housing a monster’s daughter? They all witnessed what Marissa did, yet they expect me to accept her daughter with open arms.

“Everyone, patrol now!” I scream, my patience worn out. My command erupts violently and Gannon gasps clutching the wall as he fights to remain where he is.

Damian resists, straining against my command. “Remove the command,” he grits out. I hate commanding them, they know it, and guilt hits me for it, but I won’t back down. They need to let me get my head straight and come to terms with this; she is not the only one grieving the bond.

“No, I’m sick and tired of hearing about her, sick of you telling me how to handle my mate when YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND,” I snarl back, watching as Gannon, unable to resist any longer, rushes out the door.

“You’d leave her defenseless,” Damian accuses.

“She has Dustin,” I snap before storming off.

“Dustin, you ordered him to go into town for you with Liam earlier. It’s nearly dark, Kyson!” Damian shouts at me, but I ignore him, and keep walking, only to hear his body smash against the door, unable to resist my command any longer.

In my office, I reach for my bottle of liquor, immediately chugging half of it in an attempt to drown out the bond that’s gnawing at me. Time slips away as I sit there, consumed by thoughts of Ivy, of Claire, and the state I found her in. It all rushes back, the guilt of leaving that day, her last words replay in my mind on a loop that morning, I didn’t want to go. Why did she make me leave? She would probably still be here if I’d stayed.

Some time later, Clarice enters, her disappointment evident. “If you’re here to scold me, don’t,” I warn her.

“Just collecting your tray,” she responds, her tone tired. But I cantell she is holding her tongue. She wants to speak but also knows her place. Little does she know, it’s not her words I fear. It’s breaking her heart. Clarice knows me better than anyone here, she helped raise me, raise Claire, more than my parents ever did.

I glance at the clock, realizing hours have passed. Clarice sighs and picks up the tray. “You, too. Why do I bother cooking for you if you don’t bother eating it,” she mutters with a shake of her head.

“Did you remember to send food down for—” I stop mid-sentence, the guilt unbearable.

“For your queen?” Clarice finishes for me, her eyes holding a mixture of pity and reproach. “I left it for her, but she never touched it. Abbie tried to get her to eat, but she refused, said she wasn’t hungry,” she informs me.

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