Page 43 of His Found Lycan Luna

He seems perplexed at my reaction. He tilts his head to the side, observing me, but I pay him no mind. I stumble over my own feet as I climb off the bed before rushing to the bathroom.

Emerging from the bathroom, my gaze is immediately drawn to the handcuffs in his hand as he stands waiting by the door. My heart rate quickens, anxiety coursing through my veins, as he observes me with a tilted head. His fingers graze his chin in contemplation.

“Come here,” he murmurs, and I take a step back, shaking my head, my gaze darts to the handcuffs. He takes a calculated step toward me.

“I thought you weren’t scared of me,” he muses, raising the handcuffs as if they are a symbol of fear. My heart lurches in my chest, pounding relentlessly. He studies me for a moment before shifting his gaze to the handcuffs.

“But these are what scare you?” he questions, frustration etching lines on his face. He sighs and runs a hand down his tired features, biting his lip as he ponders. Meanwhile, I stand frozen in place, shifting my weight nervously from one foot to the other, bracing myself for the inevitable moment when he will force the cuffs back onto my wrists.

“Do I need these?” he asks me, he watches me intently and I swallow the lump forming in my throat.

“If you try to escape again,” he warns, his voice laced with a dangerous edge as he steps closer. “I will lock you in the cells beneath the castle, or perhaps I’ll resort to using these again,” he states.

“Am I understood?” he asks, and I bite down on my lip.

“Ivy!” he growls when I don’t answer him. Tears burn my eyes, and I nod in reluctant understanding, aware of the consequences that await any further attempts at defiance. He curses under his breath, shaking his head then tosses the handcuffs onto the bed.

“One chance, Ivy,” he states firmly. “Don’t ruin it. I don’t take pleasure in punishing you.” His words hang in the air like an unspoken promise, though lately it seems that punishment has become an all too frequent occurrence.

“Then don’t give me a reason to,” I whisper defiantly. He glances over at me, a low growl escaping his throat. He storms toward me, reaching forward and gripping my wrist tightly. In one swift motion, he yanks me toward him, pinning me beneath his weight on the bed. The suddenness of his movements leaves me breathless, caught off guard and vulnerable.

“You can be a stubborn little thing,” he growls, a trace of frustration evident in his voice. The calling surges through my veins, his proximity drawing out an instinctual response within me that I am beginning to despise. His hands lock around my wrists, pulling them above my head and holding them captive with a strength that leaves me powerless underneath him. His chest presses against mine, the vibration reverberating through my entire body, the clash between desire and anger intensifying as he uses the calling.

His nose trails along my cheek, inhaling my scent before pausing near my ear. “You can fight me all you want, Ivy,” he purrs, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine. “But I possess something you don’t.” His tongue grazes the seam of my lips, eliciting a moan from deep within me. My body betrays me, succumbing to his touch even as tears threaten to spill from my eyes.

“I don’t want to force you,” he whispers against my lips, his voicelaced with a hint of desperation. “I’ve told you this before. I don’t want to become that kind of monster.”

He thrust his hips against my barely clothed body, the pressure causing another moan to escape my lips, mingling with the whirlwind of conflicting emotions inside me. I know if he desires it, he can use the calling to make me submit completely, to surrender myself entirely to him.

“See, Ivy,” he growls, an edge of control in his voice. “I have power over you. Don’t make me abuse it. I don’t want that, and I know you don’t, either.” With those words, he abruptly withdraws, the overwhelming sensation vanishing as quickly as it had appeared leaving me feeling suddenly cold.

“Tread carefully, Ivy. You don’t want me to snap,” he growls before rolling off me.

The moment he does, my entire body shudders like it’s going through withdrawals. It takes everything in me not to throw myself at him and rub myself on him, needing his skin, wanting to bite him. He smirks knowing the war he has caused inside me before his face falls when I don’t give in to the urges, my anger at him overshadowing them, and I grit my teeth.

“You’re fighting it,” he snarls, his voice dripping with frustration and impatience and he grips my face with his fingers. His eyes bore into mine, searching for any sign of surrender.

“You would rather be in pain?” he asks, his tone laced with a mix of concern and anger. His brows furrow as he waits for my response.

“I used to love it when you did that. Now, you just make me hate it because you’re taking my choice,” I tell him, my words tinged with bitterness. He lets me go. The weight of broken promises hangs heavily in the air between us. “You promised I would have a choice. But you never meant it, did you?”

He looks away from me, his gaze fixed on some distant point in the room. I catch a glimpse of his throat bobbing as he swallows, a flicker of guilt crossing his features before he masks it.

“You’ve given me no choice. You want to make choices. Thendon’t make me take them,” he pleads, his voice tinged with desperation. “Stop fighting the bond and you don’t run from me again.”

A bitter laugh escapes my lips, laced with a tinge of disbelief. “You’re a hypocrite,” I spit out, the words dripping with venom. “You say don’t fight it or deny the bond, but you broke mine. You had no issues breaking me. I won’t allow you to do it a second time.”

My anger boils over, my voice rising in volume until it fills the room, leaving me breathless. He seems taken aback by my outburst, his eyes widening momentarily before he regains his composure. Without saying another word, he gets up from his seat and storms toward the door, his steps heavy with frustration.

“You try to leave this room before I say, and you will find yourself in the cold confines of the cells,” he snaps, his voice sharp and cutting.

With one final glare in my direction, he stalks out and slams the door behind him, the sound reverberating through the room like a gunshot. I jump at the sudden noise, the bond between us flaring to life, tugging at my very core, urging me to chase after him.

It takes me days, endless nights of torment, for the bond to ease its grip and allow me to breathe again. But it takes him only seconds to force it back, to tighten its chains around my heart. One bite, one act of dominance, and he is destroying me all over again.

Only now, in the aftermath of our heated exchange, do I recognize the signs, the insidious influence he has over me. The twisted way the bond works against me, stripping away my autonomy. It isn’t fair, and with Abbie gone, I fear I may not survive the relentless push and pull of this bond, the agony of losing it once more, if he so chooses.

Yet, despite the overwhelming despair that threatens to consume me. One thing has become startlingly obvious: he is fighting the bond just as fiercely as I am. He may have the calling, and the power that comes with it, but I am not entirely powerless. I have this bond, this connection that binds us together. And if he wants to break me,to shatter every piece of my being, then I will make sure he breaks, too.

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