Page 50 of His Found Lycan Luna

With so many thoughts running through my head, I struggle to sleep. Eventually, I am sucked into the oblivion of rest only to wake up to realize Ivy has shut the alarm off. Squinting at the brightness in the room, it must be late in the morning, and I sit up in a panic looking for her.

“Ivy?” I sing out, tossing the blanket back and heading for the bathroom. She isn’t in there and I rip open the closet checking her den. Also not there.

She isn’t in the room. With a growl, I search all the adjacent rooms before leaving it entirely, furious that she left it without telling me.

“Where is Ivy?” I ask the guard by the doors leading out.

“I haven’t seen her, My King; I thought she was in her room with you; I only just came on shift,” he answers.

I shake my head. How had she managed to slip past the guards once again?

“Find her,” I snarl, and everyone in the corridors scatters taking off in search of her. I push out the front doors spotting Peter.

“Peter!” I call, seeing him come toward me up the path from the stables. He glances at me before looking away at my state of undress; I had my sleep shorts on, yet my chest is bare.

“Where is Ivy?” I demand and he turns pointing back the way he came.

“She’s helping me in the stables,” he says, and I growl, which makes him run off as I stalk toward the path fuming when panic rushes through the bond, and I start running.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

The morning light filtering in through the drapes wakes me up early. Kyson is snoring softly beside me, and I sit up, he stirs in his sleep rolling toward me, and I hold my breath. His heavy arm draped over my waist makes me glance down, and I quietly and slowly slip out from beneath the blanket and his arm.

Moving around the room, I find some clothes when his alarm sounds, my heart races as I run toward his phone, my fingers tapping the screen trying to shut it off.

I suck in a breath when the loud beeping stops, and my gaze darts to him on the bed. He has rolled but is thankfully still asleep. Setting the phone down, I carefully slip out the door before he can lock me away in the room with him. I’m sick of being cooped up inside all the time, it is driving me insane. How does he not see that his actions are driving me to the brink of insanity, his mood swings not helping in the slightest.

I am excited at the prospect of having a morning to myself, perhaps helping Clarice in the kitchens. I make my way down to the kitchens when Peter enters and stops bythe counters. He keeps shoving his fringe out of his green eyes as he wanders into the kitchens.

“Clarice, is Gannon or Dustin around? I need help moving the barrels from the shed into the barn.”

“Barrels?” Clarice asks questionably, entering the room, and Peter sighs.

“Yeah, the empty wine barrels. Jamie wants me to cut them in half so he can make garden beds out of them, but I need to cut them and paint them first,” he says with a huff, clearly not liking being given extra chores by the gardener.

“Do it in the shed,” Clarice tells him with a shrug.

“Can’t, there is not enough room; it’s full of the furniture from the east wing,” he whines.

“Well, you will have to go look for them. I have no idea where either of them?—”

“I can help,” I offer, cutting her off. Being outside sounded great, and Clarice hardly let me do anything to help besides peel potatoes, saying I shouldn’t even be helping. However, with Abbie gone, I am constantly bored, and I still haven’t forgiven the king for marking me or healing me while I slept. I also hate that he used the calling on me to force me to submit the other night.

“The king will pitch a fit if he finds you in the stables working,” Clarice says.

“Let him, I am helping Peter,” I tell her, and Peter’s eyes light up at the offer of help.

“Ivy, he will lose his mind if you get hurt,” Clarice says, grabbing my hand gently.

“It’s fine, Clarice; I will deal with the king if needed,” I growl, grabbing Peter’s arm and tugging him out the door.

“Are you sure, My Queen? I don’t want you to get in trouble,” Peter asks nervously as he sucks his lip between his teeth.

“Yes, I want to go outside, anyway, I’m sick of watching people work and not letting me help,” I tell him, dragging him through the castle. I know the king is still asleep, so I don’t have to worryabout him sending someone to look for me for a few hours, anyway.

A few hours pass, and we manage to create enough room to drag the old wine barrels out, then we restack the shed, making it more accessible in the future. I watch as Peter cuts the wine barrels with a chainsaw by the stables. Peter won’t let me try because he is too worried the king will be angry if he finds out, so I just watch. He does, however, let me help paint them.

When we finish, Peter heads up to see the gardener so he can let him know we are just waiting for the paint to dry when I hear a loud squawking, which causes me to look toward the pier that extends over the lake from the stables.

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