Page 60 of His Found Lycan Luna

Ivy picks up her knife and starts cutting her meat, devouring her food hungrily. She shivers, her entire body shuddering from it. Her teeth are chattering, yet her skin is flushed like she is overheating. I reach over her, touching her head to find her skin blistering hot, and the moment my hand comes in contact with her skin, she sighs, pressing against it. Yet her scent hasn’t changed, so it couldn’t be her going into heat, her pheromones aren’t strong enough for it to be heat. I move my hand off her head, and she shivers again before going back to her food.

“Did you find Gannon?” she asks. I nod, watching her. She’s eating like she hasn’t been fed in weeks, and I remember I was the same way before I shifted.

“Yes, I did. What did you do today?” I ask her.

“Nothing, I couldn’t find Dustin, then I got distracted with the tablet and tried to read the book,” she says, shrugging. Ivy goes back to her food, only slowing down when she is nearly finished. She chews slowly, exceptionally slowly, and her face pales before she jumps up, running for the bathroom.

“Ivy?” I call, setting my plate aside when I hear her gag. Rushing into the bathroom, I find her head in the toilet bowl as she throws up.

“You alright?” I ask, grabbing her hair as she continues to be sick. She eventually falls backward on her butt.

“Must be the stupid fruit salad, been feeling sick since eating it,” she groans, clutching her stomach before laying on the cool tiles. I flush the toilet and move to turn the shower on.

“The fruit salad?” I ask.

“Yeah, I think some of the fruit is off; it tasted funny?”

I nod, gripping her shoulders and sitting her upright. “I don’t think it’s the fruit salad; I think you may be going to shift soon,” I tell her.

“I can’t shift; I would have already,” she murmurs.

“Well, I would say that is wrong; you are just a late bloomer since I hurt our bond,” I tell her, peeling off her sweater.

“I don’t want to shift; I don’t want to shift without Abbie!” she says, sitting upright. Her face threatens panic. I grip her shoulders, stopping her from getting to her feet.

“I am right here with you, Ivy,” I tell her, but she pushes my hands away.

“No, I want Abbie.”

I grit my teeth and look away. It hurts me deeply to know she’d rather be with Abbie, but I can’t blame her. Taking a deep breath and willing myself to remain calm, I face her, cupping her face in my hands. “Abbie isn’t here, but I am. So calm down. You won’t be alone,” I tell her, but her eyes brim with tears as she starts hyperventilating, evidently experiencing another panic attack. Her breathing turns rapid and shallow.

“No, no,” she shakes her head.

“Shh Ivy, calm down. Let’s just get you in the shower first,” I tell her, but every time I go to remove more of her clothes, she slaps my hands and tells me not to touch her.

Unclipping her bra, she growls at me. “Get out!” she snaps.

“Ivy?”

“Get out, this is your fault, now get out!” she screams at me. Her eyes blaze brightly, almost glowing as she continues to panic. I chew the inside of my lip, knowing it is just the shift bringing on her sudden change in emotions. It truly brings out our monstrous side. Yet I can feel her resentment toward me and hurt that I am the reason she is delayed.

Chapter Forty-Five

“Iwon’t touch you then, okay, but I am staying. You’re not shifting on your own,” I tell her, fighting the urge to stifle her worry by using the bond and calling. She looks away from me.

“I said get out,” she whispers, wiping a stray tear. My heart pinches at her defeat and I know she blames me for this; I blame myself.

“I will find you some clothes,” I tell her, getting up off the floor and creeping out. I find her some of my clothes and set them on the bed before standing by the bathroom door and listening.

I am only met with silence except for the sound of running water. I knock on the door, but she doesn’t answer.

“Ivy, I am going to come in, okay,” I call out to her. “I need to make sure you’re safe.” I wait, but she doesn’t answer, so I gently push the door open to find her clothes scattered on the floor and her sitting in the bottom of the shower directly under the water. Her skin looks red from how hot she has turned up the shower temperature.

“Ivy?” I ask, crouching beside her just outside the shower spray. She turns her head to the side, and I notice her eyes glowing. Whycouldn’t her shift wait one more day so I could explain? Now is probably the worst time to tell her something that will no doubt make her feel more emotional than she already is. The best I can do is walk her through the changes so she feels less scared.

“It’s so cold,” she murmurs, and I nod.

“Yes, then you will be hot, then cold again,” I tell her, and she nods, tucking her face back into her knees. I stare at the window, click my tongue, and shake my head. There is no moon high in the sky tonight.

---