Page 33 of His Loved Lycan Luna

“Stop! Even if you’re my mate, it’s still rape. And I will never forgive you,” I spit at him, defiance burning in my eyes. A whimper escapes his lips, a sound I have never heard before. His tongue traces a path along my neck, and he breathes heavily before burying his face against my skin.

“I would never,” he growls, genuine hurt evident in his voice as I turn my head to look at him. Kyson’s distress over my accusation strikes a chord within me.

“Then get off me,” I retort, and his eyes flicker, his body tensing as he fights against the urge to shift. Jet-black fur begins to sprout along his arms, his skin rippling as he fights the urge to shift. His hardened length presses against me, sending a tingling sensation through my entire body, and my arousal coats my thighs.

“Get off me, Kyson!” I snap when he hesitates. With a reluctant sigh, he rolls off me, only to pull me on top of him. I push against his chest, desperate to create distance between us.

“Stop! If you refuse to mate with me, at least try to ease your own discomfort. Your heat affects me too, Azalea,” he snarls, holding me firmly against him. I squirm and wriggle in an attempt to break free, but he is far stronger than me, his arms acting as restraints. After a brief struggle, I give in and relax against his warm skin, allowing it to offer some relief from the relentless agony coursing through me.

The heat subsides slightly, beads of sweat still clinging to my skin as the fever consumes me. It feels as if my very flesh is scorching hot, while my insides boil like a bubbling cauldron. A sigh escapes me as Kyson’s hand trails up and down my spine, the mere contact causing my temperature to drop ever so slightly.

“We’ll see Abbie on the weekend, I promise. I’ll take you to her, Azalea. Please,” Kyson pleads, his voice filled with genuine concern.

“Not until she’s here. Go get Abbie,” I murmur, licking his skin before quickly realizing what I am doing and clenching my jaw.

“I’m busy. The weekend isn’t far away,” Kyson purrs, burying his nose in my hair as he inhales my scent.

“Then send Gannon!” I plead, knowing Gannon will drop everything to come to her aid.

“Gannon is occupied with another matter; he won’t be available for quite some time. I’ll contact him as soon as he returns,” Kyson states matter-of-factly.

“What about Damian?” I ask, grasping at any possible solution.

“I need Damian here with me,” Kyson says simply, and I curse under my breath.

“You won’t be able to fight the heat for long, Azalea. Just give in. It is pointless. You will mate me, so give in! It doesn’t just make you uncomfortable!” he growls, gripping my hips and rubbing my pussy along his raging hard-on. I moan at the feel of his cock gliding through my wet folds but still, I refuse, shaking my head and earning a growl from him.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Azalea is so damn stubborn, her defiance pulsating through the bond that connects us. I feel her agony, every ripple of pain amplifying my own. Pressing my skin against hers offers a modicum of relief, but it’s fleeting. With each passing moment she denies us both my patience wears thin, festering into frustration.

The waves of her heat crash against me, causing my muscles to tense involuntarily. I clench my teeth, fighting the urge to sink my canines into her flesh, forcing her to submit. She demands Abbie’s return, oblivious to the fact that Abbie appeared perfectly fine—excitable and true to her usual self.

As the king, I bear the weight of consequences far greater than Azalea can comprehend. She is thinking like a child, desperate to see her best friend. But there are complexities she fails to grasp, such as the pact I have forged as the ruling monarch. She believes it’s as simple as issuing commands to our kind, but the reality is more complex. I’m bound by obligation to provide the five founding council members with my blood each year, rendering them immune to my control and my command.

Lycan blood in itself holds power, extending lifespans well beyond their natural limits. But a king’s blood? I can’t command them even if I wanted to.

Azalea has tasted traces of my blood when biting me, and during those moments, she grows stronger, defying my attempts to rein her in. However, the council members have been consuming my blood for years, rendering them immune to my commands. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but a necessary one. What good are laws if the one who created them doesn’t abide by them? It’s what makes me a fair and just ruler.

Impactful decisions require input from all parties involved; I can’t direct and enact laws without considering the council’s perspective. They are immortal beings, advising and guiding alongside me for centuries, thanks to the immortal blood coursing through their veins.

This system is precisely why some packs have chosen to assist the hunters. They find it unfair that one individual possesses such absolute authority over all Lycan packs. If I were a tyrant, I could command them to take their own lives, and they would obey without hesitation. By having a council that can hold me accountable for any wrongdoing, we establish a balance of power. Consequently, only a handful of packs now side with the hunters in their quest to eradicate Lycans. The system was put in place shortly after my sister’s death to ease tensions among the packs.

Now, though, I regret that pact, as Azalea perceives me as nothing more than a jerk for denying her. Little does she realize the consequences for someone of my status defying the werewolf community go far beyond those faced by an ordinary wolf. They would come for me swiftly and relentlessly. Until Abbie explicitly instructs me to retrieve her, my hands are tied, and unfortunately, I can’t solely rely on Azalea’s gut feeling.

Eventually, she will understand once she encounters the council. Until then, I will have to endure her tantrums and her wrath.

Another intense wave of heat washes over Azalea, causing herbody to tense against mine. Beads of sweat form on my skin where she lies atop me, her scorching heat growing more unbearable with each passing moment. She is burning herself from the inside out. Her teeth sink into my chest, her claws digging into my sides as she writhes, her bare pussy rubbing against my pulsating length, eliciting a deep groan from me. My blood surges hotter, and I instinctively grip her hips, grinding her against me. Azalea moans, but then her claws dig deeper into my flesh.

“No!” she growls.

“Azalea, your temperature is dangerously high. Lycan women can die if they don’t mate during heat!” I snarl, my frustration seeping into my voice.

“Then bring Abbie home!” she retorts, attempting to roll off me. The scream that tears from her throat as her skin leaves mine sends chills down my spine. Dustin’s voice immediately echoes in my mind, responding to that soul-shattering sound.

“My King?” he calls through the door.

“Fetch the pack doctor,” I snap at him. I can’t afford to let Azalea continue like this for much longer; it will jeopardize her life. How she resists succumbing to the instinctual urge to mate in this state baffles me. I have never heard of a Lycan female enduring such prolonged heat without giving in. Her stubbornness will be the death of her.

---