Page 36 of His Loved Lycan Luna

“I need to go. Not a word,” I tell him, clutching the handrail as I head for my office.

Chapter Twenty-Five

My body groans in protest as I shift onto my back, the dull ache spreading through my limbs. My memory, like a grainy photograph, leaves me slightly confused. Wasn’t I in the throes of heat just moments ago? Yet now, inexplicably, I feel perfectly fine and well-rested, devoid of any telltale signs of a feverish temperature. I had been in pain and discomfort so long that relief feels strange.

However, rolling over, I find the bed empty, making me get up.

Casting a quick glance around the room, I search for any trace of Kyson’s presence. Spotting the closet, I shuffle toward it, my footsteps muffled by the plush carpet beneath my feet. Inside, a limited selection of clothes awaits me, remnants of my tendency to shred them during my restless episodes. Most of them are Kyson’s, but I remember he started keeping a stash in his office, away from the destructive reach of my claws. A bemused chuckle escapes my lips at the thought of him safeguarding his clothes against my unpredictable nesting habits. Such a bizarre thing to do, making me realize how little I know about being a Lycan.

I meander around the room, trying to wake up before hunting down Kyson when I notice my tablet. I pick it up to check the time before noticing Kyson’s phone nearby. I furrow my brows. I recall Abbie’s promise to call back last night. Or was it still the same day? The boundaries of time have blurred for me lately, days blending into nights and vice versa with disorienting regularity.

I unlock his phone but notice he has no notifications on it or messages, not that I could read those anyway without typing them into my tablet. I toss the phone on the bed and head for the bathroom with a shake of my head. Eager to see Kyson, I shower quickly, so I can try to convince him to take me to visit Abbie.

When I get out of the shower, I towel dry my hair, not wanting to use the hairdryer because my hearing is super sensitive right now.

Even now, every sound seems amplified, from the flickering of lights to the gentle rustle of curtains caressed by a passing breeze. My senses, already acute, seem to have reached an unprecedented level of intensity.

Slipping on a pair of comfortable flats, I turn the doorknob and step into the dimly lit corridor. There, leaning against the wall, yawning and rubbing his tired eyes, is Dustin. A small chuckle escapes my lips as I take in his disheveled appearance.

“You look exhausted,” I remark, causing Dustin’s eyes to snap open and his posture to straighten.

“Good morning, My Que—” he begins, but I raise an eyebrow, cutting him off before he can finish.

“Azalea,” he corrects himself. It was stupid.

It’s rather silly how he tries to maintain formality when he follows me around like a faithful shadow. I’d like to think of him as more than just a duty-bound friend. He’s seen me at my worst.

“Do you know where the king is?” I ask him, and he yawns again.

“I will take her,” Trey says, appearing seemingly out of nowhere, and Dustin glances at him. I hadn’t even noticed himstanding there.

“Why are you here?” Dustin questions, a touch of confusion lacing his words. “It’s not your shift today.”

“Damian instructed me to relieve you. I don’t mind taking over your duties,” Trey responds, shrugging his shoulders. My gaze shifts between the two men, realizing Dustin has covered Trey’s shift multiple times. Has Dustin been working tirelessly for the past three shifts? That’s nearly forty hours without rest.

Dustin shakes his head and waves him off. “I am fine. You can go.” Dustin tells him, waving him off.

“No, Dustin, you really should get some sleep,” I interject, concern lacing my voice as I take in his exhausted appearance. His well-being matters to me; after all, he’s more than just a guard, he’s my friend.

“I’m fine, Azalea. The king is in his office, but I wouldn’t advise going down there. He’s in one of his moods,” Dustin informs me with a hint of exasperation. But when isn’t he in a mood? I can’t help but wonder if it’s just his personality rather than a temporary state of mind.

“You said Damian is back?” I ask Trey, and he nods.

“Go and rest, Dustin. Trey will accompany me to see the king,” I insist, squeezing his arm gently as I pass by him. However, just as I’m about to join Trey, Dustin grips my arm, causing me to give him a puzzled look. With a sigh, he speaks up.

“It’s fine. I’ll take you myself. You’re dismissed, Trey. Your presence isn’t required here,” Dustin asserts firmly, his voice tinged with authority. Trey growls, shaking his head in disagreement.

“But…”

“I am her personal guard, and I dismissed you. Now go!” Dustin’s voice snaps with authority, his eyes filled with a steely determination. Trey growls in response, a low rumble that echoes through the tense air. He shakes his head in frustration, his lips curling into a snarl.

“Trying to help, gee,” he mutters under his breath before stomping off, the sound of his retreating footsteps fading into the distance.

Turning my attention to Dustin, I see a mixture of anger and concern etched on his face as he watches Trey leave. His gaze follows the disgruntled figure until he disappears.

“Hey, what’s got into you?” I inquire, with curiosity and worry. Dustin shakes his head slightly, his fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on my shoulder as he drapes his arm over it, pulling me closer to him.

“Something’s off about him,” Dustin responds. “I haven’t liked him since he came here eight years ago; he rubs me the wrong way.” He lets out a sigh, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “However, he took a bullet for the king about six years back, earning a spot on the Royal Guard. Damian put him on personal guard duties alongside me; he is trusted.” Dustin’s words hang in the air, leaving an unsettled feeling in their wake. “I don’t trust him, though; a few things don’t add up for me.”

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