Page 23 of His Fierce Lycan Luna

Azalea’s reaction is swift and feral; a low growl vibrates from her throat, resonating with a challenge that defied her outward calm. “I asked you a question?” Kyson’s voice holds an edge of annoyance.

Without missing a beat, Azalea’s retort slices through the tension. “I asked you one too! I got my answer. Here’s yours,” she declares, words laced with a mix of defiance and dismissal. She spins on her heel, the fabric of her dress whispering against the stone steps as she continues her descent, tugging me with her.

At the bottom of the staircase, she pauses just long enough to shoot Kyson a piercing look.

Liam’s chuckle slices through the thickening silence, a sharp note of amusement that seems out of place against the backdrop of the King’s anger. “Trouble in paradise, my King,” he says, his voice carrying the smoothness of a smirk I can’t see but could very well imagine.

I side-eye him briefly, wondering if madness was a trait that ran deep in his bloodline, or if he considered it more of a personal achievement. There is no doubt in my mind about his precarious grip on sanity.

“Shut up, Liam,” Kyson snaps, his anger escalating as Azalea continues to ignore him. It’s evident he craves her attention. Liam steps in front of Kyson, halting Azalea with an outstretched hand. Kyson growls, a display of the unspoken pact they share to prioritize her over the King. This loyalty extends even to interactions with Azalea—a fact that surprises me.

Gannon swiftly intervenes, placing a calming hand on Kyson’s shoulder. Tension fills the air as Kyson glares at Gannon before relenting with a sigh. His gaze shifts to Azalea, who meets his stare with a raised eyebrow.

“It was a simple question, Azalea. I just wanted to know where you are going, so I can ensure you have proper guards,” the King states wearily, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Can’t know all my secrets now, can you?” she retorts before striding away. I follow her closely, pondering if her words relate to Gannon’s recent revelations.

“Where are you going?” I inquire as I catch up and link my arm through hers.

“Wherever you are going,” she teases lightly. Her response puzzles me since she rarely ventures anywhere without his say so.

“Liam, you’re with me and Trey. Gannon is now watching the girls with Dustin,” Kyson announces as he descends the steps. The King heads in the opposite direction while Liam grumbles and growls behind us, drawing our attention back.

Gannon approaches us with a mischievous grin. “Great! See what your defiance gets me, my Queen. I have to hang out all day with his grumpy ass and ferret face fucker,” Liam taunts playfully as Dustin struggles to maintain his composure.

“Liam! Now!” The King’s voice booms as he strides away.

“I’m coming! You royal pain in my fanny,” Liam calls out before hurrying after him. Azalea shakes her head at Liam’s antics while Dustin resumes his position by her side and Gannon trails along behind us.

Chapter

Sixteen

ABBIE

The scent of fresh bread and the chorus of clattering utensils welcome us, a stark contrast to the tension I just witnessed between Azalea and Kyson. .

“So what’s up with you and the King?” I venture, my voice barely rising above the domestic symphony as I glance sideways at her. Her gaze has a faraway quality, one that hints at inner turmoil and whispers conspiracies.

“Nothing.” She flicks a dismissive hand, but her eyes, churning with unsaid emotions, tell a different story.

“I just think he is hiding stuff. No. I know he is hiding stuff.” Her shrug tries to convey indifference, but it is a poor mask for the frustration lacing her tone.

“I asked him about the council and what happened the other day, and he never answered,” she admits, her voice dipping into the well of secrets that seems to pool between them.

I watch her closely, noting how her fingers trail along the countertop, skimming over the cool marble as if searching for answers on its smooth surface. There is a determination set in the line of her jaw. Whatever walls the King puts up, I know she will scale them, stone by unforgiving stone.

Oliver and Logan were sitting at the bench, chopping pancakes. I watch as Azalea affectionately messes up Oliver’s hair before eating a berry he holds up for her.

“Clarice is hanging washing,” Logan tells us. I smile down at them, while Gannon goes over to help Oliver use a butter knife to cut his pancakes up that he had been sawing at. Azalea looks in the fridge before pulling out some orange juice. She grabs some glasses when Dustin clears his throat. She looks at him over the fridge door.

“Your smoothie,” Dustin says.

“I got juice,” she says, holding it up and Dustin points to the blender. Azalea rolls her eyes, walking over to it. She grabs the jug before pouring the contents down the sink.

“My Queen, you know he commanded me to let him know what you are eating.”

She pours her juice, uncaring.

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