Page 60 of His Fierce Lycan Luna

“Like Azzy?” I ask her, and she nods, her eyes softening as she stares at him through her tears.

“More than my life,” she whispers. Tyson babbles, leaning down to gnaw at the candy cloud between her fingers as I step into the room. I lean down, brushing his hair with my fingers.

“And you’re more than mine,” I whisper, and she lifts her head. “More than my life and if he is part of yours. Then he is now mine also,” I tell her, and she blinks at me before swallowing. Her lips part, and she stares at me as if wondering if she heard me right.

“Come on, he needs a bath and he is clearly hungry,” I tell her, holding my hands out for him. She looks at my hands like she is wondering if it is some trick. I can see her hesitation written on her face.

“No one will ever take him from you, and I will kill anyone who dares try to take our son,” I tell her. She blinks back tears.

“You’re not leaving me,” she breathes out.

“Never!” I tell her, taking Tyson from her. I set him on my hip, offering my other hand to her. She slips hers in mine, and I pull her to her feet. Tugging her closer, I press my lips to her temple before walking out of the room with her and Tyson when I spot Liam smirking as he stands near the door of his room as we pass.

“I hear I am an Uncle brother?” he says, and I smile down at Tyson.

“That would be correct.”

“I will go make him some food while you get him settled then,” Liam says, and I nod, watching as Abbie pushes our door open and walks to the bathroom to run him a bath.

Chapter

Thirty-Two

KYSON

As we step into the room, Azalea growls as the fresh linen scent overwhelms her. Trey rushes into the room behind me, looking alert despite having not slept in two days.

“What is it?” Trey says behind me. I watch as Azalea moves toward the bed, sniffing the air.

“Nothing. Liam had Clarice clean everything in here. It smells wrong to her,” I tell him. Trey sighs. The only lingering scents are Gannon, Dustin’s, and Peter’s, who must have helped oversee everything because I forgot Gannon couldn’t come with us because of her command over him.

“Okay, as long as everything is alright.”

“Go to bed, Trey. Try to sleep before the sun comes up. She is safe with me,” I tell him. He nods and reluctantly leaves. I find his bond to her odd, but now trust him because I am seeing what an advantage we have with him being able to sense her so clearly.

Azalea growls, fixing her den as she destroys the sheets. She raids the closet, trying to find clothes with my scent, and I step inside behind her as she snatches stuff off the hangers.

Tears trek down her face as she sniffs each piece. They aren’t supposed to touch my stuff. I hoped they would have left a few pieces, knowing how savage she may become once her den was ruined. She tosses them down in frustration and rips more off the hanger, sniffing each one when I grab her arms.

“Hush, you don’t need my scent when you have me. We can fix it,” I tell her when she spins around, her eyes glowing, and she looks crazed. Her eyes run over me as she sniffs me and licks her lips. I groan in frustration. I like this suit too! When she looks me over from head to toe, I back away from her.

“Wait, Azzy. I will take them off, and I will climb in your den with you. Please don’t—” she pounces on me, cutting my words off as her claws slip out. I catch her, my arms slipping around her waist as her legs lock around my hips. I sigh.

Damn it.

Her claws rip at my clothes, and I purr, trying to calm her frantic instincts as I turn around and move toward the bed. My suit jacket she has claimed and my shirt as buttons go flying as she tears it to shreds. I love and hate seeing her like this. Hate how vulnerable she becomes in this state, all instinct, yet love seeing her go crazy over my scent, knowing that is what she seeks.

“I really liked that suit,” I mutter, placing her on the bed as her teeth sink into my chest. She licks me, and sparks explode across my skin. I press her into the clean linens earning a snarl as she lets me go and rolls, taking my clothes with her. She rearranges them in her den, duck feathers going everywhere as she rips a pillow apart.

“No, you have my shirt and jacket,” I tell her or what is left of them. She whimpers, the sound crushing as she stares at my pants.

“I will lie in your den until you’re satisfied, but the pants I am keeping,” I tell her, determined to keep them. She just shreddeda suit that cost me a damn fortune. Her bottom lip quivers. Damn pregnancy hormones are making her wild. I pull my belt out of the loops while cursing, slipping them down my legs and stepping out of them. I grab and hold them out to her, and she snatches them, rolling them into her den.

She won’t be satisfied. I know that. My scent is still faint in the sheets, why is my scent so faint still? I hate seeing her so distraught with instincts she barely understands.

She growls at me when I press my hands onto the bed. “Where do you want me, then?” I ask, not wanting to ruin her den until she has it the way she prefers. Her breathing becomes harsher. It is dangerous to go into a Lycan den or near a frantic pregnant Lycans den. You don’t touch or change it, especially scents not belonging to the mate. It’s their cocoon of safety, and other scents are intruders.

Azalea grips her hair in frustration. The moment I kneel into her den, instant regret hits me when I realize how not a speck of our scent is in here. Whoever polished and cleaned this room would hear about it. They know better, and this is now becoming a problem as she suddenly starts clawing and ripping at her clothes, her hair, the lack of our mingled scents and cloying scent of bleach I can smell radiating out of the bathroom is sending her mad.

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