Page 95 of Mated to the Kings

“Can you go get Dad?” I ask Kael. He gives me a strange look but walks away to find him.

“Something is wrong.”

“It would be nice if you’d be more specific,” I say in a hushed tone.

“Maybe you are going crazy,” Daemon chuckles and walks over. “What’s going on?”

“I think it’s Thuly’s voice,” I say. Thuly wiggles his body and licks my face, letting out a chirp as if affirming my statement.

“What’s up? Are you okay?” Dad asks.

“Can Thuly communicate?” I ask.

“Yeah, when they want to. Why?” he asks.

“I think he keeps telling me something is wrong. It’s a voice in my head like how I mindlink with the guys, but it’s not them,” I explain.

“Show us what’s wrong, Thuly,” Dad says.

Thuly hops up and darts out of the room. We run after him, and we see that he is sitting with the rest of the group. “What does that mean?” I ask, incredibly confused.

“Something is wrong,” Thuly says, and I sigh.

“He just keeps saying something is wrong,” I tell Dad and the guys.

“Well… He senses when you are in danger, right?” Callum asks, and I nod.

“Then it must mean that there is someone here he doesn’t trust, but he can’t figure out who,” Dad says.

“We just need to keep an eye on things then,” Daemon says. “Don’t leave our side. Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve got it,” I say.

“Well, you do have the attack otter protecting you,” Kael laughs.

I join the rest of the group as they are making lunch. Everyone seems to be in good spirits, so I go and sit down with Thuly and Leli.

“Hey,” Leli says as she pets Thuly. He purrs, nuzzling into her hand.

“Me or him?” I ask.

“Uh… My nephew, obviously,” she cracks a smile as she laughs.

“Well, your nephew can talk to me in my head,” I say as I sit beside her. “Dad said they can communicate when they want to. He just keeps saying that something is wrong. Dad thinks that someone here may want to hurt me, but Thuly can’t pick them out.”

“Well, that’s scary,” Leli says. “Thuly seems to be very defensive of you, so I’d listen to him.”

“Yeah,” I say as Ewayla comes over with two plates.

“Lunch?” she asks, offering the plates.

“Please,” I say. “Thank you for cooking.”

“Something is wrong,” Thuly says, nudging me.

“No problem at all, happy to serve,” she smiles and walks away.

“Something is wrong,” Thuly’s voice gets louder, more persistent in my head.

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